Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
My Trip
I recently flew back to Pasadena, CA, where I once worked.
I fly down there sometimes, as part of my job.
(which I don't think I will ever talk about here, except to say that I work for great people at an astounding company, and am generally happier with my job than most people I know. Now, no one is always happy at their job all the time 24/7, or else it wouldn't be a, you know, JOB.)
*Besides which, if you were totally thrilled with your job and chirping about it 24/7, I'll bet that your co-workers would beat you in the parking lot.*
It seems like I'll probably get back there at least once a year. Potterchick asked me about my trip and I said it was too long to write about in email, but that it was awesome. She said, "Well, you could always blog about it....."
And so here I am.
I left the office at 1:00pm for a 3:00pm flight. PLENTY of time, even to check my bag because I carried (GASP) 1 fluid ounce more liquid than is allowed to be carried on. *Note to contact lens solution makers - make them in 3 oz containers PUHLEEZE. (Either that, or have the decency to print something on the label. Something like this: 4 oz. is our smallest size! So don't bother driving to Fred Meyer, because we'll still be too big to carry-on!)
Thank God they took the bag from me, because I was primed and ready to optically disinfect everyone within a 5 mile radius of myself. At a moment's notice. For any reason, or no reason at all. Remember that about me.
Beautifully, the weather decided to cooperate in the best possible way.
It was literally pouring rain sideways, and every car on the freeway was crawling along in a bloodbath of break lights and trying not to hydroplane. I am also primed and ready to hydroplane at a moment's notice. Thank you Ford and your tiny, featherweight car.
I got to the airport with plenty of time to spare, which was good, because I spent that and then some trying to find parking. No parking. At the AIRPORT. Where people sometimes really need to, you know, PARK. I drove every floor of the garage for about 46 minutes. Actually, it was exactly 46 minutes, I know this because I had ridiculously downed a full cup of coffee prior to leaving the office and as every single minute of NO PARKING ticked off, my bladder was counting them down. Anxiously.
Finally, I gave up, already drafting my strongly worded letter to Sea-Tac Airport. You see, I had passed at least one FULL floor that was closed for construction, but of course, no visible signs of any construction were present. Just miles and miles of empty stalls, viewed by really pissed off parkers with no place to do it.
The lady at the ticket booth as I came out wanted to make all kinds of calls to people to tell them of my problem. My bladder strenuously objected to this type of courtesy and after much barking and loudly rolled eyes, she let me go without paying anything. To which, you're damn right I'm not paying anything!!
I quickly got away from the airport and stopped at a gas station. I needed to pee so I could think straight, because I was GOING TO MISS MY FLIGHT! And that was really really bad, for reasons which I'll elaborate on later.
As luck would have it, I no sooner stepped out of the unimaginably filthy gas station restroom when I gazed straight across the street at a VALET Park & Ride. Valet. Park, then ride! Sounded perfect. And it was. With no further ado, I cut across three lanes of traffic in a highly illegal move and was handing my keys to a valet while screaming, HOLD THAT SHUTTLE.
I made the flight.
I made the flight that landed me in balmy Burbank at approximately 6:15pm.
The second the bell dinged, I was up, out of my seat, and standing for the deplane.
I fly down there sometimes, as part of my job.
(which I don't think I will ever talk about here, except to say that I work for great people at an astounding company, and am generally happier with my job than most people I know. Now, no one is always happy at their job all the time 24/7, or else it wouldn't be a, you know, JOB.)
*Besides which, if you were totally thrilled with your job and chirping about it 24/7, I'll bet that your co-workers would beat you in the parking lot.*
It seems like I'll probably get back there at least once a year. Potterchick asked me about my trip and I said it was too long to write about in email, but that it was awesome. She said, "Well, you could always blog about it....."
And so here I am.
I left the office at 1:00pm for a 3:00pm flight. PLENTY of time, even to check my bag because I carried (GASP) 1 fluid ounce more liquid than is allowed to be carried on. *Note to contact lens solution makers - make them in 3 oz containers PUHLEEZE. (Either that, or have the decency to print something on the label. Something like this: 4 oz. is our smallest size! So don't bother driving to Fred Meyer, because we'll still be too big to carry-on!)
Thank God they took the bag from me, because I was primed and ready to optically disinfect everyone within a 5 mile radius of myself. At a moment's notice. For any reason, or no reason at all. Remember that about me.
Beautifully, the weather decided to cooperate in the best possible way.
It was literally pouring rain sideways, and every car on the freeway was crawling along in a bloodbath of break lights and trying not to hydroplane. I am also primed and ready to hydroplane at a moment's notice. Thank you Ford and your tiny, featherweight car.
I got to the airport with plenty of time to spare, which was good, because I spent that and then some trying to find parking. No parking. At the AIRPORT. Where people sometimes really need to, you know, PARK. I drove every floor of the garage for about 46 minutes. Actually, it was exactly 46 minutes, I know this because I had ridiculously downed a full cup of coffee prior to leaving the office and as every single minute of NO PARKING ticked off, my bladder was counting them down. Anxiously.
Finally, I gave up, already drafting my strongly worded letter to Sea-Tac Airport. You see, I had passed at least one FULL floor that was closed for construction, but of course, no visible signs of any construction were present. Just miles and miles of empty stalls, viewed by really pissed off parkers with no place to do it.
The lady at the ticket booth as I came out wanted to make all kinds of calls to people to tell them of my problem. My bladder strenuously objected to this type of courtesy and after much barking and loudly rolled eyes, she let me go without paying anything. To which, you're damn right I'm not paying anything!!
I quickly got away from the airport and stopped at a gas station. I needed to pee so I could think straight, because I was GOING TO MISS MY FLIGHT! And that was really really bad, for reasons which I'll elaborate on later.
As luck would have it, I no sooner stepped out of the unimaginably filthy gas station restroom when I gazed straight across the street at a VALET Park & Ride. Valet. Park, then ride! Sounded perfect. And it was. With no further ado, I cut across three lanes of traffic in a highly illegal move and was handing my keys to a valet while screaming, HOLD THAT SHUTTLE.
I made the flight.
I made the flight that landed me in balmy Burbank at approximately 6:15pm.
The second the bell dinged, I was up, out of my seat, and standing for the deplane.
I sprinted to the car rental place (Hertz, and I had a lovely experience, thank you so much, except for the fact that, Lady? If I rented the car off of Hotwire, you might assume from that that I do not want to - nor do I have the funds to - upgrade to the two seater convertible sports car. I much prefer my death from smoking. Thank you so much.)
I wrestled my bag off the conveyor belt, sped over to my co-workers' hotel, dropped him off, raced back to my own, checked in - peed, because there's NO WAY I can go 45 minutes without doing that, and then took a call from S.
That is part one of the trip. Veronica Mars is on and I've burned a pizza, so obviously I need to focus.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Finny. Master of his domain.
A random dog just sniffed up to the front porch.
Lovable, friendly, and apparently not adverse to cigarette smoke, he came right up to me and whuffed around thoughtfully.
I had the sense to look around for my erstwhile Finn, to make sure he was safe and sound from any harm. See previous post. I wasn't sure if I had to go all medieval on this nice dog, or if I could relax.
I glanced back inside the house and Finny was standing just on the inside of the glass screen door that leads into the house. I always leave this open, so I get let the kitties out if they want to join me. Lucy likes to sit on the other front porch chair and just hang with me. Finny is fond of walking down the roof and yowling at me in pride from just above my head. Leo? Well, he likes to take the opportunity to just have me let him in. You know, since I'm already standing right there and all.
So, there was Finny, standing and watching Mr. Random Dog. He was curious at first, then looked slightly alarmed, then looked MIGHTILY alarmed, and then finally, with just as much suddenness and humor as he did when he was a kitten and got spooked by you turning the corner in the condo, Finny puffed up at least six times his normal size and turned sideways.
After laughing softly so that my proud little guy couldn't hear me, I shooed off the dog and went inside.
Finny had retreated to the top of the couch, so he could worriedly look outside.
My proud warrior. The smartest one knows when he is outsized and retreats to the couch.
Lovable, friendly, and apparently not adverse to cigarette smoke, he came right up to me and whuffed around thoughtfully.
I had the sense to look around for my erstwhile Finn, to make sure he was safe and sound from any harm. See previous post. I wasn't sure if I had to go all medieval on this nice dog, or if I could relax.
I glanced back inside the house and Finny was standing just on the inside of the glass screen door that leads into the house. I always leave this open, so I get let the kitties out if they want to join me. Lucy likes to sit on the other front porch chair and just hang with me. Finny is fond of walking down the roof and yowling at me in pride from just above my head. Leo? Well, he likes to take the opportunity to just have me let him in. You know, since I'm already standing right there and all.
So, there was Finny, standing and watching Mr. Random Dog. He was curious at first, then looked slightly alarmed, then looked MIGHTILY alarmed, and then finally, with just as much suddenness and humor as he did when he was a kitten and got spooked by you turning the corner in the condo, Finny puffed up at least six times his normal size and turned sideways.
After laughing softly so that my proud little guy couldn't hear me, I shooed off the dog and went inside.
Finny had retreated to the top of the couch, so he could worriedly look outside.
My proud warrior. The smartest one knows when he is outsized and retreats to the couch.
Friday, November 17, 2006
All Cats Beware.
So, my angelic*, darling*, wunderkind Finny got scratched.
In the face.
On the nose.
In a trajectory that, had he not darted or otherwise disengaged from the encounter, would have taken out his eye. His little white nose is scratched deeply.
(He won't even let me look at it too long, let alone take a picture, or else I would. I may yet still.)
So. Here's the thing. All you cats in the neighborhood? Be on the lookout.
If I so much as see you raise a whisker in my darling boy's direction, I will fuck you up.
My darling, never-bad-boy** does not deserve such treatment. And while you may get off a scratch or two on his innocent and loving face***, rest assured that his Mamacat is one serious bitch you DO NOT WANT TO MESS WITH.
I love cats, I love all kinds of cats, my undying love for the ever-bitching Lucy is an indication of this. I will pet any cat that I come across, and hunker down and call a feral cat until it throws itself at me, begging for domesticity.
But. I love MY cats more than any other creature on the planet. And one of you has seriously transgressed.
BOLO. That's all I have to say. I will not hesitate to come screeching at you like a crazy lady. I am that crazy cat lady. And a shout-out to the cat 'hood. That orange and white monster cat who is always in your yard? That's my baby Finny, and he may as well be Mafia.
Give him a wide berth.
That is all.
-Crazy Mamacat
*Finny is totally the LEAST angelic cat I've ever had.
** Finny is usually bad. Always loveable, but does things truly bad, I don't think he can help himself.
*** While his face is innocent and loving, Finny is by far the biggest cat in the neighborhood. I'm sure he was in some other cat's yard, doing something bad. Doesn't matter.
In the face.
On the nose.
In a trajectory that, had he not darted or otherwise disengaged from the encounter, would have taken out his eye. His little white nose is scratched deeply.
(He won't even let me look at it too long, let alone take a picture, or else I would. I may yet still.)
So. Here's the thing. All you cats in the neighborhood? Be on the lookout.
If I so much as see you raise a whisker in my darling boy's direction, I will fuck you up.
My darling, never-bad-boy** does not deserve such treatment. And while you may get off a scratch or two on his innocent and loving face***, rest assured that his Mamacat is one serious bitch you DO NOT WANT TO MESS WITH.
I love cats, I love all kinds of cats, my undying love for the ever-bitching Lucy is an indication of this. I will pet any cat that I come across, and hunker down and call a feral cat until it throws itself at me, begging for domesticity.
But. I love MY cats more than any other creature on the planet. And one of you has seriously transgressed.
BOLO. That's all I have to say. I will not hesitate to come screeching at you like a crazy lady. I am that crazy cat lady. And a shout-out to the cat 'hood. That orange and white monster cat who is always in your yard? That's my baby Finny, and he may as well be Mafia.
Give him a wide berth.
That is all.
-Crazy Mamacat
*Finny is totally the LEAST angelic cat I've ever had.
** Finny is usually bad. Always loveable, but does things truly bad, I don't think he can help himself.
*** While his face is innocent and loving, Finny is by far the biggest cat in the neighborhood. I'm sure he was in some other cat's yard, doing something bad. Doesn't matter.
**The absurdity of this post just hit me. None of the cats in my neighborhood are online reading my blog. They're all looking at porn.
Friday, November 10, 2006
PICTURE FRENZY
So. I talk about Finny all the time.
And I know it bores you. BUT.
Loooooook at HIM! He's the CUTEST!
Get set for a Finny-a-thon.
Plus some other photos because I'm trying to blog every day, but tonight I don't have much to talk about. This is Finny being a baby. In a Pack N' Play, no less! He CRIED when I folded it up to return to my friend.
These are my beloved bookends.
What a wonderful Wednesday morning this was. Too cute. I was sleepy, and coffee was brewing, but I saw these two and HAD to take a picture. I love my boys. Finny & Leo. Leo jumped down moments later because God Forbid he be seen enjoying anything other than his dad's lap.
Look at my little guy. I was reading, and this was the evolution of our nightly loving.
I go to bed, he curls up next to me to have his face vigorously rubbed for an INTERMINABLE time, and then he stretches out and fully relaxes. Usually right around the point where I have to pee for the 80th time that day.
I LOVE THIS CAT.
Mr. & Mrs. Pope, as Mr. and Mrs. Kabuki Warrior and Geisha Wife. I had weapons tucked into my costume, lest you think I am some sort of docile hausfrau. I'm not.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Dear Midwestern Family.....
Please don't send me Democrat jokes. Regardless of how many times you send me the Ted Kennedy toasts to everything joke....(and let's be clear here. I read accounts of the drowning girl in his car, and I do think it happened and that Kennedy money bought him off, and I do think he's an intoxicated blowhard, I certainly wouldn't vote for the guy, but back off, it isn't MY STATE!) REGARDLESS of all of that, I am still strongly Democrat and wouldn't have voted for your Republican President (nor any of his bullshit RNC propaganda) even if someone had lit my eyelashes on fire.
ALSO - and this is specific: I got a forwarded email today about the fact that (GASP) Wal-Mart contributes 5% of certain purchases to the GLBT organization, which benefits (FAINT) homosexuals. This email urged me to BOYCOTT Wal-Mart for this unneccessary evil and to ask all my friends to do the same.
Listen. I would never have the temerity to dictate where my friends shop and I'll shop at Wal-Mart SPECIFICALLY now that I know they are supportive of alternative lifestyles.
I know it is often said, "Some of my best friends are......[insert whatever you want here]" But in this case it is very true. Some of my best friends ARE gay. And I love them. And I don't want them to ever get an email like this. Nor will I propogate this bullshit. I was extremely offended that someone who knows me (even ever so slightly) would ever DREAM that this was an appropriate email to send to me.
Look, I didn't come into your home when you were falling in love and tell you who it could be or why it couldn't be the way you just naturally felt. And I don't expect you to EVER come into my home and tell me any goddamned thing like that.
So, look. Midwestern Family. I love you. I think you raised me right. I think I grew up in a great place to grow up. And I just grew up slightly differently, and I'm so damn glad I did.
Because, hey? There are some really wonderful people out there, if you could just expand your mind a bit. There are some wonderful people out here, and I'm lucky to know them.
And I'd vote to give them benefits if they needed them. And I wouldn't send them to IRAQ, nor would I preach about my high moral standing while taking bribes from every oil company and evangelical special interest group with a check and a dripping pen.
So please. I respect the fact that you think the way you do.
Have the decency to return the favor.
And send some Tony Packo's pickles, next time you think of it. Liberals can't make spicy pickles for the life of them.
ALSO - and this is specific: I got a forwarded email today about the fact that (GASP) Wal-Mart contributes 5% of certain purchases to the GLBT organization, which benefits (FAINT) homosexuals. This email urged me to BOYCOTT Wal-Mart for this unneccessary evil and to ask all my friends to do the same.
Listen. I would never have the temerity to dictate where my friends shop and I'll shop at Wal-Mart SPECIFICALLY now that I know they are supportive of alternative lifestyles.
I know it is often said, "Some of my best friends are......[insert whatever you want here]" But in this case it is very true. Some of my best friends ARE gay. And I love them. And I don't want them to ever get an email like this. Nor will I propogate this bullshit. I was extremely offended that someone who knows me (even ever so slightly) would ever DREAM that this was an appropriate email to send to me.
Look, I didn't come into your home when you were falling in love and tell you who it could be or why it couldn't be the way you just naturally felt. And I don't expect you to EVER come into my home and tell me any goddamned thing like that.
So, look. Midwestern Family. I love you. I think you raised me right. I think I grew up in a great place to grow up. And I just grew up slightly differently, and I'm so damn glad I did.
Because, hey? There are some really wonderful people out there, if you could just expand your mind a bit. There are some wonderful people out here, and I'm lucky to know them.
And I'd vote to give them benefits if they needed them. And I wouldn't send them to IRAQ, nor would I preach about my high moral standing while taking bribes from every oil company and evangelical special interest group with a check and a dripping pen.
So please. I respect the fact that you think the way you do.
Have the decency to return the favor.
And send some Tony Packo's pickles, next time you think of it. Liberals can't make spicy pickles for the life of them.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Newsical
I have other friends that blog, and I'm dialed into their websites on an almost daily basis. And they mostly blog about what they are doing. I'm a whole lot less tangible than that, so I thought I'd let you all know, how all things Salome are, and what I'm doing.
1. Getting UNFAT. Not dieting or quitting smoking yet, but have ramped up the workings out. Yoga on Monday nights, Pilates (mat) on Tuesday and Thursday. Today was my first Wednesday after this week of working out, and the only reason I didn't go to the gym and do SOMETHING was that I had no workout clothes. I'm feeling energized and enervated.
2. Thinking seriously about buying a new car. Toyota RAV4 or Honda CR-V are the shortlist.
I read a long article about car salesman today at edmunds.com and am fully prepared to go in and blast their methods.
3. Just went the hairstylist yesterday and went from really light blonde highlights to a very punky dark purply brown. More purply than I had asked for, but I think she reads my soul. Can still pass for normal human being gainfully employed at something that uses brain cells (i.e. not so punky that all I can be is a barista) but still has some edge.
4. Baked Pumpkin bread. From a box, but still. Give me some credit.
5. Read one book in two days (nights, too, because I was working both days). I haven't lost my skillz.
6. Yeah, that's about it.
1. Getting UNFAT. Not dieting or quitting smoking yet, but have ramped up the workings out. Yoga on Monday nights, Pilates (mat) on Tuesday and Thursday. Today was my first Wednesday after this week of working out, and the only reason I didn't go to the gym and do SOMETHING was that I had no workout clothes. I'm feeling energized and enervated.
2. Thinking seriously about buying a new car. Toyota RAV4 or Honda CR-V are the shortlist.
I read a long article about car salesman today at edmunds.com and am fully prepared to go in and blast their methods.
3. Just went the hairstylist yesterday and went from really light blonde highlights to a very punky dark purply brown. More purply than I had asked for, but I think she reads my soul. Can still pass for normal human being gainfully employed at something that uses brain cells (i.e. not so punky that all I can be is a barista) but still has some edge.
4. Baked Pumpkin bread. From a box, but still. Give me some credit.
5. Read one book in two days (nights, too, because I was working both days). I haven't lost my skillz.
6. Yeah, that's about it.
My Peoples
They have spoken. Took back the goddamned HOUSE and then, for good measure, took the SENATE. If we could have in this election year, we would have ripped the ground out from under that imbecile who is laughably running this country.
But I digress. I have never been so proud of my American people. I don't know how long it will take to undo all that he has UNDONE, in terms of American pride in their government, in terms of our relations and standings with other countries, or what have you, but I sincerely hope that yesterday made a big start.
In other news, she filed for divorce. Thank fucking god. That poor girl. What was she thinking? Thank the fucking lord. I will have to watch her next Dateline episode with my friend A, to see what her publicists will carefully craft for her to say. (Hey, Brit, you hired them back (obviously!) good for you!!! And Stylists! Why, you smart, smart girl, you!)
Look for her in 10 years to be shaking her head and rolling her eyes (while popping gum, natch!) while laughing at her youthful indiscretions. And although they are without a doubt lovely innocent little boys, think of their lives when they go back and read all the things their idiot father said and did. And what a weaselly, morally bankrupt ass he was, too.
Pumpkin bread is dinging. The entire house smells like you could take a bite out of it.
Bye.
But I digress. I have never been so proud of my American people. I don't know how long it will take to undo all that he has UNDONE, in terms of American pride in their government, in terms of our relations and standings with other countries, or what have you, but I sincerely hope that yesterday made a big start.
In other news, she filed for divorce. Thank fucking god. That poor girl. What was she thinking? Thank the fucking lord. I will have to watch her next Dateline episode with my friend A, to see what her publicists will carefully craft for her to say. (Hey, Brit, you hired them back (obviously!) good for you!!! And Stylists! Why, you smart, smart girl, you!)
Look for her in 10 years to be shaking her head and rolling her eyes (while popping gum, natch!) while laughing at her youthful indiscretions. And although they are without a doubt lovely innocent little boys, think of their lives when they go back and read all the things their idiot father said and did. And what a weaselly, morally bankrupt ass he was, too.
Pumpkin bread is dinging. The entire house smells like you could take a bite out of it.
Bye.
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