You are currently browsing the monthly archive for May 2009.
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This little lady has been flitting around our yard for a couple of weeks now.
A few days ago, S. went out to try to get photos of her and watched, astonished, as she landed in a teeny little nest in our chinaberry tree. It’s hard to tell from the photos, but the nest is about the size of a demitasse cup. Look closely and you’ll see the little mama on her nest…
…and here’s a closer view. I only wish we could see into the nest – I can’t even imagine how small the eggs must be. And I hope they wait until after this weekend to hatch, so I can see the babies.
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My fabulous trip to the nether regions of New York state is coming up this weekend. Am I ready? No. I have done all my research on the area and actually managed to get out of the house this morning to buy some needed sundries, but that’s about it. Not packed, no idea what the weather is going to be like, etc. I guess I need to devote some time to that between now and 6am Friday morning.
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S. made a lovely dinner last night and surprised me with a large piece of German chocolate cake which he had decorated just for me. Yesterday was our engage-o-versary and as some of you may recall, he slipped the engagement ring into a piece of cake. (I still marvel that I did not eat that ring, btw.) Anyhow, yummy food and another reminder that S. is, hands down, the winner in the romantic sweepstakes in our relationship. Thanks, honey!
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Not much else to report. Did I mention I have a lot to do? I do. ‘Bye.
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Over the weekend, I received this very special book from my dear friend CLAUDIA.
Naturally, I am reading it slowly so as to fully comprehend and savor each and every word. I have learned a few things, however, that I would like to share with you.
1. Kathie Lee Gifford, nee Epstein, was the Bryant family’s babysitter and Anita’s personal assistant. They met on a trip to Israel. This somehow explains a lot to me about Kathie Lee Gifford.
2. The Bryant family had their own altar in their living room where, I imagine, the whole family prayed for the salvation of the homosexuals.
3. Anita Bryant was (and I imagine still is) batshit crazy.
The book purports to be a manual for Christian marriage but all that really boils down to in Anita’s world is obey your man. And sadly, I guess she didn’t follow her own rules too well because she and her husband divorced shortly after this book was published.
I think the best lesson to be learned from Anita Bryant is that what goes around, comes around. After her years of disgusting, hateful anti-gay propagandizing, she went broke and is living in Oklahoma. And, according to several web references, one of her sons is gay.
As the great sage Nelson Muntz would say…HA-HA.
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Had a great weekend with friend A. – highlights included eating too much, drinking even more and generally goofing off.
On Saturday, we stopped by SUGAR MAMA’S to get some bday cupcakes for A. and as we were getting back into the car, a woman came out carrying four boxes. She was having trouble getting her car door open so S. and A. offered to help her. Her reply was a dismissive, “Oh no thanks, I’m a personal assistant, I’m used to this.” I didn’t hear this and more’s the pity because you know I would have engaged her in a pseudo-interested conversation just to get more stupid words out of her for you, my adoring public. Enjoy your menial labor – er…”career” – cupcake-toter!
Later, A. and S. and I were in a thrift store when someone I dubbed the “Zombie Asian Combover Guy” started shadowing A. I thought maybe he was going to try to lift his wallet or something but it seemed that he had adopted A. as his personal shopper and was swooping in and grabbing anything A. looked at but didn’t pull off the rack. He would then take said items to a mirror at the end of the rack, strip down to his skivvies, try the clothes on, then re-dress in his own clothes and start following A. again. Very bizarre. It started raining while we were in the store, prompting the cross-dressing sales clerk to announce in his/her best Peggy Hill voice, “Attention Thriftland Shoppers. It is raining outside. Perhaps you should go out and roll up your car windows. Thank you.”
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“I will not tolerate sightseeing under any circumstance.” But I will use the fact that the UT Tower Sniper’s mom LIVED AND WAS KILLED HERE by him as a “selling point”. Good luck with all that, idiot.
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Do you ever read the “Free” ads on Craigslist? I hadn’t until S. began bombarding me with links this weekend. Instead of making you click through to a bunch of links, I have garnered a few of the best for you here:
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And finally, I got summoned for jury duty. On the summons is a long list of things that will disqualify one from serving on a jury in Travis County. I plan to check the boxes next to “I cannot read or write” AND “I am not of sound mind or good moral character”. I’m going to post a link to this blog as proof of both and I expect you people to back me up. Tally ho.
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I’ve never actually participated in this and clearly I suck at it, but thanks Freida. I hereby tag the lovely Miss Claudia. If you weren’t tagged and want to participate, here’s the deal:”Here’s what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don’t know how realistic it is, but that’s what I’m aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.
If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it’s okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that’s five interesting threads the story spins off into.
Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours.”
The ground crunched beneath my feet. Besides my noisy footsteps, I heard only the sound of the gentle crackling fire behind me. Its faint orange light lazily revealed my immediate surroundings. Beyond the glow, there was total blackness. I whistled. I took the small rock I had been carrying and whipped it away from me, expecting a thud, crack or plop — but a soft yelp of a cry answered. (Splotchy)
“Crap! I forgot all about Monster,” I realized. “I must be drunker than I thought,” I spoke aloud to no one in particular, though an owl answered my drunken slur. Ever since my neighbors have been giving me grief for the way Monster chases their cats and poops in their lawn, I haven’t felt comfortable staying in my house. I’m pretty sure my landlady is thinking about evicting me, so I’ve decided to lay low for a while.
To the surprise of no one… (Freida Bee)
The night turned darker. A storm blew in. It was, in fact, a dark and stormy night. Too drunk to worry about Monster’s rock-inflicted head wound, I stumbled back to the campfire, where I found the ghosts of John Fante and Charles Bukowski roasting hot dogs, drinking whiskey and singing sad songs about women. The ghost of Fante whispered in my ear, tales of love and loss, and his soothing voice drew me slowly away from the fire and down the trail to the river, where I suddenly found myself…(Lass)
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Yesterday evening, S. and I were getting into his truck to meet some friends for dinner when suddenly the crazy neighbor lady’s door flew open and she stood there, glaring at us and calling us names. We are, and I quote “Pieces of shit” and “Motherfucking assholes”. I guess for expecting her to be a responsible dog owner. Go figure. Anyhow, I am going to place a call to the police if for no other reason than to establish a pattern of harassment from her, and just in case she is both batshit and packing heat. (Something I am joking about here but worries me – she seems to be going further and further off the deep end.) I am currently working on garnering that bit of information. Not sure what we’ll do if we find out she has a gun permit, but it’s good info. to have, at this point. So yeah, if I suddenly disappear, it’s been nice knowing you, internet.
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So let’s see…what else…nothing. I have a bunch of stuff to do this morning and then we have a fun weekend of company so off I go. Happy end of week to you.
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Would it surprise any of you to know that I had nightmares about finding dogs on the side of the road last night? Or that it ended with me wading into a swamp to save a dog and then having my legs chewed off by an alligator? Good times. I also had some weird borderline sleepwalking incident during which I thought I heard a knock at the door. But really, I am JUST.FINE.
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I’m working on a little essay about introversion which I will be sharing here in a week or so. I recently had cause to read a very good book on the subject and it provided a much-needed reminder to me that I really don’t have to try to fit in with people. So take that, world. Anyhow, I will post it when it’s done.
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Let’s see, what else…a friend of mine recently sent me a ton of mochi balls for which I am both grateful and sorry. Have you ever had these things?
They are pillowy, semi-gelatinous rice balls filled with fruit. Oh my god. She also included some that are filled with a Nut3ll@-like chocolate. I am having some for breakfast right now. This is the same friend who addicted me to ISO PEANUTS last year. Be careful who you befriend on the internet, people. They will send you delicious, exotic foods. Or, if “they” are me, CREEPY MONKEYS. But, I digress…
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I guess that’s it. Other than to tell you that I am ready for this strange week to be over.
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Your top investment guy is nuts. He spent over an hour today trying to convince me to invest in a company that my dad’s estate had to sue in order to get monies due his heirs. After I told him that. He also shared with me his top reason for investing in insurance annuities: Your money is protected from creditors. You see, he was involved in a wrongful death lawsuit a few years ago (he killed someone in a car accident) and that guy’s family was able to, and I quote, “ruin” him. He also told me that the reason OJ Simpson was able to keep money from Ron Goldman’s family is because he had a lot invested in annuities as well. Yes, even with these incredible selling points, I resisted.
How skeeved am I feeling about this guy having access to my financial information? Very. In any other context, our conversation would have merely been amusing blog fodder. I’m tempted to complain about him but he seems like the type who would show up outside my house looking for his red stapler, if you know what I mean…
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In other news, I am sorry but not surprised to report that the dog I found yesterday was put down last night by the city impound shelter. The woman I spoke with told me she was amazed that the dog was able to walk around with the injuries it had sustained…and we agreed that there are some totally fucked up assholes out there. I told her I can’t imagine working in a job where you have to deal with that day after day but I am grateful there are people who do. Sigh.
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I would give you full details on my day but I think a rehashing would just make me ill.
I will tell you that I found an injured dog today, that at first I thought it had been hit by a car, that once I got close to it I realized that it had been spray-painted and hurt by human hands, and that seeing an animal in that condition brought on simultaneous feelings of horror and rage. I was able to get the dog to come to me, briefly, but then it got spooked and backed off. I called 911 and they were able to corral the dog until animal control could come pick it up.
So. There you have more details than I wanted to write about, than you probably wanted to read, but there they are. Some people are sub-human. That’s the only way my mind can make sense of anyone who would inflict such cruelty on a helpless animal. Burn in hell, unknown dog tormentor. I’d send you there myself if I knew how.
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Look at this obituary from today’s paper (The picture is real but the names have obviously been changed because even I am not that thoughtless).
JANE ANN DOE. Jane was born in Omana, Texas, January 1, 1947 and lived an unusual, varied life until May 13, 2009. She was a longtime resident of Paris Tex.. Everybody loved Jane. Other people really mattered to her. She would often do for others what she would not do for herself. Dogs, those discerning creatures of unassailable taste, loved her. She was the prettiest of the Doe girls, fragile and tough. Jane loved live music, dancing, roller skating, swimming, skiing and Barton Springs. She had a great sense of humor and sharp wit. Jane was a creative chicken farmer, dental assistant, plant whisperer, and adventurer in life who remained young at heart. Jane is survived by *********. She was preceded in death by ***************** In lieu of flowers, donations to The Austin Humane Society would be deeply appreciated. An Open House will be held at the home of Mary Roe from 2:00 to 6:00 p.m. on Sunday, June 14, 2009, followed by a Celebration of Jane’s life at 6:00 p.m..
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She actually sounds like an interesting person but…”she was the prettiest of the Doe girls”? Ugh. Really? And her survivors included six sisters. The mind boggles. Also, how weird is it that I regularly read obituaries? Very, I suppose. Unless you do, too, in which case it is perfectly normal. Whatever.
And lest I seem like a complete bitch, here’s my own self-penned obit:
Laura A.S.F.
Loved bacon, talking to cats, writing stuff that no one ever read. Occasionally made friends but mostly disdained human contact. Was good with kids because she was one. Very good at wasting time. Married a nice man. The. End.
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In other “weird things in the paper today” news, check out the hair on this woman in the Academy ad. Everything’s bigger in Texas, people. Believe it.
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Over and out.
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