still hanging...

I know I've totally ignored this blog of mine and I honestly don't intend to jump right back into it anywhere near where I used to be, but I just had to get Giada off the top...

The last few months have been kind of a blur for me: In October I finally started the job I got in May only to suddenly loose it in November. December was spent back on the beach with warm temps, sunny skies and high hopes. I visited far away family and long lost friends and celebrated that the year was over. January brought new ideas, new friends, hopeful prospects, cooler temps and rain- lots and lots of rain.

February is still young but my visions remain strong even though some of my hopes somewhat banished. My bank account is depleted, my hair is much longer and as of yesterday my wine cabinet is now empty...

I'll be one year older in two more weeks and probably 1lb heavier in 20 more days. (planning a huge wine and cheese party to get that wine cabinet filled up again)

Southern California living has totally brought me to other levels- I'm more relaxed than I've ever been and I'm unemployed; I'm feeling stronger than I ever have and I haven't been running in quite some time; I've been more creative visually than I even knew I could be and I've stopped blogging; and I've learned how to connect with my spiritual and intuitive side a whole lot quicker and I feel strangely connected to those homeless folks living on the beach- I get it.

The views still amaze me, the weather still warms me while the sun feeds me and the air still quiets my mind. Living without a net is really hard... but unbelievably beautiful (the view is from Giada's bedroom) and I'm looking forward to March when my wine cabinet is full again. Hope you all are well-

Cheers

hot mom #1

She already made one list but after this photo we're starting a new one...

HOT MOM'S:

First up, Giada De Laurentiis. I know the ketchup's not sexy, but come on now...

wine of the month

July's wine is this little delicious gem.

It's good "recession" wine coming in at $10.99 or less.

It's got an interesting label.

A good choice to bring to a group of women because of it's name.

Substantial enough for a meaty pizza or some olives before dinner.

Available in fine retail and grocery stores nation wide.

It tastes smooth and feels mellow going down.

Looks good in a gift basket.

Great basic wine to have on hand and pop open when the guests need another.

manhattan beach: more than a beach

Last Thursday it was off to Manhattan Beach for the day. I figure since I have the time these days I might as well go sightseeing and Manhattan Beach is a mere 13 miles from my house. After a lazy morning at home, I hit the road around 11:00 and was on the beach by 11:35- not bad. I had never been to Manhattan Beach before, all I knew was that it was very close to LAX and for some odd reason I was under the impression that it was going to have a crazy-busy, very "LA" feel to it- more so than a hip, Southern California, beach volleyball feel to it. Well, it proved to be all of the above, and more...

Before I left I had read that the Manhattan Beach Open was starting there that day so I was a little worried about the parking but thankfully I ended up finding a spot on the main thoroughfare-Manhattan Beach Blvd, where the parking was free and the walk down to the beach was a breeze. The Blvd leads down to the pier and when I got down there I found out there's not much on that pier except a small cafe, a free mini aquarium and tons of people fishing- not so exciting, especially compared to some other piers in Southern California. It was however a great view for me to gain some perspective on this whole LA beach scene thing: Surfers to the South of the pier, Boogie boards to the North (that's the 'rule') with the Volleyball tournament scattered all over the south end of the beach. It was still early in the day when I made my way off of the pier and over to the sand with the athletes to watch a few minutes of the preliminary rounds, but it wasn't long before a guy walked by me with a Subway sandwich when I got really hungry all of a sudden. I peeled myself away from that very relaxing, sunny, mellow volleyball area and headed back up Manhattan Beach Blvd in search of some food.

Downtown Manhattan Beach is a dining, drinking and shopping mecca and it's all a 1/2 a block away from the beach which I guess is what makes this particular "beach" town so popular with the little Missie's, family vacationers and Hollywood types who feel they want a breath of fresh air but don't want to stray too far from chaos. I grabbed my sandwich and made my way through the sweaty crowds to get back to the beach. This time I was headed over on the North side of the Pier away from the games so I could eat my turkey sub in peace. I must have walked for at least 10 minutes; the beach was packed with groups of campers, families with little babies and packs of young giggly teens - I wanted no part of any of that so I walked, and walked until I found a quiet place to sit. The beach front itself is about 2 miles long and equipped with all the essentials: lifeguards every 100 yards, semi-big surf , plenty of sand and volleyball nets as far as the eye can see.

After I scoffed down my sandwich and lounged a bit, I strolled back over to watch the ladies play some ball, then took a leisurely stroll around town to soak up the Manhattan vibe. Oddly enough, this place wasn't doing it for me. The crowds were too thick, my feet were dirty from the sand (not the cleanest beach in Southern CA), the retail frenzy felt way too enmeshed with the actual beach and I got a sense that take away the US Open and this area could easily drift into more like a Hollywood cocktail party feel and less like a beach volleyball town feel (unless you stick close to the shore). Manhattan Beach may be known as the beach volleyball capital of the world but with it, has also been tagged as one of the wealthiest and politically conservative zip codes in California. I do believe I may have been feeling that when I wandered the streets which is why my day was cut short and I was on the road and home again by 3.

But, all in all I will definitely take C.Love back there with me in the off season for a cocktail and some dinner; I'd like to see the place when it's not the height of summer. I did notice a number of very cool looking outdoor bars right on the main drag that were calling for me to sit down and enjoy the view... there just wasn't any room to sit. Next time.

As far as beaches alone go, I rate it a 6 on my scale 10 and I'll explain my criteria soon... (for the record, Malibu and Zuma Beach was rated an 8)

I wonder ...

If Facebook will ever fade.

If there will ever be a lesbian who opens a women's only bar and the place is busy every night... with lesbians.

If Direct TV will ever figure out how to do the job with less wire.

When these sunglasses will become a thing of the past. And I hope it's soon.

If people that are scrambling to buy Michael Jackson paraphernalia/Cd's ever listened and enjoyed his music when he was alive.

If customer service will ever be important to utility companies.

When people will realize they should never wear these unless they are a little baby. And never wear jeans that look like these ever.

Why the Barefoot Contessa has so many gay men on her show.

If she's ever going to post on this blog again.

Why it really never rains in Southern California and why the hell aren't there any homemade ice cream parlors in this city.

When my girlfriend will come home and what we're going to do for dinner.

The flip side of unemployment

I think I'll dedicate this post to my friend t2, out there in Atlanta who's sporting a new hair cut... and recently laid off from her job.

I've been officially unemployed for 9 months now; granted it was a voluntary leave but still, I've been without a paying job for a long time. I actually got hired in a new gig about a month ago but I won't start working at it for at least another couple of weeks. It's a new gourmet cafe/market/catering in town that I'll be cooking for and we're having some issues with the city around turning the power on- so until then I wait. Anyway, being unemployed was really easy at first and it wasn't until the dust settled that the issues came up. But through it all, through all of the ups and downs, I can definitely find at least 5 things that not only thrived in this period but kept me sane as well.

Here's my list for the top 5 (in no particular order):

1. No need to take a shower every day.

2. Cocktail hour can start any time you want.

3. Exercising becomes the main focus of the day.

4. 'Time' is irrelevant.

5. Got back to blogging and decided I just can't do the facebook thing...

my day in malibu

As I was driving around Malibu on Pacific Coast Highway I was trying to imagine how the hell I would describe this place to people unfamiliar with it and asking me, "so what's Malibu Beach like?". Then I drove past the welcome sign that said "Malibu, 27 Miles of Scenic Beauty" and I thought yeah, that's definitely true but what kind of beauty, scenic beauty is everywhere in California and this place feels different. Then I kept cruising down Pacific Coast- stopping at various look-out areas, driving down "coastal access routes" and private drives and thought to myself that Malibu is just 'cool'. Cool like surf city cool; It's like beachy, throw back to the 60's cool; like that California laid back vibe cool; like parking your pickup truck on the side of the road and hopping the fence to surf kind of cool. I know that's what the Malibu coast was once, back in the day when Frankie, Annette and Gidget ruled the beach but to actually still be able to feel their presence? Scenic beauty for sure but 27 miles of it almost untouched by time is the real beauty- how that vibe still washes ashore is totally, well... rad.

While the throw back to the 60's beach blanket bingo vibe definitely flows through the beaches, the cliffs, the mountains and the 22 miles of highway running through it, unfortunately it's 2009, Gidget and friends are long gone and finding a place to leisurely park that pick-up is close to impossible because of it's popularity. But fear not my friends, Malibu's Surfrider Beach remains one of California's premiere surfing beaches and I was actually able to park my Toyota 3 or 4 times on Pacific Coast and hop the rail to the beach. My first stop was Zuma Beach. I've heard so much hype about Zuma , I just had to see what all the fuss was about so here goes: Since I didn't see parking on Pacific Coast right away, I was willing to give up the 7 bucks and park in the lot. I got out of my car and feeling a bit overwhelmed, I stood back behind the crowd for a minute to gain some perspective. As I scanned the 2 mile beach it was umbrellas, families and kids as far as the eye could see. Usually whenever I search for a place to sit on a beach this popular I'll attempt to walk far enough away where the crowds thin out so I have some personal space to just be with the beach but unfortunately there was no space to be had in Zuma land that day. I decided to zig zagg my way through the crowds to test the water. When I turned around to get a different perspective I think I felt a wave of disappointment wash over me- I say I think because it was a strange feeling to have but it definitely felt real. Sure, Zuma is a fairly large beautiful Southern California beach; there's excellent surf, plenty of parking available, there's volleyball courts, snack bars and playgrounds, lifeguards are everywhere, the sand is clean and it was actually relatively quiet sounding considering it was a Friday afternoon in July and the place looked like a 3 ring circus- but my vision of Zuma was now blurred. Malibu Barbie and I used to lay our blankets down next to each other and talk about Malibu Beach. I pictured it-she told me. I'm not quite sure what it was I was expecting but I think next time I head to Malibu, Zuma won't be my first stop, It'll be El Matador Beach, which is up a little more North on PCH. It's semi-secluded and there's way more room to dream the dream. On my way back down PCH I actually ended up back at Zuma but at the very North end of it. I was able to squeeze my car into a spot on the road, hop the guard rail and stake my spot on the sand- I felt I needed to give it a second chance. I sat for a good 40 minutes, watching the surfers and feeling the energy of the ocean. I remember saying to myself that it smelled good there, I could actually smell the water and taste the salt and that never happens in Santa Monica... Thankfully Barbie was right after all, I knew she was.

After a bit more cruising I made my final stop at Surfrider beach just to let it all settle into my system before I headed back to the hustle and bustle and reality of Santa Monica. The cool thing about Malibu is that Pacific Coast runs right next to the beach and that doesn't happen everywhere in California and I love it when it does, it's like the land and the sea are one. Malibu is where the houses line up next to each other on the sand so "Summerland" like. It's where most residences are blocked off, fenced off, tucked away or have restricted views because they're people with a famous name and some cash and they can have it that way. And it's where the "scenic beauty" doesn't look like a movie set you can't walk on, it looks like nature you want to lay down on. I came home and said "now I get why so many Hollywood types live in Malibu". I get it because it's removed enough, quiet enough, beautiful enough, close enough, real enough, beachy enough and special enough to be able to call home. It's cool man... really, really cool and I can't wait to go back and spend another day.

That night with salt still on my face and sand on my feet, we ran into our neighbors unexpectedly and ended up sitting around drinking wine all night out on their patio. Just like Barbie said: California livin' is easy!

What I did last summer cont...

OK, so last September I started a post highlighting the top 5 things I did that summer, but for reasons out of my control I only made it to the the top 2. I'm here now to round out the top 5 with my other 3- I know that's pretty lamo especially since I have tons of stuff floating around in my head to write about that is actually present day material, but I intend to highlight my top 5 for this summer in a few months from now and I can't really do that without finishing last year- I just can't. So here goes:

#3. Quitting my job of 13 years

#4. Wine tasting in the rain

#5. Jumping without a net

The month of July 2008 was a big one for me because I had some pretty hefty things on my plate; things that would ultimately determine the course of my life. For starters I made the decision to leave the comfort, familiarity, safety and support of the job that I held for the past 13 years. It was a very easy decision but an extremely difficult task. Sure, there were signs that I should be moving on and things I hated about the daily grind and a strong sense of knowing that this wasn't where I belonged any longer but along with all that turmoil there was also total security. I had that job, my boss and my co-workers wrapped around my little fingers; I was in total control of my life. I made my own schedule (somewhat), had a boat load of vacation time, a huge network of close friends, daily opportunities to have 'fun' at work and actually laugh my ass off, benefits up the wazoo and a 10-15 minute commute. My work life was good - on the outside.

It was July 6 that I told my boss I would be leaving the company... but I would be around for another 4 months. The place I worked at was planning to moving and restructure come November so the time to get out couldn't have been more perfect for me. I eventually closed down the old place, said my goodbyes, cleaned out my stuff and made that 15 minute commute home once and for all. Walking away voluntarily was difficult, especially a month before the holidays and with no immediate plan on the horizon (the big picture had been put into motion but only in the mind) but thankfully I left with a higher knowing that 'all would be OK'. And it is...

My decision to leave my job came from our much larger decision which was made years before to relocate our lives, but what was only starting to become a reality over last summer. Let's just say I did a lot of spiritual growth between May and September and learned many interesting things along the way from some very wise people. I've had spiritual growth, or should I say I've been aware of my spiritual growth for many years now but it was only last summer that I moved to another level with it and for that I am very thankful. It made everything else that summer so much more colorful and alive. And that brings me to the wine...

the Abbey in West Hollywood

Last Sat, we decided to go to The Abbey in West Hollywood. It's not like it was a difficult decision to make at all, it's just that we've been a little tired of 'firsts' and we knew that going there would definitely feel strange and new.

We're talking about the Abbey in West Hollywood people, come on now. The fucking L Word was created around West Hollywood and the cast used to hang out at this place like you and I hang out at our local Starbucks. Trust me, I'm not someone who gets overly excited to grab a glimpse of a famous person, as a matter of fact most of the time they walk right past me and I'm oblivious. It's just really cool to be able to hang out at a place that is kind of famous and very,very cool.

It's a very popular place and it sits on a side street off of Santa Monica Blvd. It was easy for us to get there, all we have to do is hop on Santa Monica Blvd and head East for about 7.8 miles. Not being too confident in knowing where we were going and where all the action took place, we decided to drive around for awhile to scope out the scene. We kind of fell upon The Abbey when we were looking for some parking- but trust me this place is impossible to miss. For starters it's HUGE, it has a total outdoors/indoors California vibe to it, it's really beautifully decorated, it's got some great energy flowing through it and it's packed on a regular basis. It of course caters to the gay boys but it's also quite popular with the lesbos in and around the LA area. It's a bar you go to- to 'see and be seen' and trust me, if you're a gay boy this is definitely the place to go. It was a complete party atmosphere when we entered as if an hour before 'Queer As Folk' just filmed a night club scene there but it was because every Sat they have what they call ABS: skin, sounds and sun. When we walked in under the archway, the sun was hot, the crowd was coiffed, the music was loud, the drinks were flowing and atmosphere was alive and well. Recession/depression?... not here and not on Saturday at the Abbey. One thing about those gay boys, they sure know how to live life and live it in style.

Since there seemed to be a tanning event going on outside and all seats were full, C.Love and I headed in to the bar for a drink and to settle ourselves down. I personally have a hard time checking everything out when I'm not seated or at least settled in a corner somewhere-away from the crowd. I prefer to be on the outside looking in. We hung at the bar long enough to drink 2 drinks each, down some chicken fingers, make small talk with the bartender and then we headed out. It was a perfect way to enter into the gay Hollywood 'scene'... it's difficult to break in when you don't know a soul and we know no one. As famous as this place is, it has a very inviting atmosphere and it's amazingly non intimidating. Granted, everyone around there looks as if they just walked out of a magazine so beware: you will be looked at up-and -down. We have noticed that people on a whole are definitely more put together out here; they are more fit and more conscious of what they put on and in their bodies, which is kind of refreshing I must say.

All in all the afternoon/evening was fun and we're so glad we got that out of the way- another first checked off the list. Now we're good to go into West Hollywood and not feel like we'll be walking onto the set of the L Word with Shane lurking somewhere in the shadows... Anyway, we will go back because the Lesbian scene out here in Santa Monica is null and void. They are here, but not out and not together. It appears the women congregate in West Hollywood and Long Beach and that's it-

We will find them though- trust me.

It's Official!

OK, I know it's been almost 3 months since my last measly post but I'm here to say I'm alive and well and officially living in CALIFORNIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (not so special to those of you actually born here but please bare with me)- plus I'm doing a little 'drunk posting' thing here so...

Anyway, to make an extremely long story short, C.love and I now officially live in Santa Monica CA., and it's fucking awesome; sun, warm temps, sunny days, laid back vibe, excellent food, fresh veggies, blue sky, ocean breezes, sun, sun, sun... no rain in sight- I know it may sound a little shallow to say the most important issue in my life is weather but I can't stress it enough how important "weather" is to us. I can't 'think' in cold temps; can't see straight, can't speak properly, can't breathe, and can't move forward- literally and physically. Warm weather to me is like oil to the Tin Man - it wakes up my soul.

As some of you know, we have been dreaming about living here for some time now and trust me it was a HUGE process to make this dream become a reality but thankfully I'm here to tell you all that dreams actually can come true... with a little work. We've only been here for one month exactly, but it feels like we've lived a life time within those 30 days. On the down side I don't have any employment yet, we still have many boxes that are not unpacked, we had to rent a storage space for $80 a month because the apartments out here are on average 600 square feet for a 1 bedroom and we are have enough furniture for a 2000 square ft. place- and we are friendless. It sucks being friendless when you're used to having a blanket of friends to keep you warm for the past 20 years. I'm struggling with this one-

Anyway, I'm here and tonight since C.Love is out of town and my cat is sleeping so I thought It would be a perfect time time to connect with the blogging world- connect in a distant way I suppose. Good or bad, blogging world is like family and it's nice to be able to call on them when needed- these days familiarity is needed.

I do hope you are all well and I truly apologize for not "keeping up with you all" but life was calling me and blogging became more of a task than anything else. That's not how I choose to blog, for me it's a give and take and if I can't give then I won't take... but I will wonder.

I will fill in the details of this move (hopefully) as time goes on but in the meantime I'm here to tell you all to keep dreaming... Cheers to livin' life!

Just Checking...

My computer's fvudck,ed up again; I'm moving to Santa Monica in March; I think it should be against the law to have more than 3 kids because people can't have more than five cats; I miss blogging and the connections but I know some of you could care less; and I'm unemployed and loving it -

Other than that I'm selling my Barbies on Craigslist and it feels strange.

If you're out there, hello...

Lobster rolls and coleslaw

#2 Homemade Lobster Rolls and Coleslaw

Lobster and Lobster rolls are synonymous with the East Coast and we try to sit down and indulge in one or the other every time we go back there to visit the family. The last one I had was last winter at a seafood shack on the Maine Coast. The weather was cold and gray. I had my Bean Boots and winter hat on and there were Christmas trees and wreaths available for sale right outside the restaurant; it's not how I typically envision feasting on lobster rolls, but we do what we have to do in life to enjoy greatness and on that bitterly cold day in December we did just that.

This past summer we had the unexpected pleasure of receiving two live Lobsters via Fed Ex from C.Love's parents who were in Maine to my family on the Cape. They had told us to look out for them the day after we arrived because the little guys would need to be put on ice. After emerging from the basement on the morning of day two of our vacation I immediately informed my mom to not worry about dinner that night because I had it covered- we were having lobster. It didn't take us long to decide to make rolls with the two 1/4 lb lobsters since there were 4 of us for dinner and that meant not much meat to go around. We thought about buying two more and breaking out the crackers and picks but I was really looking forward to making my own lobster rolls instead. I've had lobsters at home many times before but I've never actually made a lobster roll.

The morning was a little overcast so C. Love and I decided to hop in the car and head up Rt. 6 to P-Town. We took some detours into Welfleet to check out some property before hitting Commercial Street but by the time we got down to the dunes the sky turned dark, the clouds opened up and the rain poured down so we only stopped for a quick drink and headed for home. The sun soon came out again and skies cleared as we pulled into The Box Lunch in Eastham for a quick sandwich. I called my mom to see if the lobsters had arrived and the answer was an astounding YES- with seaweed and all. Excellent! So exciting, I know it's not much but it's the simple things you know? Driving around Cape Cod with the sun shining waiting for lobsters to be delivered to my house... and my mom and dad hanging out waiting to receive them. It was mid July, I was on vacation and I was making my own damn lobster rolls! (life doesn't get much better) I wanted to round out the dinner with some homemade coleslaw and corn on the cob so the next stop was the grocery store to grab the wine, the rolls, the mayo and all the other necessary ingredients before heading home.

Around 4:00, my parents typically start to get a little restless for dinner and since I really wanted to enjoy my culinary experience to the fullest with these lobsters, I sat them both in the porch with some wine and appetizers before I went on a search for the lobster pot. I found the pot, C.Love and my own bottle of wine and hit the kitchen. It turned out to be a perfect afternoon/evening; we toasted the buns (the real "New England Style" hot dog buns- split on the top), I made the kick-ass coleslaw, Cooked the corn, and made the lobster mixture. I like my lobster rolls the way most Bostonians do: with just mayo and salt and pepper- that's it. Lobster meat is so tasty, I don't think you need anything else in there. With a little butter on that toasted bun you're good to go.

My coleslaw was amazing. Like lobster rolls, most people get coleslaw out at a restaurant where it's been sitting around for days or it taste all watery and weak. I've never made my own and now I always will. C. Love didn't even like coleslaw but after that night she completely changed her mind.

Homemade lobster rolls and coleslaw on Cape Cod in the middle of summer... definitely a highlight and one I won't forget anytime soon.

What I did this past summer- Top 5

#1. SEX IN MY PARENTS BASEMENT.

The prelude:

It all started in the restaurant; there was C. Love sitting next to me and my parents across from us. We had a glass a wine each out on the deck before dinner and then my dad ordered a bottle for my mom and C. Love and I to split once seating at our table. (not a big deal but C.love can get bombed after only a couple of glasses and my mom is 77 years old. Granted she's a sprightly healthy, 77 year old who drinks a glass a night but still... I figured I'd be drinking the whole thing my myself- boy was I wrong.) It was a hot and sticky July evening on Cape Cod, we were looking and feeling good and we were on our third night of vacation. We were both looking forward to a night out for some for delicious seafood and good wine- little did we know that the dinner was the spring board to a night of ecstasy. Yikes.

Dinner was ordered and the wine and conversation flowed effortlessly. Everything seemed quite G-rated when all of a sudden, as I took a huge bite of my stuffed shrimp, I happen to glance over at C. Love and was immediately, totally blown away by her intense, 100 percent sexual stare. A sex stare?! I'm thinking, shit, how long has she been staring at me and what the hell is going on!? My dad was sitting right across from her while my mom was talking to both of us- oblivious maybe, but still looking and speaking to us. C. Love's wet stares and sexy vibe continued throughout the dinner- she was thowing me major steamy looks right and left and made some serious moves under the table but continued talk to my dad and mom and keep them fully engaged. I did my best to keep the conversation flowing and of course her wine glass full at all times all while soaking it up- litterally and figuratively. Bottom line here: she pretty much performed optical sex on me while we ate our stuffed shrimp and baked haddock - right in front of my mom and dad. (If my dad didn't notice those glances I'd be surprised- he had only one beer and water the whole night.)

We managed to get through dinner and the vibe continued the whole car ride home but thankfully home was only a couple of streets away. I vaguely remember walking into the house with my parents, throwing our keys on the kitchen counter and immediately saying "well, thanks for dinner-love you, we're going to head down" (down meaning downstairs...) we were luckily spending the week in the mini apartment down stairs instead of the guest bedroom on the second floor. On a side note, we never get the basement because it's reserved for the families with kids but they weren't around this year-hip hip hooray.

The Event:

I don't really remember exactly what transpired as soon as we got down there but I can totally remember whatever happened occurred extremely quickly and lasted for quite awhile. I remember thinking to myself- thank god we're in this basement because there's no way this stuff is happening in that guest room off the kitchen- no way. Of course I can't give you any details but I trust you all to use your imagination on this one... sex is sex but when it's good it's really, really good-

I will admit that the wine, the fact that we had vacation head and being in the basement certainly added to the sexual stimulation factor but I'd also like to believe it was a simple case of being in lust and love with my girlfriend and having it all come together that made it 'a night to remember'... and a top five contender.

Cheers to summer sex.

same station, different vibe

School's back in session and so am I... I think. I've gone back to my original blog 'look', changed my focus and changed my direction. Stay tuned...

school's out- and so am I

Finally... and like we respond to all evites these days: it's a maybe. Eat, drink and be merry! Peace out...

sucker

Just for the record I don't eat fast food. Every once in a great while I will have the 'hangover' burger to ease the pain or I'll stop for some fries and a chicken sandwich on a road trip simply because I'm in the need of some protein, but basically I avoid the fast food frenzy and stick to good old fashioned turkey sandwiches when I'm out and about.

I'm sure you've seen the ads lately for that new Southern Chicken Sandwich at McDonald's, I sure have... I do like the chicken sandwich, the grilled, the breaded, the little nuggets- you know, they're tasty. So when this new thing came out I must say I was slightly intrigued. Southern Chicken Sandwich?, what does that mean- it's got gravy on it? I was confused, and still am. So today (and today only) McDonald's is offering a free Southern Chicken Sandwich when you purchase a drink. I'm actually thinking I may have to step or drive into a McDonald's today just to taste the thing! They're doing everything but delivering it to me- and to top it all off, the thing only has pickles on it! I love those pickles.

I'm doing it, I'm in...

safe sex

(I'm fully aware of how judgemental I am being with this post but I'm thinking they all look like this)

Definition: "A cuddle party is an event designed with the intention of allowing people to experience non-sexual group physical intimacy through cuddling. Cuddle parties are described by organizers as "workshop/social-events" that gives adults an opportunity to "give and receive welcomed affectionate touch in a no-expectation, friendly setting, according to your needs, desires, interests, and boundaries." Cuddle parties are described as non-sexual events but kissing may occur at some parties. It's a drug and alcohol-free way to meet fascinating people in a relaxing environment. A laboratory where you can experiment with what makes you feel safe and feel good."

OK, what the fuck is this. On my way home from work the other day they were talking about this on the radio and so I had to check it out for myself. It's for real, people actually do this thing. First of all, I don't know about any of you but I don't need a 'cuddle' party to experience non-sexual group intimacy. But now that I just said that, I'm thinking that if you are an actual sex addict or if you have a tendency to confuse sex with intimacy than this may just be the thing for you... All I'm saying is there is NO WAY on earth I would ever go to any one of these so called cuddle parties if invited. First of all, groups of people in their pajamas freak me out (unless they are 5 year olds) and second of all, I would never attend any gathering where 'non sexual' (but completely sexual) activity is going on without some alcohol! shit, what's the point of these parties? Third of all, groups of people in their flannel pajamas is actually the most unattractive situation I think I could be in. Plus there are "rules" and what kind of party has rules- know what I'm sayin?

Rule # 1 - Pajamas stay on the whole time. (how about the fuzzy slippers?)
Rule # 2 - You don't have to cuddle anyone at a Cuddle Party, ever. (What?)
Rule # 3 - You must ask permission and receive a verbal YES before you touch anyone. (Be as specific in your request as you can.) (like that's really happening-come on now)
Rule # 4 - If you're a Yes to a request, say YES. If you're a No, say NO. (duh)
Rule # 5 - If you're a Maybe, say NO. (I disagree-if you're a maybe, say yes)
Rule # 6 - You are encouraged to change your mind. (and get the hell out of there-fast)
Rule # 7 - Respect your relationship boundaries and communicate with your partner. (yeah, "like , could you move down a little more"?)
Rule # 8 - Come get the Cuddle Caddy or ME if there's a concern, problem, or should you feel unsafe or need assistance with anything today.
Rule # 9 - Tears and laughter are both welcome. (Oh, no)
Rule # 10 - Respect people's privacy when sharing about Cuddle Parties and do not gossip.
Rule #11 - Keep the Cuddle Space Tidy (Stuffed animals take up lots of room)
Rule #12 - Thank you for arriving on time. (that one's loaded...)

One question: If this is an organized event allowing adults to experience non-sexual group intimacy why the hell are they wearing pajamas?! Why not wear turtlenecks and sweatpants?kissing may be allowed at some of them?!?... I'm thinking people that host and join these events are just desperate individuals looking for a perverted way to get some sex. So I need to know if anyone out there is familiar with these things.

The only way you would get me to attend one of these is if the invitation read: Woman only intimacy wine and cheese party; pajamas optional; and no shoes allowed. That's it.

Horizontal with Felicity

O.k, I just have to say one more time that this show was THE best show on television and the fact that the subject of it has come up twice now within the last 4 days is kind of ironic so I just have to put it out there.

Last weekend I was staying at my friend's house in Atlanta and we had just gotten home from a night out when I flicked on her TV (it was in my room) and the show Felicity came on. It was strange because I thought I was turning on the actual cable but apparently I was just turning on the DVD player-whatever. (I never actually figured it out) I heard the opening theme song as I was fluffing my pillows getting ready to lay down and was immediately carried into that trance-like, lethargic state I remember so well. That was it, I was down for the count. I quickly became totally useless to anyone else for the rest of the evening because Felicity had me- hook, line and sinker. Luckily the cats seemed to accept my horizontal position and settled right in there in between my legs and by my side, oblivious to the fact that I wasn't even touching them. If I remember correctly, t2 was behind me typing away at her computer and kelly was blowing her nose in the other room (allergy season in Atlanta); all seemed right with the night.

The lighting of that show is what grabs me and then the dialog is what reels me in. It's similar to that feeling you get when you're in the middle of a euphoric 'act'... know what I mean?... you're still floating and swimming around but quite comfortable in your little place?. It's a settling spot/feeling and it all just mesmerizes me, so there I lay-on my futon with eyes glued to the screen waiting for what ever was to came next. I watched the pilot that night and I chose to watch it with the commentary on because his (J.J. Abrams) mind is so entertaining to me I dig listening to how he thinks. Felicity was a television series with heart and soul... and humor. I can't say enough good things about it and as much as I love Lost, when I first started watching that show I couldn't believe it was from the same master mind as Felicity- talk about feeling 'lost', that guy is intense to say the least. Unlike the unexplained, frustrating drama that occurs weekly on Lost, Felicity was all about reality-amazingly real, piercing reality. It was all about the stuff in between the lines and when someones able to create a series centered around what's not being said by actually saying it is my idea of a creative genius. There were no unexplained monsters in that dorm room.

Anyway, I like to just take a moment to celebrate some facts:#1- J.J. Abrams is still creating meaningful stuff, #2- Felicity is still alive and well in so many people's homes, #3- I had no idea that t2 liked the show and that just makes me feel connected to her on a totally separate level-which is cool. And talk about Felicity 'moments', the fact that I was actually in the home of someone I blog with almost daily and have only hooked up with in person only three times and there was someone in the next room I've only met twice- was pretty cool.

Angie was hanging across town that weekend at her own pad but at one point during the last day we were there, she was mentioning that it was too bad we couldn't have spent more time together (she chose to be busy with other things). When she said that, I was a little taken a back because the rest of us were having Felicity moments right and left all weekend long- just because we were sitting around doing absolutely nothing. Afunt made conscious decisions to not do 'nothing' with us but sometimes within the 'nothing' comes a whole lot of something. The something in this case was simply being present (physically) with each other (not physically, physically- come on now) you all know what I mean... and that's all we needed. I'm sorry she wasn't around more also, but such as life- and such as Felicity.

Know what I'm saying?

In lieu of the weekend- Cheers! I guess we know where the 19 year old shops...

My idea of good

I'm so tired of people telling me about movies they think are 'good' and then either renting them only to experience how much I think they suck or listening to them go on and on all the while saying to myself "what the hell are they talking about!, that movie sucked so bad I had to turn it off", but continuing to keep my mouth shut- just to be polite. Granted, there are way more movies out there that I think suck as opposed to rock but that's just me. Zoe's latest post was on a movie called Wristcutters: A Love Story and apparently she loved the thing but with the title alone I'm thinking it's not really a quality film... but maybe. After checking out the trailer I decided to let this one pass- but you be the judge and if you end up watching it, let Zoe know what you think.

Anyway, her post got me thinking about my own favorite movies and thought I'd share. For starters, the movie The Station Agent holds one of the top (If not the top) spots on my list and I recommend it all the time to people looking for a good flick. I actually only recommend it to certain people though, because of the slow pace of the movie tons of people would find it boring and I don't want to recommend it if I think they can't handle it. To me- those people are boring. If I ever had to do speed dating, this would be one of my questions- 1. Did they see it and 2. Did they like it. This would tell me a lot. (other speed dating questions are another post) I understand people like movies for very specific reasons and depending on what mood they are in when they watch it has a huge effect also but for me, The Station Agent is a movie I love because it's real- not real as in non-fictional but real as in authentic and 'quality'. I get a good feeling from watching it- not an angry feeling, a sad feeling, a violent feeling or a depressing feeling. It feels normal, it's cool as hell and it's definately in my top 5. Other movies are:

Good Will Hunting- it's a Boston flick and it's "awesome" for many reasons.

E.T.- It's a classic and a watching a little kids mind in action is hard to beat.

Swingers- Funny as hell

That's three for starters, there's more but I'm running out of time and gotta go- So anyway, go rent Wristcutters if you're into that or rent Station Agent if you want to spend time with space... Let me (and Zoe) know.

tears of joy

I cry. I'm not a "crier", but I do cry. I don't particularly like to cry because whenever it happens it always seems to get in the way of whatever else is going on at the time. For me, if I'm sad it just makes me sadder and if I'm happy (and crying) it just wrecks the mood because now I need to find a tissue and can't focus on the enjoyment anymore. My crying can occur under many different circumstances:I can easily cry during sad or inspirational movies and seeing children and animals of any kind in pain; I cry when my parents are in pain and I could totally break down if I sat with the thought of one of them going through life with out the other due to a death; I am able to cry from certain words, pictures, thoughts and television shows and I'm a total sucker for the 'underdog' and the person living in "rags" making it big. But I also always seem to cry, well my eyes tear up, whenever I crack up laughing and sometimes that laughter turns into a lump in my throat as if I really feel like crying- it's strange and the eyes completely fill up when I cut an onion, but there's no emotion attached to those tears. In other words it's just never convenient to shed the tears, so I don't jump at the opportunity, but as we all know sometimes the act is unavoidable.

I've learned as an adult that crying is a healthy thing and should not be held in- kind of like sneezing... so I do it when the the moment moves me. I actually cried many times this winter, not because it was the worst winter in like 15 years but because I was either frustrated as hell over something, in a fight with C. Love, still growing, or over the fact that my job was requiring me to work some Saturdays; hence I felt like my life was being taken away from me. It's been a pretty tough winter for many reasons both emotionally and spiritually. At times I chose to bury my self in 'sex and drugs and rock and roll' to sooth the pain but that relief is only temporary then it's time to face the truth... and the tears.

Today I went running for only the second time this winter (I choose not to run on ice and risk killing myself from traffic or dodge snowbanks and get frost bite) because today was 61 degrees. Just saying that is enough to make me cry on the inside. The fact that I haven't moved my body much more than to run up a flight or two of stairs for the last 3 months didn't make for an easy jog, but I managed to get myself down to the lake. As soon as I jumped off the wall and my feet hit the sand my eyes started to tear and I felt that feeling in my heart, head and throat- I made my way over to the rocks away from the babies, the dogs and the walkers and totally burst into tears. They were completely undeniable and obviously inconvenient. I guess they were tears of joy but what they felt like were tears of relief. A lot of my tears over the winter were because I couldn't breathe; today my tears were because I finally could. That warmth from the sun and the energy from the beach is all my soul needs for fuel and the fact that it was without them for the last 5 months was too much for me to take today. They were tears of joy but then sadness when I soon realized that was the (sad) truth.

And of course I didn't have any tissues on me.

A hard knock life

Yesterday at work I noticed a small Spiderman lunchbox sitting on a desk in the office and it seemed (and looked) really strange. I knew who the lunch box belonged to because it was on the desk of the 'new person' but instead of my saying out loud, " what the fuck is up with the lunch box? does she have a 7 year old son or what?", I calmly asked if there was a 7 year old little boy running around somewhere- and people looked at me like I was crazy, they didn't get my joke. There's never any 7 year old's running around our work place, the youngest is maybe 17 and they're doing everything except running around. But my question was more of a way for me to understand who the new woman in the building was without being rude. I needed some explanation for that Spiderman box because I'm sorry but you can't be a 27, 37 or 47 year old woman and bring one to work on your first day without an explanation-she seemed sane but you never know...

When adults carry or own (and use) little kid things like that it freaks me out. If it's a joke I kind of get it but still... leave it at home. Don't wear little pink or yellow t-shirts with rainbows or kittens on them and don't wear little colored barrettes in your hair as if you were four. Now don't get me wrong, I'd kill to have my Partridge Family lunch box back in my possession but if I did, you wouldn't find me filling it with my banana, my apple, my turkey sandwich, my oatmeal, or my little bag of chocolate chip cookies and bringing it to work... no way, that box stays home and comes out only to show off how well I took care of it. It would even be different if she happen to have maybe an old school Barbie lunch box or something classic but Spiderman?!

Anyway, from Spiderman the conversation turned into Little Orphan Annie. We were talking about the lunchboxes we had as kids and someone in the group had an Annie one. Now I've come to realize that If there's a woman in any room between the ages of 35 and 41 and the story of "Annie" comes up, nothing else and no other topic is going to take over that subject- at least for the next 10 minutes straight. People don't just seem to 'remember' "Annie"; they live, breath and worship her- and her little dog too. The way they talk about her borders on obsession but it's so strange because it happened so long ago and they talk about it as if they were just on stage with her. I can never figure out if it's Andrea McArdle, the actual story, the orphanage thing or the music that everyone was attracted to but it never fails: first comes the announcement "I loved Little Orphan Annie", then comes the singing "it's a hard knock life...", then more chatter about the sun coming out tomorrow. The infatuation and power around this thing amazes me. Sure, I remember Annie but because she had to have red hair and have the bad luck of being an orphan, and I too had red hair- I guess I chose not to pay too much attention to her. A red headed orphan... do all the odd ball characters have to have red hair? Come on now, Pippie, Annie, Hollie. It sucked for me because I was the only scrappy looking red headed kid on the block and in school and feeling quite special because of it and they had to go and make weird looking characters in the movies and comic strips have red hair just like me. It was rough.

I just realized this post has turned from talking about a grown woman carrying a lunch box to my childhood issues with being a red head. Lunch boxes, Little Orphan Annie, red hair and pigtails, infatuations and being a little kid... I'm not sure what it all means, but I'm glad I was a little red headed kid - even if it's taken me 1/2 my life to realize it.

Ahhh

I haven't had anything to drink for close to two weeks because of my horrific bronchial/flu-like/exhaustion state that I've been entrenched in. But yesterday with the snow flying, Easter weekend upon us and cancelled plans to head out (because of the fucking snow storm), I picked up a couple bottles along with dinner on the way home from work and man did it go down smoothly...




I sipped it slowly and methodically and I swear I could have drank it for the entire evening. It's good to be back...

Out of commission

I don't know what that last post was all about, I scare myself sometimes... butter? man, I am sick...

Anyway, for the last week or so I've been fighting a cold; I've been physically exhausted, feeling a little dazed and confused and walking around like I haven't slept in days- and I have. Last night I went to bed with a fever and a low, deep cough that was just waiting to explode. Needless to say I called in sick today and spent the entire day on the couch- with exploding cough, lots of tea (I hate tea), spoonfuls of raw honey and herbal cough medicine. My chest is burning, my cough is dry, my fever of 101 at 2:00 has broken and I'm back to a normal temp, but I still feel like I've been hit by a mac truck... and left out in the cold-in the rain. Damn, I've escaped getting sick all winter long! I was so proud of myself, feeling like some anti-germ fighting super hero or something. I guess even superheroes get knocked down every once in a while, but I don't like it.

So yesterday I high tailed it out of work at 4:00 so I could finish up a project I have been working on and that was going to be picked up on Thursday. The project was actually a very cool one but it took up every ounce of free time I have had for the past 2 months or so. I'll try to bottom line it here: Someone hired me to fill an ipod with 4-6 hours of music and then make a mixed CD from that music and burn 45 copies(one for each couple) with her evite logo on each CD. She's having a "meet and greet" party at a restaurant for her friends and neighbors and since she had zero knowledge of any adult music (she has 3 bratty rug rats), she needed some help. All she knew is that she wanted "cocktail" type music that people could talk over- nothing too depressing or too loud. No problem, I was all over it. I have enough music in my house and on my computer to take care of a 20 hour cocktail party. I accepted the challenge and immediately dove in. The problem, and it was a big one throughout the entire process, was this woman. She just wouldn't leave me alone at any point throughout to let me do my thing. She e-mailed every day, wanted certain things earlier than we discussed, couldn't commit on the fee, had horrible taste in music, and basically couldn't let it go. So for months not only have I been listening to and choosing particular songs for the party but also pacifying this woman through the entire process. After printing up and cutting 45 copies of the play list for the mix on Tuesday at work, I came home and slid each one into it's sleeve and I was done. I piled the CD'S on the coffee table and went into the dining room to get a box to keep them safe. Less than one second later, I hear a crash and run in to find that my cat has knocked over my glass of water and it was all over the coffee table FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I grabbed the pile of CD'S and went into the dining room to assess the damage. First of all, do you know how long it takes to burn 45 CDs, compose and print out the cover art and decide which 20 songs are making it to the "mix".?! I take music and this type of thing very, very seriously. I told her from day one that I was treating this as if it were my own party and she had absolutely nothing to worry about. I changed the play list many times and even went to the restaurant and listened to the ipod. Since it sounded horrible because of their speakers, I turned around and burned 5 CDS for her to put into the changer instead. Sound is of utmost importance to me. This thing took me forever!

Back to the accident: it turned out that every single CD that I had burned and put into a sleeve had to be taken out and sleeve tossed- each and every one was wet. At This point I still had two nights left if by any chance the play list needed to be re printed or (the worst of all) CD's needed to be re-burned. Icouldn't literally breathe because with every breath came a whopping cough- All this while chasing the cat around the dining room because she was now obsessed with what's on the table and kept jumping up on top of the laid out CD'S. I proceeded to take every single CD and play list out to lay out and let dry. The cat eventually got shut in a bedroom and C. Love went to Best Buy to buy some new sleeves. All this while my cough is getting progressively worse and I feel a fever coming on. We spent the next hour putting the CD'S in their new, dry sleeves and I put everything in the closet, shut the door, ate some dinner and went to bed.

Fast forward to Thursday at 1:23: I'm home sick again today and already called in for Friday. I've hit the Robitussin, can't stop sneezing and the woman comes over in 1/2 hour to pick up the fucking Cd's. I think I'll meet her outside so she doesn't have to come into the sick house. Man, what a way to end the winter. And on top of it all I wasn't even invited to the party... oh well. I'm done- good bye, I'm off for a nap as soon as she leaves.

Bad Butter

I know there are more important things in life to discuss: like breaking up with your love or 'hooking up with a hottie' or quitting your job or losing your cat or hitting a pot hole and screwing up your alignment but I gotta complain about the bad butter I bought at the store. It's tainting all of my food like a bad smell permeating the air. It looked a little funky when I opened it but I needed it so desperately that I choose to ignore- and I now I suffer.

On Sunday I was making C. Love a birthday dinner (birthday was Sat) which consisted of fillet with a white wine herb sauce, twice baked MASHED POTATOES, roasted asparagus, some warmed bread, and some profiteroles with chocolate sauce for dessert. I had only one quarter of a stick of butter left after I made the profiteroles and I still had the entire dinner to make- not good planning on my part. I definitely needed more than 1/4 of a stick for mashed potatoes, a rich wine sauce and bread, so I ventured into the living room and told C. Love about my problem. Being her wonderful self, she offered to go to the convenient store for me and pick up a stick- great, but when she said "convenient store" I kind of froze in my tracks. I kind of think that if you're not a snack food, a newspaper, a cigarette, a soda, a Gatorade or maybe a box of tissues- you're never leaving that convenient store- I swear some of that food on those shelves has been there for years.

Anyway, to make a long story somewhat shorter, the butter C. Love bought that night was indeed bad... very bad. It looked odd to me on Saturday night but I let it slide. It smelled odd and it tasted a little funky in my mashed potatoes, but again- I let it slide. But tonight when I made Pasta Primavera it smelled and tasted bad again- that was it. Damn, a whole pound of butter and I had to throw it away. I looked at the date as I tossed it in the garbage. It said: Best if purchased by Jan 2008. Just as I suspected, don't ever buy butter in a convenient store- stick to the candy bars.

Trust me, I have many more important things to be discussing here but for some odd reason the butter thing got to me... So it leads me to this question: what are you putting on your toast- real butter or the fake stuff? (I bet the fake stuff never goes bad)

Inside out

It's like I can definitely see it. I can feel it, hear it, experience it and sometimes taste it but I just can't seem to touch it- physically touch it. Not that anyone can actually physically touch any part of it, it's just that being in it's presence and interacting with it feels like touching it-kind of. I'm talking about blogging. I literally haven't had the time ti sit down a compose a post let alone venture out and make some visits to just say hello.

It feels like for the past month I've been stuck in a snowbank. Sure, I come out every day and do my thing but I always go right back every night and huddle up next to the warm interior with ice cold walls. Thankfully people bring me red wine and laughs and I'm able to loose myself in the idealism of American Idol and the headiness of Lost, but this winter thing is getting old. I can see the sun but it's so deceiving because it has zero warmth and it always goes away way too soon. I do venture out of the snow bank quite often but all I hear is other people talking about how much their snow bank sucks or how they've abandoned their snow banks for sand dunes. Fuck them- But...after it's all said and done, I've kind of -strangely- enjoyed my little snow hut this year. I've gotten tons of mail and people bring me cool projects. It has some great air, tons of space to exercise my mind, it's an awesome place to do some 'planting', it frees me up from any outside obligations and complications, it's loaded with great food and wine and it seems to be a very good shelter from all the elements... if you know what I mean. Hibernation is good, I get it now.

The problem is that life outside the snow bank feels so far away; it's right outside my door but for some reason whenever I try to get to it something happens. There's either a blizzard, a wind storm, wild animals or another phone call to bring me back inside. Life in the snow bank is good but I miss real life. I miss the grass, the blue ski, the warmth of the sun, the back and forth nonsense talk from the blogging world, the friendly hello's from strangers, the smiles on every one's face and the ease of life. There's so much to do in my snow bank and it's all good but I'm ready to get out. Starbucks closed their doors for three hours the other day to train their employees. I'd like to open my windows for more than one second to re-train my body to breathe the good air.

I stopped over at t2's place for a second the other day and she was mentioning how long the month of February felt. She's absolutely right, in the dead of winter time seems to stop. That last month felt like eternity. Today is that funky extra day in February. Great, one more day...

winter storm warning #56

Ok, I know I am obsessed with the weather and can't stop complaining about this winter; it's been pretty rough here in Chicago so far with the fridgid temps and pesky snowstorms but this is fucking rediculous! I really wanted to go out tonight. I actually have cabin fever for the first time in my life and was looking forward to tonight- that's a huge deal, believe me. We had plans to head to a cool restaurant for cocktails with awesome food to meet up with a bunch of women (lesbos) for a professional networking thing. I rarely want to go out let alone socialize with a bunch of strangers but lately that's kind of all I want to do-it's strange. I'm all over the events with free apps, especially if they're good ones! Fuck, this sucks.

A couple of weeks ago we were invited to a cocktail party with free appetizers and FREE WINE, (that's right folks I said FREE WINE -for two solid hrs) at a new restaurant. We were at dinner there the week prior and we were approached by the marketing woman. She took our e-mails and said they had some private events coming up if we wanted to go. Hell yea! count me in for sure. That particular night was the bomb, with excellent food and endless bottles of wine from 7-9. My glass was never 1/2 empty and to make the evening even better, the woman walking around with the bottles (one in each hand) were hot- thank god the restaurant chose the good-looking ladies to work the room. Smart. One of them looked like Lindsay Lohan, back when the woman looked good. Anyway, that night it was also snowing and we almost backed out. Thank god we didn't...

It completely sucks when it snows but lately it's been snowing on every night we have plans! Most of the time we clear off the car and go but I always feel like I can't drink as much (if at all) and it's nerve racking getting home. Tonight we planned on going out up until the very last moment. Since I was driving and we had to pick up two other people and it had been snowing since 10 am and not expected to stop until tomorrow, I made the executive decision to not go. I'm glad we're not going, now we can watch Lost and drink where we are safe. It still sucks though and to make myself feel better I will continue to complain. It's an excellent subject to complain about. I'm off to get some vino. Cheers.

frost bite with a twist

I'm all for going out to a cool bar for a cocktail or two but come on now, these type of places are absolutely ridiculous.

I was thinking about them as I sit here in the warmth of my home with my new found honkin bottle of red vino and a soft comfy couch. I think at noon today it was 2 degrees... 2.... When I ran into the bookstore from my parking spot my snot literally froze upon dripping. Now that's just totally wrong. I think the windchill tomorrow is supposed to feel like it's negative 20. NEGATIVE 20! yikes.

I want to know who the hell actually chooses to go to bars like these and why, and what's with the blanket on that ice couch- like that works? When I'm so cold I can't think, let alone open my mouth wide enough to get an alcoholic beverage down there. And to drink with mittens on?! These people scare me. Just please give me the Beachcomer in August. Actually, just give me some red wine and a warm body.

Januray woes

Just a few random thoughts and observances I've noticed since the beginning of January

1. Women are never going to rule the world if lesbians can't get off the couch
2. The week after New Years has to be the worst week in the year
3. How can people think that 63 degrees in January in Chicago has absolutely nothing to with Global Warming
4. I wonder what would happen if i pods only came in only one color
5. How can someone who looks so gay claim they are straight?
6. Jeans with cuffs that are 6-8 inches on a suburban preppy woman with horrible shoes? That's high fashion?
7. Why isn't the Super Nanny all over that (Britany) Spears family?
8. Diet, exercise and New Years resolutions- don't bother.
9. Why the fuck aren't tampons free for women.
10. Why will some lesbians only choose to "go out" once a year to watch the factitious women of The L Word when they could have a cocktail and conversation with some 'real' ones the other 364 days. Again, that brings me back to #1... and I don't want to hear that you are "an old married couple", "a homebody", "just not looking" or "too tired". If you're dead that's ok but again... refer to #1 and get your ass out there.

I hope February is brighter-

all pooped out

Warning, if you have bathroom/feces issues don't read on


OK, this is a disgusting horrible story but it's kind of funny too so here goes: To make a long story somewhat shorter we'll fast forward to last Thursday evening around 5 pm. We were driving back to Chicago from Boston and had made it to our hotel in Youngstown Ohio (10 hrs into the trip). After checking in and checking the cleanliness of the room we decided it was OK to stay so we put our bags down and continued on. I had to go to the bathroom for awhile but since I have an issue with germs and dirt and grime I made the decision to hold off until we got to our hotel where I would at least have some privacy. Since I didn't have time to thoroughly inspect the toilet, I placed toilet paper on the seat... just in case. I did what I had to do in there, came out and checked out the quality of the TV; C. love then went in the bathroom to pee. After all the peeing and pooping was done we headed out into town to get a bite to eat.

Two hours later: We walk back into the room and since I didn't want to use the restaurant's bathroom to pee, I went back into our bathroom to do just that. When I got in I noticed something in the toilet (I'm not going to spell out exactly what) and not thinking anything further I immediately flushed, but something told me that wasn't my poop in there and then proceeded to pee. A second after that I stormed out of the room and said to C. Love "you used the bathroom after me, right?" "yes" she said with confusion. " I mean you flushed, right?", "yes" she said again. ( now I'm starting to freak a little) "you mean you went in, just peed and flushed. "Yes, that's what I'm saying!" (she's getting angry now because I'm not explaining myself) "And there was nothing in the toilet when you went in?" She proceeded to explain how she knew there was only pee in the toilet after she peed because she was noticing the color of it. ( we take note of things like this regularly)


OK, at this point I'm completely stumped, totally confused and a little bit grossed out at what I'm thinking because what I'm imagining is either number 1: my poop came back up after two flushes which is totally bizarro and very unlikely or #2: someone else's poop came up through the pipes, which is totally disgusting, totally wrong and totally bizarro as well or #3: someone entered our room while we were out and used our bathroom, which is totally horrifying, completely disgusting, completely wrong, and completely unbelievable. But out of the three, in the moment, we chose to think it was either #1, or #2- even though we both knew it probably wasn't. Now I spent the next 5 minutes trying to think back to what my poop looked like... just in case it was scenario# 1- strange things can happen with plumbing, right? After going through all the possible explanations and accepting that maybe someone possibly came in and used the bathroom we checked our luggage, and belongings and then both did our best to just let it go and we hit the bed.


The next morning we went to fill up the tank for the next 7 hours home but our card was 'declined'. Not putting two and two together (the unknown person entering our room and a declined credit card and the fact that C. love had left her wallet in the room) we proceeded to call the credit card company and they told us it was probably just the station itself that had the problem. It wasn't until we got back into our home in Chicago, heard the messages from the fraud people, unpacked, played with the cat, went to the store and then talked to the fraud people that we were told that someone has been making charges on our card and the fraud people caught it. Then we froze and realized the same guy (or girl) who came into our room and relieved themselves in our bathroom could have also stolen the credit card number. We freaked out; I was completely grossed out and we both felt totally violated. Nothing was stolen from C. love's wallet and it could have been two totally separate instances but it's kind of coincidental- don't you think?


So fine, someone has stolen our credit card # and used it. And fine, someone entered our hotel room when we were out, pooped in our toilet and didn't flush. Whatever... we will get the money back, I still feel really dirty, and I'm extremely angry that both those things happened but whether they happened within the same night and by the same person or not- it still sucks. FUCK! what the hell?! here I am thinking that whoever came into our room was either 1.- mentally ill and just does this kind of thing or 2.- an employee who regularly does this kind of thing: goes into someones room, poops, and steals credit card numbers (or the other way around). What the fuck, is that like his "sign"? his poop?!


The whole situation is totally strange but in way very, very funny. And I'm glad I can laugh at it now, even though I feel like I still need to take 10 showers a day to cleanse myself of the bad guy in our bathroom. We think it was an isolated case, our identities are in check and from now on we leave the television on and "do not disturb sign" on the door whenever we leave our hotel room. What a way to end the year

baby, it's cold outside

I'm feeling a bit of a draft these days and it's not necessarily because of the frigid temps outside -or maybe it is, I'm not quite sure. That's OK- Christmas time has a way of affecting different people in many funky ways. Most people are walking around in circles totally stressed out from all the mayhem or... depressed but I'm good because I'm just kind of sitting back under my tree watching the season go by.

Lately I've felt like I've been wrapped in blurry Christmas lights. Work has been crazy busy, so my long days have blended into even longer nights filled with too much red wine and mellow Christmas music but tis the season I guess, it's what I gotta do- Just chillin', literally watching the snow fall. Johnny Mathis and Nat King Cole have completely invaded my stereo system and gingerbread and truffles have happily replaced beer and pretzels. On the down side I've had way too much snow to shovel, windshields to scrape, parties to attend, cards to mail and people to call/e-mail and winter is in full force around here. I'm freezing, it always seems like it's dark outside and I'm tired as hell. But at the end of the day I always find a way to manage to relax-drink and eat and sleep like a baby. If the cards didn't get sent, people didn't get called and chores ignored it's all good because when you're walking around in a haze of Christmas lights nothing really matters.

The other day I was lying on my couch thinking about how my Dad used to make an awesome holiday Champagne punch for our "open house", Christmas Eve party every year. For some reason I just loved watching him make it; bottles of this, bottles of that, orange slices and a huge,cool chunk of ice in the middle of it. The punch was a hit and there was never any left at the end of the night. The deviled eggs were always wiped out too. Right now I'm staring at my mantle with all those photos of babies and children and families and I'm wondering if I would do the same if I had kids- I think not actually. I like cards, real cards.

On Saturday morning we fly out to Boston and then drive up to Maine. We'll stay in Maine until Christmas morning, and then drive back to Boston in time for Christmas dinner. We head back to Chicago 2 days after that and settle in for the end of the year. There will be no holiday punch or open house parties, but there will be lobster rolls, little kids, Christmas cheer, lots of love and probably snow- (I could do without the snow)

Merry Christmas to all- I hope the magic finds you.

Down for the count

I got hit with a 'cold'. It's funny because I work with a lot of people who are constantly sick and our environment is like a friggin' petrie dish, all hot and moist and disgusting. There's little air, a lot of dust and mold and a lot of people spreading their germs around. I'm usually able to fend off any potential threat by washing my hands constantly, walking in the opposite direction when someone sneezes, and I drink plenty of water but for some reason my defenses decided to take a baby time out. Bottom line here is I rarely get sick, actually I think the last time I got sick was exactly one year ago -that's weird. Anyway a couple of months ago I managed to avoid getting sick even when C.love was blowing and sneezing and coughing and dripping all over the place- I'm not surprised I got hit this time around, I mean I've been feeling like I need a break so I probably just allowed myself to give in. Maybe I'll call in sick tomorrow too, who knows.

Today all I did was get the cats nails trimmed, get my own hair trimmed, watch the food network, eat a grilled cheese sandwich and thought about things I would put on my 'wish list', just as t2 did. I was also trying to catch up on some blogs, since I've pretty much disengaged myself from the whole blogging process lately. I just haven't had the desire to hear about anyone elses life, or indulge their narcissistic tendencies; after all isn't that really why we all fucking blog? I've focused on a couple of things over the past month or so about blogging that have turned me off (or in the case of #1-on:

1. I'm strangely drawn to someones blog if I find out from a photo they are damn good-looking

2. I immediately get off someones blog when the post goes on and on and on and on... Sometimes I'll just scroll down to the last sentence to find out what the hell they're talking about.

3. I'm rarely interested in reading about a straight woman's world- it's usually boring as hell

4. I love when people comment back to every comment left on their post. It's like saying "thank you"

5. (this one I've hated from the beginning) When people write a post, ask questions and then don't respond to any answers- they just move on to another post.

6. I miss my creativity- I seem to have lost it in the wind over the years

So as far as my so called wish list goes for this year I've realized Amazon doesn't actually sell everything under the sun- go figure. I mean you can't but jeep wranglers there, or real estate or puppies or huge kitchens with wood burning fireplaces or more intuition or olive oil- know what I'm saying? I want an unlimited supply of wine, beer and olive oil for Christmas and I'm thinking they don't have that at amazon.com. I want cash to buy whatever the hell I want and I want to know where I'm going to be living in a year from now. I want to perfect my cooking skills, hook up with someone else and cook like crazy for other people and I want my own beach house to kick back in.

I actually like being home sick, I can just sit and think-without pressure. Random thoughts float in and float out. C.Love just walked in with the mail and I got something I wanted and have been waiting for, my t-shirt from Cisco Brewers-they rock. I'll take some of their beer for Christmas, or how about a weekend trip over there to drink it on the premises, now that would be a good gift...