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I really want to see this, alas, I don't live in New York.
I also want to see this. I am already harassing my boss to get it at work.
It would appear my uterus is A WEAPON AGAINST SATAN. It is also, apparently, a hospitality room - does that mean there's a bar in there? Who knew!
genius! check out my latest blog crush: Give, Get, Take, and Have
The BBQ was a delight, Miss Lisa is a wonderful hostess and quite the grillmaster. I ate until it literally hurt, and even then I *wanted* to eat more...as I said to Miss Sarah, as I ate that last bite of chicken breast "I may be about to become that guy in Monty Python's Meaning of Life, you might want to step back" or something like that...I was in a food stupor, what I said could well have been interpreted as little more than my take on the mating call of a sea lion, or a Walrus, or some other large mammal, prone to laying around like a big fat slug and emitting the occasional rather threatening gurgling noise...I won't lie, I was already thinking about taking out the guy in the Cubs hat for the last italian sausage, so my mind wasn't exactly in the moment...unlike right now, when I am *clearly* well within my senses and getting right to the point. So yay Miss Lisa. It would appear my cheeseball was also rather well received, so yay me too.
After the BBQ Miss Sarah and I went to L&L, where we talked of many things, one of which was this hideous demitasse coffee service I have. This was given to me when I was about 7 years old, by Mrs G. She was the wife of Mr G., one of my dad's co-workers when we lived in Jeddah. Mrs G was a really cool lady, she had a chihuahua named Bobbi, wore her hair in a big dyed black bouffante, and wore a ton of makeup, even in the middle eastern summer heat (which is a mother FUCKER, btw - I just thank god I lived there as a wee small child and never had to deal with it as a person who gave a flying rats ass if they smell like a portal to hell) she had grandkids back in Texas, and I think adopted me as her surrogate grandchild, which was cool with me, I loved hanging out at their house, I thought it was all so ELEGANT! Bobbi had a gold and rhindstone collar, and their cutlery was GOLD! and one of those giant hookas you could get for a song at the souk, which in retrospect was made of brass most likely, but I was certain it was GOLD! Add to that, like me, Mrs G. was a Donny and Marie fan, and had her daughter back home regularly sent betamax tapes of all the new episodes of the Donny and Marie show. Anyway, Mrs G. had this coffee set, which I thought was just SO INCREDIBLY BEAUTIFUL AND POSH, that she gave it to me. Until tonight the last time I saw it was shortly before we moved from England, in June or July of 1980 (meaning thanks to the packing materials, I now have newspapers older than the last guy who tried to chat me up on myspace). A few years ago, when my dad was embroiled in one of his "bloody hell why is there so much shit in this house???" attic cleaning binges, he came across it and promply shipped it to me, and aside from unwrapping one cup, and seeing what it was, it has remained, in a box under my bed since...When discussing it with Miss Sarah, I had said perhaps I would throw it up on Ebay, since there are countless people out there with astonishingly bad taste and perhaps I could get a few bucks for it...but then I was unwrapping it, and somehow the newspapers it was wrapped in smelled like my house in england, and looking at the set I became a little spazzy, and got to thinking about Mrs G, and how I know I'll never see her again (she was older than my mum by a good 10 or so years (I should note she married at 16 and was a grandma by her mid 30's), which would mean if she is still even alive, she's reeeeallly old) and what a nice lady she was and suddenly there was just no way I could part with it...hopefully all of this foolishness will pass next week when I am no longer in the evil clutches of the dreaded girl crazies...
I'm feeling reckless, I'm not gonna spell check this. I'm bad - that's how I roll.*
*that was just for you, Miss Sarah
I'll say right off the bat that I'm not expecting a Yes answer to this from anyone, but does anyone have the J. Geils band "Freezeframe" album on CD? I woke up today with "Angel In Blue" stuck in my head....I absolutely love this album (and yes I'm aware that this might not be something I should be proud of), and I haven't heard it since Mr. Chris' turntable went tits up when we lived together. I have it on vinyl, you see...if anyone can help me I will totally be their best friend forever (yeah that's right - BFF!)
This afternoon I am attending a BBQ at the home of the lovely Miss Lisa. Miss Sarah described the menu to me, and it sounds as if our hostess is quite the chef...As my contribution, I will be a making a cheese ball... because you can't be all classy all the time...Despite the inherrent white trashiness of my cheese ball, I CHALLENGE you to look me in the eye and tell me it's NOT a little piece of heaven, fashioned into a spreadable heart attack, and served on a Ritz.
Miss Lis: This is you?
Doe Eyed 19 year old: Yeah!
ML: Do you have another ID?
DENYO: no
ML:You really expect me to believe you're 31 years old?
DENYO: I am!
ML: Sweetheart this doesn't even look like you
DENYO: (starting to adopt a pleading tone) but it is me!
ML: (turns to matt, shows him ID) You think that's her?
Matt: pffft! NO!
DENYO: Okay, okay, that's not me, I didn't know I had to have an id to get in, and so I borrowed one, I'm sorry, can't you just let me in? please??
ML: First of all, you need an ID to come in, second, it has to be YOUR ID. And in case you didn't know - it's ILLEGAL to use someone elses ID.
DENYO: Okay, I'm sorry I didn't know, can't I please just go in?
ML: No.
Several minutes of begging ensues, my boss passes by, I show him the ID, which he confiscates, and she is duly seen off.
An hour later:
DENYO: (jacket zipped up, hair slightly different) Hi, I lost my ID when I got a ticket - I have the ticket and a picture ID
ML: Didn't I tell you an hour ago you couldn't come in?
DENYO:No!
ML: Yes I did, do you really think I'm that stupid?
DENYO: Okay, okay, You did. but look, I have my ticket and a picture ID!
ML: Well, that would have worked if you'd had that the first time you came here, but then you tried to use someone elses ID to get in, which as I mentioned before is ILLEGAL...
DENYO: But I didn't know!
ML:What part of using someone elses ID seems legal to you?
DENYO: Look, I'm sorry! pleasse can't I just come in?
ML: Step out of the line
DENYO: (practically crying) Please! Please can't I come in? I'm sorry
ML: If you step out of the line now I won't invite that police officer over there to come over and explain to him what you did.
DENYO:....
Repeat several variations of this scenario (although she was the only one ballsy enough to come back) add a dozen or so pot smokers being thrown out, one near girl fight, and there you have the Fat Joe show.
Went out a short while ago to get coffee at Dunkins, and as I passed by the school around the corner they were doing some landscaping and cutting the grass. I love the smell of freshly cut grass, it reminds me of summers at my Grandma's house, so I inhaled deeply. Then my head exploded, and I was caught in a maelstrom of sneezing, coughing, and snot.*
I don't mean to keep carping on this allergy business, I *know* a lot of people have gotten them a lot worse for a lot longer than I have, and it's not like I have something REALLY unfortunate, like food allergies, where if I eat a peanut I'll die, but that doesn't make it any less annoying, and I don't currently have health insurance, so it's all over the counter remedies for me, and so far I have yet to find that perfect balance of alleviating my symptoms, and at the same time not putting me in a coma or making my nasal passages feel as if I've been mummified....any suggestions would be appreciated.
*you've never wanted me more than you do right now, I know, I know....
Just in time too - I'm about done with the other two.
Beyond that - many thanks to Ubermilf - because I don't wake up screaming quite enough.
Sunday night at L&L, the bartender was trying to remember the name of "this Irish surfing movie" they all watched one night as they drank into the wee hours after the bar closed..."Blue Juice?" I said "YES! Yes that's it!" he replied with glee. I then explained that it's an English movie and how much I love it despite the fact it's trash. He loved the movie so much that he created a drink for it...the Blue Juice, much like a Long Island, with all the clear liquors and blue curraco for colour. it's tasty, like a blue ice pop.
As I have mentioned on repeated occasions, I have an unnatural affection for this movie, so it was nice to finally find someone else who likes it...even if it's not for the same Ewan McGregor/Sean Pertwee/Cornish coastline reasons that I do (actually I couldn't even tell you *why* he likes this movie, but boy howdy did he)
Some time last week I got a cab home, and the cabbie remarked that the neighborhood we were in had a lot of gays. Hardly surprising, given its proximity to Boystown, and the fact that he picked me up down the block from Berlin. The peculiar thing was, he then asked me to explain homosexuals to him, why do they choose to do that? they're born that way? really? wait, there are women who are gay too?? He then told me that where he comes from (India) they don't have homosexuals.
A couple of nights ago, I snag a cab to go home, and as he is pulling out, he remarks "How unusual" I just thought he was talking about the 6ft6 plus trannie he almost mowed down as she skittered across the path of his cab, on her perspex heels, whilst adjusting her somewhat strained tube top...but then he turned to me, and said "remember? I drop you off the other night". It was the same cabbie. In all my years in Chicago, I've never gotten a repeat cabbie. On this ride we talked about how my night was, and where, in my opinion, the prettiest girls in America reside...I was tempted to respond "well, those east coast girls are hip, I really dig those styles they wear..." but instead just said it depended entirely on where your tastes lie, and really, the big cities are such an amalgamation of people from so many different places, it would be tough to call...then he asked me if I had a boyfriend, I lied and said yes. He stopped talking to me after that.
On Thursday night at work we have a Fat Joe Two dollar bill show, courtesy of MTV2. I'm not particularly looking forward to the show...in addition to the fact that I'm not a fan, the fact that some of his fans, who camped out to get tickets, upon hearing that the show sold out in 5 minutes and they would NOT be getting a ticket, accused the guy in the box office of being racist and "trying to keep the niggers out of your neighborhood" and then closed with charming little sentiments like "we'll be back white boy, *pop pop*" with accompanying finger pulling the trigger gestures. Lovely. Fortunately, outside security (the lucky people who take the tickets and do the pat downs and searches) has been doubled for the show, and they will be equipped with metal detector wands....still tho, I'd rather just skip it...
In other news, most of the scabs have fallen off my tattoo and my back no longer feels like I have an oatmeal cookie stuck to it. It's itching like a motherfucker tho....
