Warning: unsexy bodily fluids discussion to follow!

Those dark spots in the distance are where it's raining in the distance...
AND.
I just left the ER.
I had a bladder infection...
so I got my beaver fixed in Beaver!!

(now I'm at the hotel, so I shall continue the post with a real keyboard...)

Friggin hilarious.
It was not, however, much of a laughing matter to be cruising through deserted desert wasteland with the urgent need to pee hovering over me like a death star.
Fucking body.
Which reminds me...one of the great lines of the day was when we were listening to Bon Jovi and my husband said, "I love fucking Bon Jovi."
I chortled.
And then I said, "Really? You enjoy that, do ya?"
The second funniest thing he said today was when he was on the phone with one of his bosses and they were disucussing some upcoming implementation or something, and I hear, "Well I'll keep my noodle on it all weekend, and we'll talk on Monday."
I laughed, hard and short; loudly.
And then quietly spoke, "I thought you were going to keep your noodle on ME all weekend!"
Wooooooooooo
EEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Good times.
Jokes with/about husband: good times.
Having the incessant urge to pee, while knowing that peeing will only make the pain increase exponentially: baaaaaaaad times.
I even went so far as to stop on the side of the freeway and climb down over a dusty and snake-hole riddled embankment to pee.
PEE.
yes, I'll say it at least 43 more times, so watch the fuck out.
You're getting no apologies, either, so bite me.
The cool part about the freeway-pee (far less kinky than its rhyme, "three-way pee") was that a whole herd of little jack rabbits scampered off at our approach!
Aw...come back, bunnies!
So then we stopped at this one bathroom and my husband spent 15 minutes or so checking his email.
I used that bathroom THREE times while we were there.
Three.
But...
praise jesus, buddha, the awesome hindu guy with all the arms (sorry I don't know his/its name...), and even the non-terrorist-affiliated Allah for Aleve.
Aleve, oh, Aleve.
You alleviate my bladder's ache,
you alleviate the jagged edges of a day,
why did no one tell me you are the OTC valium?
Oh, how I love thee, Aleve my sweet!
Or something.
Seriously, that shit saved my life.
The best part, of course, was that when we pulled off in a lovely little jerk-off town called Beaver to use the bathroom, there was a sign for a hospital.
I said, "fuck it. my doctor's not calling me back, I might as well just go to the ER and get a prescription."
So...while the urethra is not technically "beaver"...
I still cannot resist saying I got my beaver tended to in Beaver.

Hey, guess what?
Pee.

Ok, so there was this old lady waiting in the waiting room with us,
and she was telling her friend about her new tattoo.
She said she got a seashell on her inner thigh.
yeah...
when you put your ear to it, you can smell the ocean!
HAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!
Oh, come on, that was funny.
And probably less offensive than the whole PEE thing.
Pee.

I am going to marry a bottle of Aleve.
Or at least buy one.

Oh, that reminds me of a cool story I started writing (in my head) about a Russian mail order bride.
Only, she isn't one. She just feels like one.
Oh, fuck off.
It'll be cool.
Trust me.

Hey.
I love you guys.
Me AND my pee--we love you.

Oh, yeah one more thing--
all that stopping to PEE and going to the ER for help in solving issues with my PEE,
made us miss the first play.
Quite disappointing and stressful, but I guess it'll work out ok.

Imagine pee for you, and pee for me,
no matter how they toss the dice, I had to pee,
so painful together!

Ok, enough songs about pee.
I think I'm going to become a pee fetishist.
Or maybe I just want the google hits for that one!
haaaaaa!!!
Fuck, man.
I don't ever want to pee again.
Thank the lord for drugs.
And doctors who ask really funny questions.
The poor dude next to me (two of us in this whole row of like 4 or 5 beds, and we are adjacent. Why??) got grilled about the exact GPS location where he received his injury.
He fell off a trailer while unloading a couch.
The doctor kept pressing him, sounding suspicious--or romantically interested.
It was really fucking weird.
"At my Dad's place, out by _____"
"Oh, where at?" (niiiice. even the doctors have shitty grammar here.)
"About 19 miles out, near the highway blah blah turn off."
"Oh yeah? Where?"
(me: jesus tittie fuckin' christ, just move on already, the dude's suffering!)
"about 5 miles out."
"Oh? Back this way?"
"No, east of here."
(god DAMN! move on!)
Gave him shit for starting smoking at 30 years old, too.
Which I can agree with, but still--wtf??
It was weird.
Not as weird as the 20 minutes or so while we both waiting for the cute old man to come and pass us along to the next phase of our treatment (x-rays for him, prescriptions and out the door for me).
We were so close together, separated by a thin curtain.
Each rustle of the paper covering the bed was like thunder, each painfully drawn breath was a gust of wind.
Ok, maybe there was just a storm moving in...
ha.
No, it was intense.
I wanted to speak to him, through the curtain.
Talking takes your mind off the pain, well "mine" I should say.
He sounded hot.
He also sounded younger than the 40 he turned out to be.
Such proximity caused us to have unintentional eavesdropping.
He flew a plane from wherever he was and took one of his father's ranch trucks that he keeps at the airport.
Wuh--?
Becky, Justin, do you natives have any friggin idea what that's about?
I'm assuming the "19" I heard may have been "90" or something.
I know farmers have airplanes sometimes for crop dusting and whatnot.
Just seemed odd to me.

Anyway.
I feel much better now...
It was as if someone had turned me into a newt.

At least my kids are having fun with their cousins.
And tonight's play is "Antony and Cleopatra", at an outdoor replica of the Globe Theatre.
Good thing it's been spitting rain at us, and taunting us with more...
it'll be an adventure!
I love it.

good night.

Shakespeare, hold onto your fake beard!!!

Cuz here I come!
I am heading out in the morning for a town about 3 hours south of here called Cedar City.
It hosts the Tony Award winning, ___th annual Shakespearean Festival.
I will be seeing 2 plays tomorrow and 2 plays on Saturday.
I just booked our hotel, and sweet hubby found a willing victim to watch our boys all weekend...eek..!
Sucks to be them.
ha.
That was uncalled for.

Ok, so I'm really excited and kind of nervous--
my editor wants me to fill 2 whole pages with reviews and historical background and (thank god) pictures.
I'm seeing 4 amazing plays, so it shouldn't actually be all that hard.
I am beyond excited.
Ecstatic?
Yeah.

we got the only room left in town with high speed wireless internet, so you'll be hearing from me!

woooo!

Oh, I should also mention that we had a delicate little lightening storm today...
it wasn't grand or inspiring, but it still was beautiful.
Soft rain came down, and the thunder was oh-so-loud.
The bolts of lightening were thin and jagged...
looking almost breakable.

WOW. What a party!

I am still drunk from last night, I think.
Just kidding...
I'm really not.
But I am still rather hammered in a "tired and icky" sorta way.
We had silly girl fun and played pool and attempted to play cupid for two toothless patrons, and patted a great big Great Dane--a black one, who knew?--and then when the bar closed, the bartender's husband walked by in a cloud of...smoke...wink-wink, and then and then...
That is all.

Despite my lingering ick, I woke this morning filled with a gentle, serene feeling.
it was as if all my chomping at bits and pawing of hooves had finally abated.
This past week or so I have been swimming in synchronicity--
and finally I stepped onto shore, and it is left on my skin, sparkling like diamonds.
It's as though a cloud overhead has dispersed, and there is good cause for its departure--
no swift wind, no cold front.
I felt the wind in my hair, though, and the changing air temperatures as I hurtled onward.
The rumble beneath me...free and wild and wild and free!
I am at peace with my world.

Today I ran to and fro and my listening ear is shriveled and unwilling...
but I have one more friend to see.
She'll be here any minute.
Waffles.
Am excited if tired.

night--

Beer

Beer

Drunk Posting Tuesday

Which is almost as good as Braless Tuesday...
right?
Right.

And, technically, I"m not drunk anymore...
ignore the time stamp, I wrote this from the future.
No, I wrote it last night!
yes; last night.

Ok, so maybe I'm still a little buzzed.
And I smoked two tiny little cheap-ass cigars back to back.
They were lurvely, but I need to go to the tobacco store and get some real ones.
Too small.
I like 'em big.
YES, like that, perverts.
Hi, welcome to my perversion.

So this neighbor of Becky's is here with us,
and he was just telling us about the woman he works with who's about 65 or so.
She just got a tattoo of a seashell on her thigh.
If you put your ear to it you can smell the ocean.
HA!!!!!!
Fucking hilarious.

Gotcha.

Becky says hi.
since she can't be bothered to BLOG anymore.
She says she's terribly sorry,
but I don't really believe her
and you would be wise not to either.
Also, she IS sorry, just not like that.
She said that hurt...I guess it was a little rude.
So now I am sorry.
And so the vicious cycle goes.

Any.
WAY.

I now have company.
Everyone has decided to make blogging a spectator sport.
Which is alright with me.
We need more liquor.
And/or some pizza.
I wish we lived in a state where we could order liquor for delivery.
And not a state where we can barely get it anyway.
Oh yeah.
It's voting day here so the liquor store wasn't open anyway.
We had to settle for MIke's Hard(ness) and some Smirnoff Ice even though we were craving Hard Ice Tea.
Oh, such is the sadness of the life a mid-week lush!

If we had a camera, you could see us all having an orgy, if we were having an orgy.
Dammit, why aren't we??
Becky is painting the drunk-half-asleep girl's toes.
Which is probably kinda hot if you think about their respective sexual orientations.
Anyway...

K says I should write about her girlfriend who cheated on her with a boy,
because that's why SHE'S drunk in the afternoon...
but that is a bit of a buzzkill.
And frankly, makes me a little embarassed about my own lack of excuses for drunkeness.
We started at noon...
And did I mention we need more drinks?
Yes.
Also, the guy only charged me for one sixer and the 4 cigars, so I scored a free lighter and a sixer.
Rock.
On.
When I realized what had happened I felt bad, but I was already half-way to the door.
ha.

I just played swear-word-filler-inner for a crusty old japanese guy.
Ok, he's only 50, but we're supposed to call him old.
He likes it.
He's not, however, allowed to say "cunt".
I am.

crap, I'm missing all the fun.
perhaps we'll have to move this fun to a real live bar.
if we can figure out what time they open on poll day.
I like poles.

I'll get a new camera soon,
and we will recommence Braless goddamned Tuesday.
Whiners.

Hot as a blacktop road trip on the sun...

or something.

Today was hot, if you didn't catch onto that from the title.
der.

I am back to normal, in case anyone's been wondering if the nice folks with the straight jackets were going to be needing a call.
Nope.
Hormones are back in the backseat, where they will snooze off and on, bicker occasionally, and moon truckers.
Until next time.
But whatever.
such is life.

I had some poetry slipping through my skull bones and wrapping around my ocular nerve today at the gym...
I meant to come home and put it here.
But I think I dropped it...
I was imagining...
you.
yeah, you know who you are.
my beautiful, magnificent one.
could probably replace that "my" with "O," like a poem...and it's more truthful.
Not mine.
but beautiful.
Beauty of such intricacy leaking out from the inside in a steady stream, and washing over each feature, each eyelash...
Anyway.
I was spinning along on my treadmill, and I was listening to music.
I imagined your neck, and how it might feel if I left a trail of soft kisses in an arch across the front of it, landing just below your ear with a shuddery sort of breath, before drawing teeth across earlobe and ending with what would sound like a moan if it was magnified...
And then I stopped thinking in words, and started slowing my pace, as my eyes lost focus and kept trying to close--
the better to see you, my dear...
you were there, your eyes dancing in firelight, your hands pulling me onto your lap, from their perch on the skin of my back, under my shirt.
you would like looking up at me for a change, with my cleavage so handily located.
You would be like a hungry puppy, almost unsure of where to start...
mouths meeting like magnets, I would solve the second-long dilemma for you.
tongues darting and lips pressing, moving...
you are a god.
or will be, someday, when finally the maker retires and passes you the sceptor.
I am drifting off, and want to keep my images--and the words that paint them--to myself.

Being a declared writer has given me a free pass to be crazy.
What a brilliant move that was!!!!!!
Praise jeebus.
I am hungry.
Dinner came early, and I exercised hard.
I am having a goreously perfect hair day--
which seems to happen more when I'm alone...
erg.
And also when I'm seeing someone important it tends to look terribe.
Figures.

Hey, so you know what's cool?
That high school sweetheart I've been in touch with...
we've actually hashed through everything that happened "back then",
and it's really been amazing.
I finally know what was happening on his side, and he finally knows
truly
how much he hurt me.
And he has offered sincere apologies.
It has been extremely healing.
I count myself very fortunate to have this experience, because I know that most people never get to have those lingering questions answered.

Ok, I'm done.
Fun stuff to do all week, and then hubby will be home.
No more travel for a while...I think.
Let's hope.
I'm such a wuss.

good.
night.

I am...therefore I...think?

Huh?

Ok, nevermind.
It is physically and spiritually impossible to write a post while watching "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle."

Holy.
Mother.
Of.
God!!
I thought I was a pervert.
Someone who is a sliiiiightly larger pervert than myself may have been involved in some way in the writing of the script of this show.

Also, I'm going to start going to the Walmart on Redwood Road on a daily basis.
It has nothing to do with the gorgeous creature who stocks produce there.
At all.

Ack.
Like I said, I can't concentrate.
Shit.
Ee.
Ness.

What I'd really like to do is turn off the TV and write a sexy story.
Too tired.

Sky and trees

Sky and trees

The River...

The River...

Camping. no spanking.

Camping. no spanking.

Get what ya neeeeeed, aw, yeah....

Loves me some Rolling Stones, baby!!
It's true, you can't always get what you want.
I sing that to my spoiled little darlings sometimes.
They appreciate neither my vocal abilities nor my message.
as if.

So, yes, the thunderclouds have passed.
The sun is shining in my soul today...
That was the all time worst case of late-to-the-party PMS I have EVER had.
Ever.
Except for that one time, at band camp.
Just kidding.
And no, I won't stick a flute in or around my pussy.
Those things are just unsanitary.

Ok, moving right along.
Gym was god--nice typo, I meant good, but really it's more like god at times like these.
Just got a call from one of the husband's brothers.
We're joining them for a quick campout in the closest-to-them mountains.
There are like a billion different mountains to choose from, so yes, I had to specify.
I'm almost caught up on laundry (2 loads down, 2 to go--woot!)
And the tension is easing itself out of me in gulps and gasps.
Finally getting laid last night was no small dose of good medicine, either.
Hubby gone for 3 days + me still unavailabe for use upon his return = horny girl.

Tomorrow, white water rafting with best friend (and my husband, but she's guiding so it's kind of her thing).
And then dinner/maybe a movie.
There are some good ones out...
including Wordplay!
I saw it at Sundance, and it features (rather briefly, but still!!) our own miss darling Orange Tangerine!!
It's a wonderful film, and i would think so even if I hadn't met most of the folks on it, and its director.
So that's it.
See that, if you see anything.
Speaking of films.
Once the list from my project is made public, I will be posting a list of my own--
I came across a ton of movies that I really looking forward to seeing.
And I'd like to share that with you.
But first, I'll probably change from my suit coat to a cardigan, and from my loafers to some sneakers.
yes, I'll be your neighbor!!

Ok.
Off to enjoy my still-frantic but so luscious it makes my mouth water Life!
Thank you all so much for not pointing and laughing, or kicking me while I was obnoxiously down...
Not that I mind a good spanking, it's just there's a time and a place.
heh.

mwuaaaaaaaaaaaaaah---

Why?

Why am I so greedy, and so selfish?
And what is the solution to this?
I want too much.
I ache.


I crave freedom, and yet, in freedom I falter.
How am I supposed to live like this?
Always wanting so much more than my fair share of life.
I wrote once about wanting to live 9 lives, like a cat, but simultaneously and on repeat...
It's true, I do.
Right now it feels as though there is no medicicine for yearning except to achieve the object of desire.
Only, there is not an object, there is a life.
No more dishes, no more laundry, no more trips to the gym, no more cooking, no more cleaning.
I want to be a tumbleweed, lost in the plains.
Or a piece of driftwood caught in a strong ocean current...
It's probably just hormones or the weather or my genetics.
I'll probably get over it.
I'll probably be thrilled with my life again--maybe even later today.
But.
Right now.
At this moment, I ache.
There is a dullness so sharp inside me that it gags me, closes my throat.
I feel lost and abandoned, but I'm not.
I want to leave a note and drive all night.
Just land wherever.
Hopefully a small town, something with a diner and a tattoo parlor--
and high speed internet.
I want to learn to smoke cigarettes, and pay attention when I play pool.
I want to learn to mask my face when asked where I come from, then offer a cold, "East coast," with a finality that forbids further inquisitions.
Spanish...inquisitions, I should learn spanish, and cry my way to Mexico.
I could work at a resort, and spend my days off silently staring at the sea.
I want to be mysterious and vague--
close this book of self from which I run a constant stream of passages to any and all I encounter.
I would be miserable and lonely.
But at least I would have something to write about.
Yes, I believe I've just answered the question, "Is writing about it as good as doing it?"
It is, it really is, for the most part.
have you ever wanted something so completely that it took possession of you, body and soul?
and when you got it, you realized it wasn't what you wanted after all...
Lines from a song.
It's just that...I don't know.
I get these stupid ideas in my head of things (or situations) that I simply MUST have, but in reality, they're not going to fill me, any more than a dessert fills my loneliness.
I should probably go find a shrink, eh???
Nah, this little brown box is my shrink.
I can solve the puzzle of me better than anyone else, because I've been working it for 31 years.
Ok, so that's a BIT of an exaggeration.
My cognitive skills weren't terribly well-honed until at least 4.
heh.
See?
I'm feeling a little better already.
I think I was wallowing.
I hate wallowers.

If I can shed all my craziness here, then it will not be rattling around in my head.
That's the goal here.

Checked out a brand-spankin' new location of my gym today.
It was huge, and empty.
But then, I sort of remember saying that about my previous gym when I first moved here.
Whatever, it was a great workout--
finally!
After these last couple of craaaazy weeks, it really does feel good to be exercising again.
I like their scale better, too.

Suffocated and ignored...
I refuse to accept that as my life's description.
Drowning.
Life lines offered, but never given.
I guess I was right...everything's too perfect.
Perfection is ephemeral.
Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaash.........

This sounds depressing.
I think I need to find my funny again.
(hold the "farm", smartass)
It's probably hiding out with my libido and my nurturing...
somewhere.
Somewhere far away from the rainbow.
Fucking hormones.

Please stay tuned for your regularly scheduled Lisa.

Missing: one mind, I.Q. 144, greyish, about the size of two fists...

anyone...?
Let me know if ya find it.

Seriously.
I am not even talking about what you might think here, so just go with it--
I am spreading myself too thin, and yet somehow getting FATTER.
I am losing my...
self.
I need to stop.
breathe.
assess.
re-assess.
come back down to earth.
quit pushing, quit pulling.
I dunno.

I actually forgot about tee ball tonight.
forgot.
the coach even called this afternoon to remind us it was picture night.
team picture night.
fuck.
but then the power went out,
and I lost what I had written so far of the fucking article due at 3pm.
it was noon...so I'm a slacker, we all knew that!
ok, so I showered and grew nervous, pulling out the laptop, and using what little battery power it had left, after not being charged.
and then grew more nervous and decided to take the kids to the daycare early and go write the article at school, just so that I would be there on time instead of sitting somewhere else and writing until toooo late and then hurrying...smart girl, for once, although I don't think I thought that hard about it.
anyway.
skipped lunch.
smart girl, after monday's hangry episode, eh? yeah, I know.
(it didn't really happen today, though, so that's cool.)
got to school, wrote a truly shitty, truly inferioir article.
went to meet editor, told him my sob story re: power outage/shitty play/shitty review.
Re-typed it onto his computer, because I didn't bother bringing my pen drive and I didn't bother saving it to disk and I couldn't email it to him because my wireless card wasn't set up with the school's network, ET FUCKING CETERA.
He totally re-wrote it, although we sort of did it together (not like that ya pervs),
and he was very cool about my ball droppage (not like THAT ya pervs!!...I don't drop balls, anyway, I lick them...)
ahem.
sorry, got swept away for a moment.
memories, light the corner of my mind---
heh.
Ok, so.
finished article, sans photo.
but, talked shop about my Shakespeare two-page spread dealy, which needed to happen before I could start planning, so that's cool.
I'll go to Cedar City for a couple of days and do some interviews (hopefully) and see at least a couple of plays, and do a whole big thang.
woooopeee!
I'm seriously beyond excited about that.

anyway.
all I want right now is to be alone.
completely alone.
isn't that odd?
I just want to drive off and have an adventure of solitude.
the solitude is the adventure...
just breathe and sing along to my CDs and think thoughts.
yeah.

anyway.
(siiiiigh....I already said that....)
after the article editing I went to the Driver's License Division and had a mild-but-eventually-pleasant cluster fuck.
The two gentlemen I dealt with were super cheerful...
suspiciously so, in fact.
just kidding.
I loved them, if only for a moment.
One was hawaiian and handsome, one was old and twinkle-eyed...
i wonder, if men were like tarot cards...what would that mean?
Men are like tarrot cards...they are like stars in the sky, they are like two molecules of oxygen...they are like bruises and tears and seas full of laugher...men are that I might have joy. heh. little mormon scripture for ya. "men are that THEY might have joy", but whatever.
I love the taste, the smell, the roughness of men.
I love their voices, their hands, their useless nipples.
I love the way they think, and the way they move.
I love the shape of their backs, and the stubble on their chins.
all of them...?
Nah, not all of them.
But I find beauty in many.

anyway...
after the driiver's license thing, I picked up my worhtless motherfucking goddamn pain in the ass thyroid pills, some dinner, and some kids--I'm pretty sure they were mine....they sure did whine the same.
Gah.
"oh, they were so good, had so much fun!"
two seconds later, in the car, "Mooooooooom......"
and my nostrils flare, ears lay back...ready to pounce.
I need a break.
Or I'm going to break.

I am grateful for my husband's amazing job, I really am.
But I wish...
jesus that hurt my chest, I can't type it.
I just wish, that's all.
I wish for all sorts of things, and I also know that if I got all my wishes I would be miserable, because content isn't a color I look good in for long.
So, it's cool.
but I need to slide into a docking station and recharge my mother and my fucking batteries.
Literally.
I mean, my mothering needs a recharge and my libido needs a recharge.
I am all...skee-wompas.
yeah, that's a technical term.

I ache.
my clavicles are sore, oddly.
and my lip bruised a dark purple from a child collision.
yes, I was beating my children with my face again.
I ought to cut back.

this is such a lethargic and moany post, I feel itwould be out of place to mention the fabulous time I had last night with the Becky and Justin McBloggers...
They were such good sports--I was late to my own house for our dinner!
AND they picked up dinner for me...
AND brought me REAL BEER (higher percentage of alcohol)
AND some lovingly burned CDs--a whole bunch!! woot!
AAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDD a superbly orange birthday assortment!
We enjoyed our dinner and played a nerdy game, then watched Airplane!, which was just as funny as I'd remembered.
They are some seriously swell folks.
Becky has the sexiest voice, too, in case you've ever wondered.
I'm insanely jealous.
This is our second meeting, by the way.
And maybe next time, I won't be late...but they shouldn't count on it!!

Good.
Night.

by request:
Which came first, 'Rivals' or rotten tomatoes? - A & E

Guess where i am!

Yes, it is the beautiful and efficent DMV! and I found the shift key. I have time to kill since they are on no. 807.Damn.

Fuzzy Mix

That's one of my favorite CDs.
Although, I'll admit it was forced.
I stole the name from someone I never met,
and put songs on it that I thuoght would go with a fuzzy mood.
I'm such a poser.

I slept deep and hard last night--
sounds dirtier than it is, trust me.

I have to write a review of that awful play without being too harsh...
don't know if I can muster it.
At least I got confirmation that they are always terrible,
and I noticed in the program that they've been around for TWENTY years!!
What the FUCK?
How is this possible?
Why is this possible?
Someone ought to put them out of their misery.
Seriously.
Too cold in winter, too hot in summer.
Decent line delivery for the most part, but...
Just the whole atmosphere is dank and dusty and dark where it should be light, and ligth where it should be dark.

So the birthday...
My kids saw to it that I didn't have a very good day.
Right up until I snapped and took them to the drop-in daycare,
so that I could go get my license renewed, mail a package to my Dad (hey, bite me, a day late is early for me!), return movies to Blockbuster, pick up my prescription (fucking doctor. don't get me--or my thyroid--started.), and have a quick dinner with my best friend before their tee ball game.
See, just so you know, I had planned to go to something fun with the kids.
And I had planned to take THEM to a nice dinner, and have cake with them.
I was PLANNING to enjoy my day.
But they couldn't see the vision.
They wouldn't buy into my grand plan.
No, Oliver had to stab my new, luscious exercise ball with a FORK (yes, entirely on purpose...)
and they both had to take a large bag of pretzels and throw them at the walls and/or ceiling until they shattered.
all.
over.
my.
front room.
gah.
And there were more incidents, but I'm fresh out of vehemence.
Ok, so, I dropped them off, and pushed "random" on my CD player.
The soldier song lined itself up first (new Live CD) and made me a little weepy,
followed directly by The River (not "of tears," jerks), which makes me a little weepy...
HEY.
I'm hormone-besieged, motherfuckers, watch out!
So then I headed for the address that my husband had told me to go to for my new license.
The DMV.
Which is USUALLY where you get a motherfucking license.
oh, I was hungry, too. That's an important thing to know.
So I drove, and drove, and DROVE.
Finally reached the point where I knew I had been given a faulty adress (and it wasn't in Fawlty Towers, sadly), so I turned around and headed east, towards the location I figured would be the next possible location.
I was right.
Yippeeee!
So I checked my hair and cruised inside.
"I need to renew my license."
I remember in slow-motion watching her reach for something under the counter,
thinking she was giving me a form to fill out or something...
nope.
It was a list of addresses and phone numbers.
In her cold voice, tinged with bitterness at her lame-ass life, the woman handed it to me and said, without making eye-contact before going back to flirting with the cop who was standing behind her desk, "You'll have to contact the Driver's License Division. We Only do registration."
FUCKING CUNT.
I was enraged.
All that running around, wasting precious time when I could have been racing towards my luscious dinner....grrr......
so I slammed my car door and I'm pretty sure I had already started crying very angry (hunger-induced) tears.
Then it seemed like one of those surreal moments when every car in the entire parking lot is intentionally working on keeping YOU in your parking space.
I finally had a chance to back out, and I was in one of those end spaces, in a cramped lot, where making the necessary turn to get OUT of the space without hitting any of the near-by morons requires driving over a curb just a little.
My car can handle that, no biggie, but as I discovered it, there were again 43 million cars swarming me, so I pulled back ANGRILY into my space and screamed profanities at my windshield.
As I peeked over my shoulder I see a "nice" man trying to motion me out from his big black truck.
Nice.
Psh. As if.
fucker.
So, angrily, I backed over the god damned curb--spitefully, even, and with pupose!
I peeled angrily-but-cautiously out of that goddamned place and squealed off down the road.
In the wrong direction, because I was too pissed off to wait for a left turn.
So I drove and cried.
I look hot when I'm crying, so it didn't bother me too much. heh.
And I tried to figure out what to do.
Tee ball was rapidly approaching and I realized that I had cut it too close to begin with, and would need to cancel dinner.
The post office was non-negotiable, so I went there next.
Nice puffy red eyes, and all.
Hey! I said I look hot WHILE crying, not after.
Post office had a long line, but all went well.
I left a message for the best friend, cancelling our last minute plans.
Then I went to the store and bought a cake, and some beautiful, dark yellow roses with a reddish edge, and some avocadoes and tomatoes and lime-flavored tortilla chips.
I went home and put it all away.
I checked email and read a couple of blogs.
Then I tried to find my kids' tee ball shirts, which I had purposely washed the night before.
one of them was missing, which reminds me, there was a little tiny shirt in the washer with my clothes this morning--a chick's shirt stating, "diamonds are a girl's best friend."
my first reaction was that the live-in bro-in-law had left in the washer (he did do a load of laundry right before mine) and it belonged to some girl he picked up somewhere...although, that does beg the question of whether or not he's been smuggling girls into the house, but the next thought I had was that it was in with my husband's stuff from a business trip...
I've just realized that it's highly unlikely because I already did all the laundry from his last trip.
But it was a strange little moment.
My husband is the least likely to stray of all the men on the planet, including monks.
But...men have been known to go to strip clubs, and you just never know.
So I'll have to track down its origins and let ya know.
Anyway...the point is, looking for the stupid tee ball shirt made me a little late,
and when I picked the kiddos up, they didn't want to go to the game anyway.
I felt like a loser, letting them just not go, but frankly I did NOT have the right state of mind to deal with that.
AND.
I was still hungry.
I might have had a yogurt when I got home from the store.
And I maaaay have shovelled a couple of angry forkfuls of frosting-laden cake into my mouth...
but I was still hungry.
So we went to my favorite place, Rumbi, a Hawaiian Grill.
If you call ahead, it's always ready when you get there, which is nice because sometimes there's a long line.
It's sort of a walk-up-and-order place, but believe me when I tell you their food runs off the table and takes a flying leap into your mouth and the sweet love that is made is enough to give orgasms to people just watching.
hot DAMN that shit's good.
I had a chicken teriyaki sandwich with pineapple slices on it...
so.
damn.
good.
My mouth is watering.
I ordered a chicken and rice bowl with Jamaican jerk sauce for the boys, but they didn't eat much, so I have glorious and revered leftovers!
Oh, my lucky, lucky fridge--to hold such a thing!
Actually, my fridge is rather down on its luck...
it has a leak somewhere between the freezer and fridge.
It is going to have to be replaced.
I am pretending to be sad, because it really is a great fridge, but...
I love getting NEW things!!
Oh....speaking of which, mr. sweetest of all husbands was so sad yesterday, about my lack of joyousness and his absence.
He said that I have a present that's arriving today...
which was a pretty cool surprise, since I thought I'd already gotten my presents.
He was so sweet and sincere on the phone that it made me cry...yeah, SHUT UP.
Hormones blow.
except when they make ya horny.
ANYWAY.
So then I put the kids to bed and best friend arrived with wine and we had cake and talked until our ears bled,
and then I did a little work and went to bed, setting my alarm so that I could get up and finish my film project this morning.
She saved the day!
Oh, and incidentally, popping in here to read everyone's wonderful birthday wishes was the highlight of my day, too.
I don't mean to make the day sound like a horror show, or anything.
It just was one!

And.
Today...I'm going to puss out on the "good mother" front and take my kids to day care again.
I have tons of unfinished errands, and lunch plans.
I have a whole new respect for working mothers at this stage.
I've always known it would be hard, but I didn't know what exact type of hard it would be.
I can't stand the way it feels to constantly be putting someone else in charge of them--they're my babies!!
Yes, I'll be back to bitching about how suffocating it is to be home with them by early next week.
never fear.

Ok.
enough procrastination....
wish me luck in the home stretch.
yes, Domestic Goddess, I realize I am probably still not "finished".
That's ok, too.

You say it's your birthday--

It's my birthday, too, yeah!

So anyway.
Now I'm not 30 anymore, and that makes me pout a little bit.
Oh, look at that--I'm over it.
It was pretty cool to say, "I'm 30," because it's such a clean number.
Thirty one is fiiiiine.
Who cares??

Ok, so I'm trying to think of fun stuff to do today,
and I just remembered that my license expires today!!!!
This is the most exciting news of all.
I have been talking about it for weeks, and I ended up getting too busy last week to do it, so here I am on the last day.
oh well.
At least I get to have a new picture!!!
and the new style of license, which is cool.
I am a total dork.
Besides that, I'll probably just go to the gym and take my kids to Tee Ball.
I opened presents from my Mom this morning, but I sort of screwed myself out of presents from hubby (by buying my own gifts and then choosing to put them into immediate use rather than wrap them) and he's out of town.
Celebrated with friends on Saturday, and that was fun.
So.
Kind of a lonely birthday, but I plan to make the best of it.
It's just another day.

Anyway, enough of the restrained self-pity!
There's nothing I really WANT to do, anyway.
I'm trying to think...what is there that I would love to do?
Maybe something I haven't done in a while, or somewhere I've never been?
Oh!
The hot springs in Diamond Fork--that is my favorite hike of all the world.
Maybe I'll drag my boys...?
Or see if their grandma could keep them?
Ok, it might be time to call Jasmine.
Crap.
We can't miss tee ball again, though.
They missed their last game because they were having a sleepover at my/their friends' house.
Ok, will brainstorm.
I will do something special, mark my words, sonny! (huh?)

I am filled with joy.
Or green tea...?
well, either way, I feel a bit sparkly and smiley.
See how powerful utah's natural wonders (or green tea) are to me?

Happy Birthday to all who share this day with me (that's you, Karina!),
and to me, too!
We are awesome.

Smiling, unshowered, and nearing the finish line

I am, however, out of adjectives.
I am on film #40 or something.
I will go shower as soon as I get through the first drafts on the remaining 5 movies.
If I had the brain power to imagine an appropriate scene, I would probably make it an extra long shower, wink-wink, but christ.
That ain't happenin'.
...see what I mean?
"ain't" work its way into my vocabulary.

I can't seem to stop sneezing, either.
Last night was fun.
Someone took pictures, so I'll post one of the dress when I get them.
And will add "buy new camera" to my short-list of things to do next week.
A list that will also feature such items as "oh yeah...the GYM..." and "the floor could really do with a mopping. or two."

who ME??
Being dramatic???
Nevah.
My brain really is rather uncooperative, though.
It is like a sponge that has been wrung dry.
is 'wrung' a word??
who cares?
(that was rhetorical, dumbass.)

bye.
bye.
Tonight, drunken audioposting and karaoke!!!

Ok, I'm back, post shower.
My brain has actually melted and dripped out of my left ear, so I'm going to hang uot here for a bit while I figure out how to get it back inside my skull.
Hope you don't mind the company.
wait...this is MY place; you better not mind the company.
or you can leave.
ha.

But seriously...I came back to my desk after my shower and opened the next file on my list.
and.
there was more blankness inside my head than the document itself.
I think I needed a longer break.
And possibly one unmarred and by the now-scarred brother in law walking past my open door while I was getting out of the shower.
Thanks, kids.
Been waitin' months for that one to happen.
Been shouting "close MY door!" during showers for months, and yet this time...
I heard someone coming and assumed it was my husband so I only barely (ha!) ducked out of sight, somewhere just before the last minute.
In other words, I'm sure he got a solid glimpse.
Oh well.
I'm sure it was a blur of white skin.
whatever.
I'm not too worried about it, but I'm still going to pretend it never happened.

I also composed a little something...
something about why I'm so hilariously stressed out about this film project.
something along the lines of "I've been in a state of semi-hibernation and semi-depression for the past 6 years, living in a conveniently arranged little world that keeps me from feel pressure of any kind."
and it's true.
As I've mentioned, pre-twins I was quite a fabulous employee, a little ass-kisser, if you will.
But...
with the rending asunder of my abdomen came the rending asunder of my world,
as I was numbly forced to choose which baby to feed first, which to hold first when both were crying...god, it makes my chest ripple just to remember those foggy, fat days.
And now I'm free from it all, as they have morphed, somewhat miraculously, into fairly independent, most amazing little-but-oh-so-big boys.
But.
I've still had very little required of me deadline-wise for the past 6 years, so I supposed it's only natural that I'm noticing this in a big way.
Besides which, I MAAAAAAAAY be a bit of a drama queen.
Possibly.
Perhaps.
But more than that, I am just wired in such a way that if I don't vent about something, or talk about it, then it festers inside me.
This is true for both the good and the bad things in my life:
all must be told and retold until I am emptied of its clutches.
For better or for worse, that's how I'm made.
I don't mind it much, except when I feel like I'm whining or bitching in an overt or heavy manner.
So there.

And...
I know that God has already blessed Mozart, but I hope he'll do it again because the Man has saved my soul these past few days.
I can't work without music, but have gotten old and in my old age, those darn rock songs distract me from writing, so that just wasn't working.
I would make sweet love to his corpse if I could find it.
(ok, not really. that's utterly foul.)

the awards dinner was fun...
brother did not win, but just being nominated truly was an honor, as each of the other cnadidates was amazing as well.
my favorite sister in law and I had a good time making fun of mormons.
I'll have to remember some of the funniest stuff we said, and share it with you.

Ok.
I think my brain may have sufficiently recovered.
I have 2 hours until I need to get ready and leave for my play.
Which I then get to WRITE about.
awesome.

Just in case anyone's wondering:
I am still enjoying this project and am grateful for and pleased with the opportunity.
And it sounds like I was just saying that, but I'm not.
I am pretty darned thrilled by it all.
Just tired and sickish.
not to mention mr. husband slept all day instead of watching the kids.
bah.

Fri(ed Brain on Toast)day

Minus the toast.

Nah, brain is functioning on several cylinders, so it's cool.
I'm trucking right alon with my project, and that's even cooler.

Tonight is the formal dinner thingy--
Hubby's renting a tux and I got a faaaantastic dress.
And shoes...
They are gorgeous, and I'll find a way to post pictures.
This I swear!
heh.
The shoes, though...
I didn't try them on very carefully, because frankly, they looked perfect and technically "fit" me, so I bought them.
Upon closer inspection...
they are at about a 95% grade.
yeah, like on mountain roads, when it warns of a steep section?
yup.
I swear to god, my foot is perpendicular to the floor.
Them's gonna be wicked comfterbul.
oh well.
Hm.
That reminds me.
Next audio post:
Maine accent.
and not only that, but Maine jargon.
And you guys can guess what the FUCK I'm talking about.
Winner gets...
nothing, of course.
But that reminds me...
I do need to finalize the ole Braless Tuesday calendar and get it up fer sale.
Especially since I'm not posting new ones!!
Hahahahaa--my evil marketing plan is working!
I'm going to be RIIIIIIIIIICH!!
har.

Ok, so the dress I'm wearing looks a LOT like the one Baby wore in the performance scene of Dirty Dancing, but it's black instead of pink.
Sort of like the Marilyn Monroe one, but black instead of white.
...and did I mention it's BLACK?
heh.
I've also discovered that I can wear my corset/garters/thigh highs under it.
I am going to feel so sexy, I might even manage to roll the husband before passing out!
Hey, there's free top shelf boooooze, you can NOT blame me for planning to get tanked.
Yup, those shoes are going to prove lethal.
I know.
Oh well.
At least I'll die happy!

OH!!!!
Speaking of dying or whatever,
the maw-in-law took her sons out to dinner to honor them for Father's Day last night,
and shared some very important news with them:
THE SKY IS FALLING.
Er, well.
Jeebus is boarding his earth-bound shuttle, I believe is her suspicion.
It's the end of the world as we know it, and she for one, feels fine.
"Time is being measured in months, not years."
Well, piss.
There goes my plan for becoming a world-famous pin-up girl!!
jeeesh.
Her sons had a good time making fun of her as they all hung out here after.
It's kind of weird for me to hear about that stuff.
The brainwashed part of me tugs at my conscience and wishes I would listen.
The logical part of flips that part off, gives it a wedgie, a swirly, steals its lunch money, and stuffs it in a locker.
I also learned a fabulous new expression for those rare moments:
jesus titty-fuckin christ!
...I guess if I'm going to use that, I better hope he's not homeward bound, eh?
Oh wait, that was John Denver.

Ok, back to the grind.
The fun grind.
And don't forget: Saturday is the night to paaaarty for my birthday.
Be there or be square.
uh.
I just remembered that somewhere close to 0% of you are within driving distance of me.
bugger.
well, party where you are.
happy weekend!
don't forget the important Fathers in your life!

Yakkity-Yak...

Procrastination...

man's best friend.
Well, mine, at least.

I have been working very hard at finding things to do other than my appointed task.
I am dreading the actual writing of these things...
Have been doing research, including watching parts of films, and parts of wrong versions of films by the same name, and screwing the husband.
Grrrr.

I wish that this film thingy could have happened differently...
like, I wish I had enough time to watch each film, to absorb it and spin something lovely to entice festival attendees to watch THAT film.
Oh well.
I'm glad to be able to help.

tomorrow will be a fun day.
And thursday I will go dress shopping...
because Friday is an awards dinner, formal attire.
the porsche-driving harvard MBA bro-in-law was nominated for entrepreneur of the year.
Should be fun.
Saturday, another play.
Sunday, father's day.
Monday...ssshh....my birthday....
Tuesday, dinner with Becky & Justin!!
Weeee---
I love it!!

Ta ta for now, tiggers--

Oh what a beautiful day

or something.

here, read these.
(follow link, then click on "sections", then "A&E"...)

love yous guys

Nervous Breakdowns aren't only funny when they happen to other people...

No, I'm serious!!
They're pretty humorous as they're happening, too.
Ok, so it wasn't technically
officially
precisely
a "nervous breakdown".
It may have been more of a Communication Breakdown...
nah, that was just the Zepellin CD playing in the background.
Of my head.
Anyway, here's the scoop:
when I got the "word" on Friday, I just sort of tucked it away.
Mr. Anderson had been out of town all week and I was focused on his return.
(yes, say it like the Matrix, "...that is the sound of inevitability." fuck yes.)
Then there was the play to see Friday night,
and write about on Saturday,
the play to see Saturday,
the BBQ to go to after,
the 2nd play to be written about Sunday morning,
the shopping for the Sunday night BBQ to be done,
the editor to meet with,
and the 2nd BBQ to go to.
Whew, that made me tired.
So, BBQs aside, I knew that my creative powers were sort of spoken for until (at the earliest) Sunday at 3pm, when I met with my editor, so I didn't process the flim-flam festival yet.
Not really.
Cuz I knew I had a commitment to write two articles before I could start that.
SOOOOOOOOOOO.........
I pushed my limit, and was 20 minutes late to my meeting, in order to finish the second review.
Sort of.
It was closer to 300 words than the requisite 500, and the final sentence was "something something and."
...editor asked me if I had something in mind to follow the conjunction at that junction.
I said, "Yeah, uh...nope. Not a thing. Just sorta trailed off there."
He perfuctorily deleted the "and" and moved right along.
He liked them both, but the second one was really pretty shoddy.
It was a rough draft with one read-through.
The other one I like better, or maybe I just liked that play better.
Sheesh.
If I thought it was tough juggling two reviews in 3 days, what in the
fucking
bloody
god damned
hellfire
and damnation
am I thinking, signing up for 25 film descriptions in 7 days???
(breathe...)
Ok, so.
The long-story-short of it is that I was relieved to have been able to turn in and edit both reviews today, because that saved me more time in two different ways.
One, not having to spend more time writing it, and
two, not having to spend two hours of my day just to "edit" it.
After today's 7 minutes for two pieces session,
I'm pretty sure I'm going to ask if I can do these over the phone.
It's a little silly.
I'm gooood, man, I don't need no stinkin' editing.
Not from some whipper snapper, at least.
hahahaha--just kidding.
I like doing it.
It makes me feel cool.
I'm easily the hottest girl to enter that newsroom.
...uh, make that "woman".
jesus fuckin' christ I'm old.
Anywho.
So, the relief I felt from having finished that commitment was bum rushed by the reality of the festival situation and I started sort of freaking out.
I tried calling just about everyone I could think of...
left a couple of shaky messages with girlfriends,
ha.
I just looked up at the tv, which hubby is setting up with the new HD dish gear,
and a show on comedy central that is going to be on later tonight is called
Dog Bites Man.
No kidding.
That makes me smile.
And it reminds me of how cool it is when someone quotes you, and you remember it as something they had previously written, not yourself.
Did that make sense?
Eh, it did to one of you.
Anywho.
Where was I?
Oh yeah...at the beginning of the breakdown.
So, then I arrived at my niece's house to pick her up (and her husband) for the family birthday BBQ thingy (because it's 45 miles away, and have you SEEN gas prices??).
When we got in the car to leave,
I almost backed into a passing vehicle.
We laughed, and I called myself names.
We continued on.
Approaching a red light, I planned to turn right,
but as we drew closer, I discovered that it was the wrong street,
so I would be better off continuing straight.
Well.
It was STILL a red light, but I almost just flew through it.
They corrected my near-mistake.
The guy behind me laughed his ass off, and I cursed at him...
and called myself some more names.
At this point, I explained that I was sort of under some stress.
No worries.
So then, blah blah, go pick up my family and head south.
Party is fun, happy--good times.
However.
The youngest child, my three year old nephew, was playing near the swings.
He walked past one of the swings, and right into a person swinging.
I think it was a grownup, because when his mom rushed over to pick him up, I looked over and saw a young woman collapse in tears into her boyfriend/husband's arms.
It knocked the tears right out of me.
It was like getting punched in the gut.
I don't even know quite how to describe it, because my point here is that all my stress surged out of me in that moment.
It was one of those emotional releases, you know?
I almost never hold my stress in like that, so I almost never have a release like that, but, maaaaaaaaaaan.
It was intense.
I felt kind of silly, getting all teary over a little boy's spill, although that isn't really what moved me.
It was the woman's response.
I felt her anguish, her guilt, her sorrow for having hurt a sweet little blonde baby boy.
I knew exactly how she felt, and it's like we connected in that split second and my anxiety rushed out the same way her sadness did.
It was wild.
I felt truly insane.
My niece, who is seriously one of the sweetest and solid people I know, came over and gave me a little half hug and said something just right.
Something that didn't make me feel more embarassed (although I was laughing about it almost as soon as the first tear trickled) or more emotional (which is good, because I would not have been able to handle that...).
And I laughed and said, "I told you I was going to have a nervous breakdown today!!"

So.
There.
Now you know: I cry sometimes, too.
It's not just for sissies anymore.
(sadly, the status juuust changed, so anyone caught crying before today still qualifies. You know who you are.)
just kidding.

Deep breaths.
It's gonna be cool.
I'm really not all that stressed, by the way.
It was just the fact that I didn't process a large chunk of information properly.
Like...I knew it was out there, and I know this week is going to be pretty busy, but I'm cool with that.
I'm goingn to stay
calm
cool
collected...
and caffeinated.
I have a plan, and a schedule.
And then our friends just called...
Wednesday at 2.
boating.
dinner.
baaaaaaaaaand.
Same band as the other night.
Intense, heavy shit.
Did I mention the guitarist looks like a sexier version of Elijah Wood?
gulp.
scrawny young thing, but still.
beautiful.
in that sonnet-y way.
in that i wouldn't touch him for fear of turning to steam and evaporating into the night air.

Anywho.
More thoughts on the cross-country trek:
well, first of all, I've adored reading all your comments on the subject,
and will pop back in and answer them later (or tomorrow...), but.
I must say a few quick things:
a. I would rather endure 4 days of nightmarish road trip hell by myself than put 300 passengers at risk of involuntary manslaughter. double. (and trust me, it would be involuntary--or self-defense, at least!)
b. we're probably flying to Maine, anyway, so to hell with that reasoning.
c. I hate lists today.
d. why am I still making one??
e. if the 1100 miles of barren nothingness of Wyoming and Nebraska didn't exist, I might be more inclined to acquiesce to the driving bullshit.
actually, Nancy reminded me, that if I took I-70 instead of I-80, I could go through the gorgeous rockies and lovely Kansas, AND stop in for chit-chat/twin fest...hmmm...will have to consider. I've always wanted to go I-70.
I could make it the first leg of my blogger world tour...
Bring my video camera, make a documentary of it.
One crazy woman's journey to sanity--the back way.
eh.
we'll see.
Maybe I better put the goddamned horse before the cart, eh???
Write synopses.
Be congratulated for their brilliance by Big Man.
Scurry to festival for face-to-face introduction so as to make more of an impression.
And, of course, pitch him my brilliant movie idea.
(yes, I have one. No, I'm not telling.)

Ok.
Please don't call the funny farm on me.
I'll be just fine.
AND dandy.
Both at once.
Concurrently, even.
nighty night--

I am a sample in a jar

I'm trying to decide if I want to take a roadtrip with my kids...
a 30 hour drive to the film festival,
then another 25 or 30 to my family in Maine...
only 48 on the way back, though!
Yikes.
Cuz what if it's so awful on the way, that just getting in the car for the return sends me into cardiac arrest?
If we get a portable DVD player, and Game Boys for them then I can see it working.
And most importantly, if I go into it with a good attitude.
It'll be a grand adventure.
We can stay at hotels
(which fascinates them because Daddy stays at them when he travels)
and eat junk food,
and stop anywhere that looks cool or weird or interesting
and get out and run around sometimes.
I dunno.
I can digest that part ok,
but it's the thought of then having to spend time as "company",
with the darling little terrors on their best behavior...
which is only hit-or-miss under the best of circumstances.
I guess the key is: the boys only stress me out in several instances.
1. when I am trying to do something and they are interupting me
2. when I have company or am company and they won't leave my side and/or stop talking to me
3. when I and/or they are hungry/tired
So...number one is easy, because we'll just be driving and I won't have anyone/thing else I need to pay attention to.
yes, I'll be ready for a break from them once evening hits, but they'll sleep well, and I can sit up and read or blog or sneak down to the hotel bar and screw some stranger.
ooops. Not that one.
So then there's number 2, and I just need to work on that.
And number 3 will be dicey, but manageable.
Ok, then.
I might have talked myself into this.
I guess I'm just jonesing for a roadtrip, and this might be the only way I can do both the festival and my trip home.
And I really feel like it's important for me to meet the man face-to-face.
But maybe he'll hate my write-ups so it will be best if I don't.
Ok.
I should be working.
I only have less than half of one review written (the play was awesome, by the way),
and I have to leave in two hours for the second play.
I then have to scurry home and go 20 miles south for a BBQ.
But it's worth it.
Good friends, good times.
And we're swimming, so I'll get to see that one guy's pierced nipples again.
Rowr.

Hey...thanks for letting me dump out the contents of my head here...
it's a huge help.
I am daily amazed by how many REAL people there are in this little section of BlogLand.
I have evolved.....from normal to way-too-wild and back to normal.
Yeah, normal me is pretty wild, anyway, so it works out ok.

Blogging hiatus--

but for a really good reason!
And, of course, knowing me I won't really be as absent as all that.
However.
For those of you in the know--
(and I'm spelling this wrong so that searches won't lead people here)
Traaaaverse City is back on!!
I start today.
I have a partial film list,
there will be 47 total.
Gulp.
Ok, backing up--for those of you not in the know.
I will be writing the film descriptions for a philm phestival (sorry, again with the search terms avoidance) in the above mentioned Michigan Town.
I am really excited for the opportunity to work with/for a nationally known,
and both revered and loathed, director.
His politics aren't always my own, but I like what he's doing.
Anyway.
Very cool.
And...my nair has reached the wash-off point, so I better go.
yes, that means I'm standing in front of my laptop naked, but for some hastily smeared Nair.
Hey!
hubby's been gone all week--wouldn't want him coming home to stubble!!
mwuah--

The silence is slithering through my house...

and I want to be wrapped in it.
but purging my thoughts requires muted tappings on a thickly buttoned keyboard.
I know, it sounds odd, but that's how it feels.
The keys press firmly but with a...a thickness.
That's all.

The weather was crazy today.
Wild and wonderful.
I think I say, "wild and wonderful" a lot...
that's just because to me, wild is wonderful, and wonderful is often wild...
but anyway.
I was driving west, with a small airport to my left, farmland stretching around it, to the hills.
And all I could see was a huge, brown cloud.
I couldn't decide if it was a fire or a dust storm.
It didn't smell like fire, until much later, when I left the store,
but the wind was raging and the ground is dry.
The clouds were amazing...
my son called me a sunshine cloud, as he looked up at a bank of white-edged rain clouds with a patch of blue sunny sky pressed close.
Me.
A sunshine cloud!
Oh, oh, my heart.
Where did he come up with that?
Those miniature angels fill me so full of love that it does hurt.
To see their tanned little faces, freckle speckled noses, smiling up at me.
So handsome, like tiny men--tiny, soft, smooth, innocent men.
I do so love this rollercoaster I've bought a round trip ticket on.

I am searching for my muse.
I realized today there is a partial reason for my lost ability to find words.
There are several, I suppose.
One of them is very complex, and I'm not sure I should try to explain it here.
I can attempt to move beyond this problem, though.
I don't need a muse to help me breathe my soul out through my fingertips.
I love being inspired, though.
I'm not sure how my inspiration has been truncated, but I think I'll grab it by the balls and pull it to me...
I think I love too deeply, and too diversely.
...often, too perversely. heh...

Ok, enough of the deep stuff.
I watched a movie tonight.
A New World.
I am still not sure how I feel about it.
I know that I love collin Farrel more than any sane woman should, and that I would risk my marriage and my STD-free status for one thrust of his...hips, but that's getting off the point.
getting off...hahaha...
ok.
Like I was saying: the movie was not great, but it had beautiful cinematography and a dreamy, abstract quality (through parts of it) and with Colin Farrel to distract from the oddly lacking dialogue, it was worth watching.
Yum.
Not nearly as devourable as some people with sexy dialects and far lower skank-ratings, though.
Just more easily objectified.
Because some people, whose voice sends shivers down my spine, and whose outsides are as intensely and intricately beautiful as their insides...well, those people are--
fun to objectify, too, who am I kidding?
That's ok, though, cuz he's a man; he likes it.
I am feisty today, sorry...

I was talking to a good friend today, from Maine.
She was telling me about the new man she's seeing...
Dunno.
Made me crave that newness, but just for a moment.
Cuz then I remembered how quickly the newness usually fades, only to be replaced with doubt and discontent.
Blah blah, whatever.
It was most satisfactory to chat with her...
naw, "most satisfactory" is the exact opposite version of the same thing I felt.
It was...soul quenching.
She has found family again, a near-orphan.
My uncle and his wife have taken her under a wing.

My next review is in tomorrow's paper.
Thursday's.
I am still surprised by that shivery feeling of sending my words out into the world--
did I include all the pertinent info? Was it all correct? Were my ideas clear?
So that's today, for most of you.
I mean, when most of you read this it will be Thursday.
Or Friday...
Ok, that's not a "most".
Even if it is a teeth trailing across smooth skin portion of you.
My eyelids are heavy...
will someone help me hold them up?
Better yet, hold my hand and walk with me up two flights of stairs, and fold me into cool sheets.
yes...run your long fingers down my side, cupping around to pull me to you by my ass.
fuck me slowly as my eyelids flutter and my neck arches back, hair spilling over pillows, arm flung sleepily above my head.
rock with me, and feel me join your rhythm with my pliable, half-sleeping body.
fall asleep inside me, lace your fingers through mine, kiss my forehead, my nose, then my lips...I kiss you back, with a trace of my usual hunger, and a flash of desire i almost wake up.
You smile and release me back to my dreams which grow more beautiful with every beat of your heart on my cheek.

good
niiiiiiight..........

If laughter isn't the best medicine, then I don't know what is.

medical marijuana, perhaps?
har.
Just got off the phone with the Notorious B.S.A. (a.k.a. Becky)
Oh, crap, not really.
It would be RSA, but close enough.
We got going on one of those laughing fits...
you know the ones.
In fact, you've heard them on at least one audio post.
But this one was highly necessary, as I've been bordering on borderline homicidal lately.
Not suicidal.
PUH-leeez.
That would deprive the world of one of its greatest assets.
So anyway, I actually had one outburst that was painful.
It felt like a freight train rising out of my diaphragm.
I wish I could share the conversation with you, but it was born out of a rather unpleasant conversation starter.
And then we were tumbling through the funniest shit you can imagine, along the lines of "Death Becomes Her"....
well, basically I told her that when I get a book deal, I'll buy a house and we can live there together--I'll get my tummy tuck, she'll get some boobs, and we'll fuck as many guys as possible.
This was the beginning...
so then it was jokes about face lifts and needing to move on to the black men, cuz we'd be too loose, then she said, "or blind men!" I think that's when the freight train of laughter burst forth.
anyway.

oh my...
I just caught a glimpse of the dusk sky out the top of my shuttered windows...
must.
go.
to backyard.
Or to roof?
yes.
Roof.
If I don't comment within the hour, call 911.

thank the good lord for good friends who can make you laugh.

Look at my forehead...

I stole this from someone’s blog a while back.

It is AWESOME.
Happy Number of the Beast Day, evil little ones!!

660 = Approximate number of the Beast
DCLXVI = Roman numeral of the Beast
666.0000 = Number of the High Precision Beast
0.666 = Number of the Millibeast
/ 666 = Beast Common Denominator
(-666) ^ (1/2) = Imaginary number of the Beast
6.66 e3 = Floating point Beast
1010011010 = Binary of the Beast
6, uh . . . what was that number again? = Number of the Blonde Beast
1-666 = Area code of the Beast
00666 = Zip code of the Beast
666mph = The speed limit of the Beast
$665.95 = Retail price of the Beast
$699.25 = Price of the Beast plus 5% state sales tax
$769.95 = Price of the Beast with all accessories and replacement soul
$656.66 = Walmart price of the Beast
$646.66 = Next week's Walmart price of the Beast
Phillips 666 = Gasoline of the Beast
Route 666 = Way of the Beast
666 F = Oven temperature for roast Beast
666k = Retirement plan of the Beast
666 mg = Recommended Minimum Daily Requirement of Beast
6.66 % = 5 year CD interest rate at First Beast of Hell National Bank, $666 minimum deposit.
$666/hr = Beast's lawyer's billing rate
Lotus 6-6-6 = Spreadsheet of the Beast
Word 6.66 = Word Processor of the Beast
i66686 = CPU of the Beast
665.9997856 = The Number of the Beast on a Pentium
666i = BMW of the Beast
DSM-666 (revised) = Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the Beast
1232 Octal, Apt. 29A = Beast's hexed address
668 = Next-door neighbor of the Beast
333 = The semi-Christ


And, just because I can’t concentrate enough to write something evil…
Here’s my re-recycled Evil story:

Can’t get it to post…something tells me it’s SATAN.
Har.

Here’s the link if you haven’t read it and want to do so.

Ok, so I just logged in and wrote the coolest little new story. And then.
because I was so afraid of blogger eating it, I highlighted it, so I could fucking hit "control c".
and before I had a chance to touch ANYTHING, it disappeared.
Un
FUCKING
believable.
I feel nauseous.
I fucking hate it.
How did that happen???
I tried everything.
I tried to hit "undo" but it wouldn't work.
so then I thought, hey maybe I already pushed "control c", so I pushed "paste" and it pasted this little section that I had moved previously.
I tried recover post.
I can't believe it.
It wan't even that evil...
Just a woman who turned a stadium full of lame ass satan-worshipper-wannabes to stone with an ancient curse.
god dammmmmmmmmmmmmmmmit.
fuck.
jesus.
yes, that's right, fuck jesus.
maybe after i eat something, so i'm less ornery, I'll try to regurgitate it.
god dammmmmit.

I'm back.
I still can't believe I lost that stupid post.
I was writing about a woman...
Something about...
She was driving her black car, through the black of night, with her black heart beating, even though it shouldn't have been.
Blah blah, the bullets that had rained down on her, and she was changing, silently but didn't know it.
fuck.
I just can't believe it.
It's all sort of still there in my head, the images I encountered as I found my way through the story, and yet.
Yet I can't seem to extract the words.
This is really gnawing at me.
I liked it.

blah.

I guess I deserve it, eh?
stupid satan.
I hate him.
let's just ignore him today, in silent protest.

Mondays aren't for sissies...

Stupid Blogger.  
All I wanted to do was POST.
And would it let me?
No.
I’ve been scorned, shunned—sidelined.
Blogger is off pouting in a corner somewhere, refusing to take my calls.
Well, it can lick my ass.
(and no, don’t bother asking: YOU can’t.)
I, rather belatedly, remembered that I could just use Word to write (and post) this.
So here I am.
Can you see me?
I’m in Word.
I know—it looks different in here, doesn’t it?
More spacious, and yet, somehow more confining.

Anyway.

I think it was a good weekend.
And I think I’ll soothe my aching soul by spending money.
It works pretty well, actually, so don’t FUCKING knock it.
If it’s not that, it’s food, and t-rust me, I’m ok in the non-starvation department.
I could probably live for a month on just water,
And lord oh lord, don’t I wish I had the balls to try!!
It’s ok.
I’m still beautiful.
Ha. Saying that felt like soda coming out of my nose.

I want to get in my car and drive east.
Or north.
I have bits and pieces coming together for a book idea…
And some great advice from a dear blogger: don’t try so hard, just let it flow.
Thanks, sweet thing.
I wish…
I wish that my husband trusted me.
So that I could pack up the car and take the kids on a crazy cross-country journey,
And spend the summer nestled in the forest of Maine writing and writing and listening to the leaves and wind harmonizing together to shush my frayed nerves.
I wish I could take a summer vacation from life.
Or even just a couple of weeks.
To be alone and solitary in the world.
Just me and my thoughts.
Just me and my muse.
Just me and my…passions, which is probably why Mr. doesn’t like the idea of me being alone.
I would never, and he should know that by now.
Whatever.
I want to climb to the top of the highest mountain in the Wasatch range and let my lungs purge me of all that is black or heavy or roughly textured.

Busy week ahead.
Busy week behind…
Most of you would look at my planner and scoff at how lightly filled my schedule is.
But it feels busy for someone who’s used to miles and miles of emptiness in all directions.
Good busy, though.
Just.
Busy.
And hoping to look under a rock sometime and find…
Find…
The requisite self-control to start,
Fill out,
And
Finish
That oft-discussed novel.
Eh.
I will.
She’s right.
No more tryyyyyyyying.
Just do.

I dreamed last night of a September 11th sequel…
It was pretty horrific.
Standing on the Jersey shore and watching plane after plane after plane after plane
Fly into buildings.
I blame Will Smith(erenes)….
Because we watched “I, Robot” before bed.
No, before sex.
We watched something else before bed.
I wasn’t in the mood, but I should have been.
I was sullen and scatter-thoughted.
Couldn’t focus.
Sick of being sick of being alone.
Get over it already.
Hm. Maybe I will.
It’s life.
I want too much.
I expect too much.
I need too much.
I used to give too much…do I still?

What a chalk-dust and moth post this is!!

I must leave for the gym five minutes ago, so that I don’t risk losing my kids’ slot in the daycare.
Fuckity forkful of faaaaack.

I am going to have a good day.
Selfish little girl…

Gorgeous. Motherfucking. Day.

Absolute perfection.
Yesterday was...
a bit of a wash, really.
I put my kids on the bus and crawled back into bed.
I chatted with hubby while he got ready for work,
then tumbled back into sand-man land.
I had strange dreams--
whose content eludes me now, but was disturbing, nonetheless.
I woke to see the clock shouting at me:
TEN FORTY FIVE
A delayed start ran through me, and I sat up.
Then my inner slug whispered, "you have 25 minutes..."
and I crumpled back down into my soft, cool sheets.
I lingered in half-awake-ville until I miraculously opened my eyes at 11:00.
Stretching and groaning, I stumbled from bed and considered going in my PJs.
After eating a few bites of watermelon, I felt energized--
like a triple A, when I needed a car battery.
But it was enough, and I put on some gym clothes (hoping this would force me to go there)
and went to retrieve the sweet little ones from school.
We hit Subway and then home.
I did a bit of computer stuff and then told the kids it was time to go to the gym.
I went upstairs to get my shoes...
and my bed lured me into its warm embrace again.
The Mask 2 was playing on HBO and that was the perfect excuse to invite the kids to join me for some lazy time.
They dug it.
It is not a grown ups movie, but it was fun for them.
And then...
when I could take it no longer, I got in the shower.
I had too much to do yesterday to wallow in my own self...not pity, no...I was wallowing in my own self-gratification, maybe.
Something like that.
Hubby called just in the nick of time (or is that "knick"??) to tell me he was coming home early.
All my problems were solved.
I could leave the kiddos with him while doing the retardationalized errands I had been avoiding, because I didn't want to drag the kdis.
Yay me.

The end of the day brought terribly unsanitary things on the kitchen counter with my husband, to which my sluggish mind was not quite atuned, so he thought I wasn't into it...I was, just so sleepy...
Then we moved it upstairs, cuz that man sure does take his time.
Which is a good thing, it's just that kitchen counters are hard and my bed is slightly less so (no, really, it's practically a futon).
And then, of course, I was energized.
Psh.
So I went out for Krispy Kremes, because that's what I deserved after a day of
DOING NOTHING.
ooooh, well.
We also were lucky enough to stumble upon a run of all the previous episodes of "Big Love", so we started that.
I have to say: nothing like polygamists I've known/known of.
And yes, I've known some personally.
They were too modern, too normal--too unspiritual.
But other than that, I like it.

And I believe this concludes today's segment of "A Day in the Life of the Most Boring Woman Alive".
Thanks for tuning in.
Maybe someday I'll start posting nipples again.