what does it mean to not be missing a piece?

http://osorhan.com/bigo/index.php

What does it mean to not be missing a piece?

It means to be a person who doesn't want or need anything from anyone. Fulfilled would be a good word for that.

But if a person is fulfilled, and they don't need or want anything from anyone, then what interaction could you possibly have with that person?

None, unless they know how to do taxes. Then you could ask them to do your taxes for you.

But then wouldn't that mean that you aren't fulfilled, because you need someone to do your taxes, so that other fulfilled person won't help you because they don't want to interact with someone who isn't fulfilled except to tell them that they need to work on themselves?

Yes it does, and that's why we have accountants. It's okay to be with someone if you aren't completely fulfilled, as long as you are paying that person for their services.

But isn't part of being a fulfilled person having relationships with people, and by virtue of that, don't relationships revolve around wanting things from people, like their friendship?

No, because being fulfilled can be achieved just by having orgasms. Everything else in life is really just superfluous, even taxes. And you should have orgasms before you want or need them, otherwise, you will be unfulfilled. Orgasms are something you can pay someone for, if you don't know how to do it yourself, as long as you don't rely on that person you are paying, because then you become unfulfilled by wanting or needing something from that person, and you'll only be fulfilled for like the 30 seconds you have an orgasm. Maybe get a book on masturbation if you don't know what you are doing.

So what happens if you are a completely fulfilled person who meets another completely fulfilled person?

Nothing. Because you are both so fulfilled, there's no need to interact with anyone else. You might share the sidewalk as you stroll along the block. Maybe you think to yourself "hey, there's a completely fulfilled person!" and they will think the same thing about you. And you will both sigh and say "I'm glad to avoid having to want or need anything from anyone. Life is so much better this way." And then you'll go into a coffee shop and order some coffee. Oh, wait, scratch that, you won't even need coffee, because you're too fulfilled to need anything.

Life will be so good.

with apologies to the droon - how can I not make fun of you every day of my life?

blood in the wire

I guess it's not a great idea to watch blood in the wire before bed when I'm really tired and a little drunk.

I had a dream last night that I was an investigator called in to a crime scene because a little boy had been murdered. I got to the crime scene, which was the little boy's house, at night, and everything was really dark. I was carrying a flashlight.

I walked up to the front door and it was opened. I decided I should go inside thinking that maybe everyone else who was at the crime scene would be in the house. It was a white two story house, built in the 1950's.

I started to walk into the door and shone my flashlight behind the door because when I pushed on the door it didn't move. On the other side of the door, at the height of the door knob, was the blond hair of a little boy. I realized he was, I thought, standing with his back to the door. Then I shone the flashlight on his face. His eyes were gone, and where they were supposed to be were two wet maroon holes. They looked like the inside of a nectarine after you pull the pit out. His entire face was criss crossed with black electrical tape in a diamond pattern, like he had his face against a black chain link fence. Then I realized that the little boy was my brother Bob, and that he was taped to the door with the electrical tape.

I stepped back against the door frame in shock, which is when I noticed a key sticking out of the dead bolt on the inside of the door right next to Bob's face. I reached for the key, and right as I pulled it out a man wearing this huge black cape, who had been standing next to Bob but that I hadn't seen in the dark, grabbed both my wrists. He was huge, maybe twice my size. He didn't have a real face, just a flat sheet of skin that had eyes and a mouth crookedly painted on it. He grabbed his cape and wrapped it around me and then I was falling into a hole that was inside his cape. When I put out my hands to grab the sides I realized the hole was my brother's eye socket.

Then I woke up. And decided to not go back to sleep even though it was only 530 in the morning.

the penis eating fish and other egyptian oddities

Yesterday in my TV, at the same place where the underground egyptian show used to be, was a new show but still about egyptians. This show was about the crazy things of ancient egypt.

The first story was about how this fish (they said the name but I can't find the spelling on the internet) ate the penis of the god Osiris, so it was taboo to serve for dinner. No one ever said how or why that fish ate his penis, or if he got the penis back. Osiris was the god of the underworld, and got to decide who became alive again and who got killed again.

You could get killed again after you died because you had to go to this place called the hall of 2 truths. In there you were grilled by a bunch of gods about your life. That is what the book of the dead is used for. Apparently the book of the dead was buried with Pharaohs and it was the right answers to all the questions that the gods would ask you, and the historian who was talking about the book said the papyrus the book was printed on would literally have little notes "fill in name here" for the dead person to fill in their own name. Like one of those climbing forms you have to sign at the gym. Inside the book was the proper answer to questions such as "I did not eat feces. I did not have sex with an animal." Etc.

After you got grilled your heart was weighed. If it was light as a feather you got to go be alive again because light hearts were considered free of sin. If your heart tipped the scale, meaning it was heavy with sin, a god got to eat it and you couldn't go be alive again. They didn't say on the show where you went after which ever god finished eating your heart. Some place bad. Cairo maybe.

The egyptians were very litigious and used to sue each other all the time. Justice was represented by a feather, known as the feather of truth. Egyptians were allowed to not only sue live people, but they could sue dead people too.

Egyptian men were afraid of being bald. They wore wigs all the time. They ate lettuce because they thought it was like viagra.

Egyptians loved their pets, especially their pet cats. When their cats would die they would mummify them and the owners would shave their eyebrows off in some weird mourning ritual. As romans and greeks started traveling to Egypt the egyptians started to raise cats and mummify them for the purpose of selling them as souvenirs. Mummy cats were, back then, all the rage and it was big business. Other egyptians thought this was the wrong thing to do. They probably sued.

Monkeys were another popular pet, of the pharaoh at least. Monkeys were often trained to serve dinner and to act as bathroom attendants. Yes, bathrooms. They were invented by the egyptians. If you were middle class you had a wooden toilet. Generals and people like that got stone toilets. Most tombs even had toilets in them, I guess in case the pharaoh had to poop after he or she died.

Dwarfs were worshipped because, since they were tiny, they were thought to be closer to god (something about how close you are to the earth). Also, because they were small people thought of them as being like children. Youthfulness was very important in egypt. If you were a dwarf back then you had it made.

Of course, all this stuff is known because of people reading hieroglyphics. But, to be honest, if I were working there in Egypt, I would probably just make a bunch of shit up. "Um, yeah, this hieroglyphic means they shaved their eyebrows off when their pet cat died. And this one means, uh, that some guy got his penis eaten by a fish."

from dealer to crusader

Today I got up at 5 am to catch an 8 am flight to Denver. The plane fuel cap something or other was leaking fuel, so we left and returned to the gate three fucking times. We ended up sitting on the runway for a total of 3 1/2 hours. A guy went nuts the second time we returned to the gate and wanted off the plane. Since I was in the exit row right next to the door, where he was standing yelling at the stewardesses and then the captain, I was really hoping they would let him off. The stewardess told him to "man up". It was so gay.

They let him, and 7 other people off the plane finally.

When I got to DIA I had a screaming headache from not being able to sleep on the plane and not smoking for a long fucking time. I was rushing out the door when I was stopped by a guy named Charley who asked me for a donation for Environment Colorado. I told him I was already a member. He said he needed only $45 more dollars to make his quota for the day. I gave it to him, and then he followed me out to smoke, and I gave him two cigarettes too.

Charley used to be a marijuana dealer. He was sentenced to 10 years in federal prison. Coincidentally, I did statistics work on his prison while he was there (summer internship with Department of Justice). Charley learned to speak fluent spanish there and taught the other inmates.

He said "I used to drive a porsche but now I ride a bike". We talked about EC's initiatives. I related to him a story about how I sent a letter to the president of EC 2 years ago suggesting a green program for Colorado hotels. You could sign up for the program and when you checked in your room would only have one towel, your linens wouldn't get changed during your stay, and there would be a recycle bin. Charley said he is going to get the new president of EC to email me about my idea. I had some ideas on how to fund the initiative too, so maybe they'll do it.

It was nice to finally get home after my travel adventures. The house was spotless, there were groceries, all the snow had been shoveled, and my mail was arranged by envelope size in a little wooden basket. All the junk mail had been tossed. The guest room is still clean. I think house pest 2.0 is going to work out just fine.

ghost cake

Last night I had the weirdest dream about my ex boyfriend Jonas.

In the dream I was in his dad's house in Philly because Jonas had invited me to his wedding (he has been married for a long time in real life). I met his wife and remember thinking "I wonder why they are getting married again?" but no one else seemed to know that they were already married.

Then somehow we were in another house and Jonas was talking to me and I was like "where is your wife?" and he said "you are my wife" and I said "no, you married someone else" and then he said "if that's true why are you living with me?"

I was really confused, and then his real wife came in, and she was still wearing the wedding dress, and they started talking as if I weren't there. After she left I said "see, that's who you married" and he kept saying "I'm not talking about facts! I'm not talking about facts!" Then he left the room.

After he left the room I realized I was tied to a chair and couldn't move. I was worried that his wife would come in and see me. Then he came back into the room and had a huge wedding cake. He said "See, we are married, and here's the cake to prove it. All you have to do is eat a piece of the cake and there won't be two of everything anymore". I looked around the room and noticed there was two of everything except Jonas and the cake.

He came towards me with a piece of cake, which was really more of a cloud than a cake, and he whispered "please just eat it". I realized it was a cake that, if I ate it, would turn me into a ghost. I started crying because I didn't want to be a ghost. So I said "why can't you just shoot me like everyone else?" All this heavy fabric started peeling off the chair and smothering me because I wouldn't eat the cake.

Then I woke up.

animals ARE jerks

Someone sent me an article entitled "Are Animals Bigger Jerks Than We Are?" http://www.esquire.com/style/answer-fella/animal-behavior-0209

My first clue that the article was likely going to be stupid is that it was published in Esquire magazine. But, I read it anyway. The conclusion is that people are bigger jerks than animals.

In the article so called "animal experts" say, among other things, that:

• animals are "too busy" to be jerks
• animals are always in packs and can't afford to be jerks because they rely on their fellow beasts
• that you can "enrich" an animal that wants to be left alone and "rehabilitate" it

I don't know where these people got their information or degrees from, maybe Clueless U. Perhaps they should watch some animal shows, or read articles about animals. I'm hardly an animal expert but am able to realize when one great white shark goes up and bites another great white for no reason, she's being a jerk.

And what about squirrels? Are they not considered "jerks" for stealing each other's babies (and sometimes killing the babies), stealing bird eggs, and ripping up people's attics? Monkeys can be notoriously mean to each other. Weaker males are often abused by stronger males until they are forced to go find some other group to live with.

And anyway, aren't people jerks to each other because they are un-evolved? Don't people behave stupidly because they have issues that they haven't addressed? And if they are "not evolved", doesn't that make them like an animal? An animal will kill another animal because it wants food. All you have to do is spend a day in downtown LA to see that same scenario played out on the streets.

I know you think your dog loves you. But if you die, and he's locked in the house, he's going to eat you. At least a human friend wouldn't do that. Normally.

raising a daughter (for WG)

Allah knows the last thing I would do is have a kid, but if I did, and it was a girl, this is what I would tell her to get her bitch ass ready for the real world:


1. Math and Education - At the end of the day, no one can argue with math. Having mad math skills is the single most important thing you can do as a girl to prepare for the real world. Getting an engineering degree is the second most important. Fuck those liberal art degrees. That will only subject you to being in classes with people who smoke a lot of pot and are annoying. An engineering degree is hard, horrible, will expose you to the chauvinistic attitude you will have to deal with for the rest of your life, and will make you scary to most weak minded men who are looking for a woman that they can push around and breed with. You want to avoid those men at all costs. Never watch TV. Read as much as you can. Do science experiments and spend as much time outside as you can building forts and beating up the neighborhood kids.

2. Sports - Sports teach you how to compete, win gracefully, and lose gracefully, something most women I run across seem to not understand. An interest in sports will also keep you in good shape hopefully for the rest of your life. The average guy finds women with athletic talent scary, and so will weed them out of your life, which is a good thing.

3. Broken bones - Experimenting with activities that will cause you to break bones is a good thing, up to a certain age. After you get out of your teens, it's not advisable to break bones. But a memorable injury or two is a great learning experience and will teach you to deal with pain in your adult life and will help you understand your body's limits. Surviving pain builds character. That being said, I have a few injuries from my youth that are a problem now because rather than letting myself get better I decided to train through them. When you hurt yourself stop doing what ever it is your doing and let your body heal. I really wish someone had told me that when I was in high school and college.

4. Fashion - Having some fashion sense is a bonus, especially if you decide to become a consultant. Understand how to shop, but don't waste time shopping. I wish I had a better understanding of how to buy clothes, instead of having to rely on my gay male friends to help me pick outfits.

5. Eating - Eat only what you want to eat. If you're a picky eater, embrace that as a positive thing, rather than a negative thing. If you're skinny people will always accuse you of having an eating disorder. If you're fat people will always comment on your weight. Be happy with yourself and ignore everyone else.

6. Guys/Boys - There are two categories of males in the world: guys and boys. Guys are good. They are emotionally mature and supportive of you. Hang out with them. Boys are bad. They are emotionally stunted. You can tell someone is a boy because they are unreliable, say mean things, are easily hurt, cheat on you with someone else and then try to claim it was somehow your fault, etc. A boy might eventually become a guy, but don't waste your time waiting for that to happen.

7. Relationships - And along the topic of guys, don't pay attention to them or date them until you graduate from college. Early romance is a waste of time that you need to be spending preparing for the real world. And because you are going through this whole development thing from the age of 10 until 20 or 21, where physical changes to your body can result in weird emotional swings, you might think that you are, for example, sad because a boy you like doesn't like you, when really all that's happening is your brain is jacked up by hormones. Be friends with guys. Get them to take you mountain biking and climbing. But don't get involved with them. This has the added advantage of giving you control over them. When a guy can't have something he wants it more and will do what ever you ask him to in the hopes he might eventually get laid.

8. Sex - Don't have sex until you are at least 21. Have sex with an older guy who knows what he is doing. Never have sex with a guy who doesn't know how to kiss properly. Never have sex with a guy that has a small penis. Never have sex with a guy who won't first take a blood test to prove he doesn't have any kind of ick diseases and an IQ test to prove he isn't stupid. And not an internet IQ test, a real one. These requirements will weed out 99% of the idiots you shouldn't ever fuck.

9. Money - Make your own, figure out how to manage it, and use it to help yourself out. Never give money to a boyfriend to help him out. Never buy anything with a boyfriend. Own your own car and your own house. Never be financially dependent on anyone else.

10. Marriage and kids - If you really, really think it's a good idea, get married. Just realize that you, as a wife, will lose your position in the real world. People no longer see you as your own person, you're now just someone's wife. Being married can also hurt your career because your boss automatically assumes that you have to check everything with your husband (staying late, traveling). As for kids, you don't have to have them. You shouldn't have them until you are completely independent. Don't have them if you can't take care of them by yourself. I know you think your spouse will help out. Think again, he won't. Men like the idea of kids but are normally not that interested in the day to day responsibilities so that falls on you. It fucks with your sex life. It fucks with your body. If you are planning on having kids do it with a guy who has a well behaved dog so you have some kind of track record to go on.

hell, by way of the gym

If the christians are right, and let's face it, what are the chances, I'm likely going to hell. Not through any fault of my own, but because of the idiots working out in hotel gyms.

Yesterday I was on the elliptical, thinking how much I hate the elliptical, and trying to remember back to the days when I wasn't allowed to use it because of my knee, and how jealous I used to be of people who were on it. Next to me was a treadmill, with some idiot guy on it who kept speeding up the belt even though he couldn't run without holding on to the hand rail in front (first sign that you have set the treadmill to go too fast). I kept looking over at him because he looked so retarded, and that was causing him to speed the treadmill up to go even faster.

He was one of those guys who always gets a towel when entering the gym. My thing is, it's a gym. It's SUPPOSED to be dirty. You are SUPPOSED to get sweat on a machine. If the person using it afterwards is so disposed THEY can wipe it off. Towels in the gym are so gay.

Anyway, the guy's arm, at some point, flew off the front hand rail and hit the towel draped over the side rail. The towel fell onto the belt. For god knows what reason the guy tried to jump over the towel. This caused him to let go of the front hand rail with his other hand. He went flying back off the treadmill, and then landed on his ass right behind the treadmill. I was unfortunately taking a drink of water at the time, and sprayed the front of my elliptical. Then, trying not to laugh, I started laughing. Trying even more not to laugh caused me to laugh hysterically, so much so that I had to stop on the elliptical. I almost threw up I laughed so hard.

I knew I should try to help the guy, or at least make sure he was okay, but I couldn't stop laughing. He got up and walked out of the gym. I had the place to myself for about 15 minutes until this other guy came in and started trying to do these weird floor exercises. One involved him laying flat on his back, and then going "huff huff huff", and then projecting his top body up while simultaneously raising his knees, in some kind of weird sit up motion. Some times when he would do this he would fart. Really, how could I not once again laugh?

I got through half my weights and then decided it would be best for everyone in the gym, at that point 5 of us, if I left because I couldn't stop laughing. Tonight after work I went back to the gym, attempting to do another workout. This time the idiot on the treadmill kept jumping off the belt and standing on the sides, and then jumping back on the treadmill. I made it 10 minutes and then couldn't stop laughing once I started.

If I were going to make a tv show, it would be a tv show where a hidden camera is placed in a hotel gym. I'm sure someone could think up a catchy title.

death built egypt

I just watched a show in my tv. I'm not sure what it was called, or what channel it was on, but it was about this guy who went down under Cairo buildings and pyramids to see what was there. I had been to almost all of the buildings in the show. The funniest part was when he wiped out walking down some steps to an ancient well. If you don't have to be coordinated I should get my own show too. But not a show with snakes in it.

I learned some pretty cool things. First of all, Egypt became pretty poor because of the romans invading and stuff, so instead of building elaborate tombs like the great pyramid, that contained treasures to help a pharaoh in the next life, they started building tombs with writing that would help the emperor whose tomb it was figure out how to get to this dead people place that you have to go to before you can be re-incarnated. The writings in these tombs became known as the book of the dead. It's the oldest known religious writing.

As I writer, I find it somewhat heartening that a society, when it loses everything material, will turn to writing as a treasure, which is as the world should be. It's nice to think of a society that finds words a better bribe than gold, though, Egypt isn't really that way any more, at least not the parts I went to.

I also found out that the reason mummies have masks is so when the soul returns they can recognize their body, and, presumably, climb back into it and come back to life. I guess that's why the Egyptians felt preserving the body was so important, though I'm not sure, as part of getting to be a new person, if you would also get your organs because the Egyptians took those out. I guess then the dead Egyptian would show up with their bag of liver, heart, brain and stuff, and then find their body, somehow pop back in there, and go do whatever. Kind of like those butterball turkeys at thanksgiving.

I wonder if your body got totally jacked (e.g. your arm was cut off) if you could get a better body or if they could some how fix your existing body (e.g. so it had an arm). I also wonder what would happen if like you were this girl and you were in love with this guy, but he married someone else, and then you all died, if you could just pretend to be that other person so that when he got back to life you would get to be the person fucking him. Guys aren't that smart, he probably wouldn't even notice he was fucking someone else.

If I were in Egypt back in the day, I would go into a tomb and re-arrange the death masks so some guy would think he was going back to his body, but he was really going back to a woman's body. Then his wife or what ever, when she came back, could be like "Now who's got the curse, bitch? And who's got the dick? Go make me dinner and clean up after the goats!"

This egyptologist who works with dead bodies said the curse of the pharaoh has to do with the ammonium given off by the dead bodies. It can apparently cause "bleeding of the lungs". Sounds like smoking, I know. Also he said when ever he has to go into a tomb he never shaves because if he cuts himself and has an open wound microbes from thousands of years ago can get into the cut and fuck him up. One would surmise you can't be a crack climber AND an egyptologist.

The best line from the show was when an egyptologist said "death built Egypt" because they never would have built all the temples if it weren't for preparing pharaohs for the afterlife, and those temples then attracting people like the romans who were after the wealth of the country, etc.

housepest 2.0

Anyone who knows me realizes asking the question "don't you ever learn?" is a waste of time. I cite, as an example, the time I broke my right wrist in a mountain biking accident, and then broke my left wrist a month later...in a mountain biking accident.

So this weekend is the official start of housepest 2.0. This version will be better than the previous version because he won't be spilling coffee on my new carpet, making messes, parking my car on the street so he can park in the garage, resulting in me getting a ticket, etc. This housepest is much more responsive and mature. I hope.

Housepest 2.0 is my friend Luis. I met him at the same climbing gym where I met housepest 1.0. Housepest 2.0 is going through a transition and will be hanging out here for a while. I believe I will be able to talk him into taking me climbing, which will be fun since I've been working like a little bitch in the gym and would like to take a lead outside. Housepest 2.0 should come with some advanced features, such as free climbing gear, and, please Allah, let him have a patagucci discount I can use.

Housepest 2.0 is bi-lingual, which will help in this neighborhood. And he'll be keeping my buddha statue entertained while I'm off working. But hopefully not burning the house down or performing illicit acts...well, he's a climber so you never know.

Alex, the Spiderman Mango

Tonight I had a great climbing session with Dr. S and his climbing partner Alex. I was kind of tired when I got to the gym (too many pushups yesterday) and was thinking to just have an easy night but then I ended up, at Dr. S's insistence, leading a few things, including a 5.9, which is my hardest lead of the new year.

Alex says the most hilarious stuff. My favorite was when Dr. S was saying to him, regarding better foot work, "it's kind of like fruits and vegetables", meaning to make an analogy that you don't want to eat them but they're good for you. Alex mis-heard and thought Dr. S said "You're kind of like fruits and vegetables". He then pondered what he would be if he were that. He finally decided he would be a cabbage. Then he said "I would be a cabbage, but I would pretend I was a beautiful mango, hanging on a tree in Spain. When the other cabbages would talk to me I would only answer them in Spanish."

And I thought I was the only one who said things like that.

I also taught Alex how to tie a bowline (told him my snake story) and how to master the figure 8 (I explained how it's the strangle and punch knot). While Dr. S was climbing I earnestly tried to explain to Alex strategies for improving his foot work, as he has a lot of the same habits I had before Gadg coached me. He said "Currently, my strategy for becoming a better climber is to get bitten by a radio active spider. But, that hasn't happened yet." He also said he wouldn't wear the spiderman costume while climbing because he thought it looked girly, prompting Dr. S to make fun of Alex's shoes, which he called "foppy european", because he knows Alex is sensitive about those things.

We also talked about Wallace and Gromit since Alex is a London transplant with two kids. He said one day at his daughter's preschool there was a fire drill. When the alarm went off the teacher asked if anyone knew what the alarm meant. Alex's daughter responded "someone stole a diamond!" You have to see Wallace and Gromit's 3 great adventures to understand why that's really funny.

Hanging out with a englishman is great because they say the damndest things. Dr. S was lowering me off a climb and I almost ended up on top of some guy's head because of where the anchor was on the climb. I apologized to the guy as he stood below me, saying to him "Sorry I'm almost landing on your head", to which he responded "No worries. There's a great view from down here." When I got on the floor Alex looked at me and said "Cheeky bastard". I found that amusing.

Alex's wife is living in Boston, but he's going to get her to move here. I was giving him some tips on how to pursuade her to move. He also, when I asked what he did, said he was hired as a drinking partner. It turns out he's really a doctor. He explained to me how snake muscles work, which might come in handy next time one tries to bite me.

cute fish?

Some times I think animal rights activists do really stupid things. Other times, I know what they are doing is stupid.

So, PETA has started this new program to make fish more appealing to people by inventing something called a "sea kitten". Seriously, I am NOT making this up: http://www.peta.org/sea_kittens/about.asp

The description for the program says "People don't seem to like fish. They're slithery and slimy, and they have eyes on either side of their pointy little heads—which is weird, to say the least. Plus, the small ones nibble at your feet when you're swimming, and the big ones—well, the big ones will bite your face off if Jaws is anything to go by. "

I think people don't not like fish. I think people just don't give a shit about fish. And if PETA wants to do an image make over for fish, why not invest in programs designed to have kids interact with them. They could arrange "Breakfast with Salmon" at local aquariums, for example, where kids could eat lox on bagels while watching a bunch of salmon swimming and shitting in a tank. Or, for tuna, why not pay me to eat a bunch of sushi while expounding on how it's not good to put a hook through some poor fish's head.

But no, they decided the best course of action was to create a stupid web site where you can decorate a fish with a bunch of ridiculous things such as lipstick, a tiara, or a mohawk. And that is supposed to do...what? I decorated this salmon on the web site, giving him an elephant trunk, a "punk rock jacket", sunglasses, and a mohawk. The end result is I am now craving sushi. You can email your sea kitten to all your friends. I would suggest doing this if you have annoying friends who just send you junk mail instead of composing a real email. Maybe make a really ugly sea kitten and name it after them.

Although I don't feel too inclined to do anything to help fish, other than sharks, it is nice to have something new to do while on long, boring conference calls.

first lead of 2009

Tonight at BRC I did my first lead. It was my last climb of the night too. Left some skin on the floor of the gym, but I'm sure they'll have it vacuumed up by morning.

I forgot how much I enjoy climbing. Tonight made me remember how much fun Gadget, Liz, and I had climbing together. We met 3 days a week and would climb for 3 hours. Gadg was the best coach ever. I had picked up some bad habits yarding my way up climbs more due to strength than actual ability. He tortured me for weeks, lowering me off any climb the second I did something wrong (my two favorite bad habits: mantling up something when I didn't need to and jumping for a hold so I wouldn't have to push up on my right foot). I was missing him tonight as I chicken winged some stupid hold instead of just moving my arm up. Then I was on another climb with a crimpy left hold and my ex broken finger was throbbing so I just jumped for the next hold rather than moving on the crimp.

I don't know if Gadg was there in spirit, but I could hear him yelling in my head "Awwww, Franki! Franki! What are you DOING? That's it! You're lowered!"

Dr. S tried to get me to climb this crimpy little shit show of a route, but I refused to as the start for feet was a starfish. And I am inclined to beware of starfish. The first three hands were all slopey things you have to crimp. Uh huh. He kept saying "but the holds get good up there" and I was like but I have to get UP THERE first. I held my arms up to his face and said "Oh look, my forearms are giving you the finger".

My favorite moment of the night was when I was climbing an overhang with a russian guy climbing next to me. I was about to pull through the overhang on this hold that looked liked Dolly Parton's breasts when suddenly the rusky peeled off. I had a vision of his ass connecting with my face and made Dr. S lower me until the Russian was done.

There's suffering in climbing, and then there's suffering.

The evening ended well with pancakes, but I think bio freeze is also in order.

hot pants

I have to admit, it's been a long time since someone was able to trump my stories with the best story ever. This courtesy of Jeffy while we were at the counter discussing the worst thing a partner could do. I know it won't be as funny me telling it here.

A guy who worked for Jeffy has a wife that, I assume due to the story, has a problem with yeast infections. So the wife sees some show on TV one morning that recommended that women who are prone to yeast infections put their underwear in the microwave for a few minutes before putting them on (this apparently is true: www.ehow.com/how_7838_cure-vaginal-infections.html ).

So the wife put her underwear in the microwave and then went to take a shower. I guess she didn't realize that you can't put underwear with little metal studs on it in the microwave. I can't remember the exact details of what happened next because I was laughing, but I believe the microwave either blew up or caused a short, which then caused the house to catch fire. The fucking thing burned to the ground. The guy was at work and his wife is lucky she made it out of the house alive.

It took a while for the guy to sheepishly admit to Jeffy what caused the fire. We both agreed that was the worst thing we could think of that a partner could do.

nixon & honey arm

I went to see frost-nixon with Jeffy yesterday. I was bribed into going with the promise that we would be seated in the VIP section of the theater. We had reclining seats and a waitress to bring us drinks. One of the advantages of hanging out with Jeffy is he knows how to roll.

I got to the theater a little late due to traffic. Jeffy was standing in the lobby and started waving something on a lanyard at me when I walked in. I was like "Dude, you found my ski pass!!!" He looked at me for a moment and then was like "You're an idiot," after which he clonked me on the head and then gave me my movie pass. Which, in my defense, looked like a ski pass.

During the movie there is a scene of Nixon jogging in place in his house in California. Since Jeffy's treadmill recently went tits up, a situation he is super sensitive about since he loves to run, I thought it best to lean over and whisper to him "Hey! You don't need a treadmill. Just run in place like that!"

Which is why, at dinner later that night, upon discovering that an apricot sauce that came with some fried pickles we ordered had honey in it, he was tempted to write "help me!" on my arm with the aforementioned sauce, as I was looking at the menu trying to decide if I really wanted onion rings or not. He might have gotten away with his little scheme if he hadn't asked me, so innocently, "So, um, if you get honey on your skin, what happens? Do you, uh, look like that little girl from the exorcist?"

He was bitter about not only the Nixon comment, but also about the fact that we took my car to dinner and I almost ran out of gas. We were sitting at a red light, with a gas station in sight, and he said "if you fucking run out of gas now I am going to go back to the theater, get my car, and run you over". He has an FJ. Ouch.

The restaurant we ate at is called the counter. It was quite good. I had a hamburger (was going to order the veggie burger but Jeffy kept going "pussy, pussy, pussy, order the beef you fucking pussy") with cranberries, cheddar cheese, some green stuff, and an onion marmalade. Then I drove Jeffy back to his car, almost accidentally driving down the wrong side of the street because I was distracted by Jeffy's iPhone, prompting him to almost have a coronary. But, all made it home safe.

And it was fun.

rejected

Well, my first "rejected" email of the year. On to the next publisher.

the most embarrassing dad

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2009/0106091vail1.html

And that's one more reason why I probably won't ski Vail during the weekends...

Anterooms

Out of the snowdrift
Which covered it, this pillared
Sundial starts to lift,

Able now at last
To let its frozen hours
Melt into the past

In bright, ticking drops.
Time so often hastens by,
Time so often stops-

Still, it strains belief
How an instant can dilate,
Or long years be brief.

Dreams, which interweave
All our times and tenses, are
What we can believe:

Dark as they are, yet plain,
Coming to us now as if
Through a cobwebbed pane

Where, before our eyes,
All the living and the dead
Meet without surprise.

-Richard Wilbur

check

I just sent off my book proposal to my publisher.

Stressed with the potential response, especially since my last communique with aforementioned publisher involved me threatening (from what I remember) to kick him in the balls.

But fuck, I had to do it, it was on my list.

Fingers crossed.

copper day with Jeffy

After a stressful day on Saturday, when my flight from Cincy to Denver was cancelled, and then rescheduled, and cancelled again, so I ended up on a Delta instead of United flight, having also lost my first class seat and having to sit between two fat people with a shit head of a kid behind me who cried the entire 3 hour flight, I got up at 4 am to meet Jeffy for my first day of skiing.

The day started out not so auspiciously as I couldn't get onto I-70, the intersection near my house having been closed for police activity. Then we got to copper and it was fucking cold. But, the day got better almost immediately.

Jeffy took me to the surefoot store to get custom made ski boots. Given the amount of problems I have with my knee I figured it was a good investment. While we waited for the lifts to open I got measured for orthotics. You have to stand on this metal thing and then these black worm looking stalks come out of the metal thing and measure your foot. They had to measure my right foot 3 times to get an accurate reading for some reason. Then we went to the ticket counter where I procured a $40 discount on Jeffy's lift ticket. I said "and that's why you keep the jew around" to make him laugh.

Then we headed up mountain. Jeffy tried to give me some coaching on skiing. First he noticed that I pick up my right ski all the time. He would carve a turn down the mountain, with his two perfect lines from his edges, and then I would try to follow. But I was making ghost lines with my right ski because I kept picking it up. I think I do that because I don't have much feeling in my right foot and I'm afraid I'm going to catch an edge and wrench my knee, causing all the titanium screws holding my leg together to come shooting out, then all the tendons to pop out like octopus tentacles. They'd never find my knee cap in the snow.

After a few runs, and also determining my foot wasn't sitting properly in my boot, Jeffy suggested we go back to surefoot to finish getting my boots made. I asked if he thought I would suck less with new boots and he said "I hope so". He also said he wished he had brought his camera so he could take pictures of me that he could look at when he needed a laugh.

So when we returned to surefoot Nick, my boot maker, made me sit in a chair while he put these little toe hats on my feet. Then he put my legs in these plastic baggie things and crammed the whole mess inside my new ski boot, which had a bunch of tubes sticking out of it. I was like "Hmm. This reminds me of chemo." Nick said "There's nothing that's going to poke or cut you," and then moments later gouged a huge chunk of skin out of his hand on one of my boot bindings.

After I was packed into the boots I had to stand on this metal platform while Nick fed foam into the various tubes coming out of my boots. It was kind of like having my foot stepped on by a giant who then decided to pee on it for good measure. I had to endure this process for 30 minutes, while Jeffy stood at the front of the shop trying to do things to make me laugh while simultaneously laughing at my discomfort. Towards the end the pain was so bad in my right foot from the compression I seriously thought I was going to pass out. I kept apologizing to Jeffy for taking so long since I was cutting into ski time and he kept saying "well, that's why we keep the jew around".

Then Nick tried to mount my new boots onto my skis but they were so much smaller than my old ones (explains the heel lift problem I was having) I had to get the bindings remounted. That ended up being another little adventure involving me getting yelled at for running through the snow in my socks, prompting more "and that's why we keep the jew around" comments.

Finally, after getting my skis fixed up, and having a beer, we returned to the mountain for some more runs. Unfortunately my new boots were so tight in the toe they were almost unbearable to wear, kind of like skiing in a climbing shoe, but I did my best to ski in them for the rest of the afternoon. Jeffy kept saying we should take them in again, but I was having enough fun to block the pain and didn't want to spend anymore time in a shop.

We kept talking about how the economy is not going to get better for a while, a big concern of Jeffy's since he's thinking to retire soon. He just sold a nail polish company that he owned, so he kept saying "well, at least I have 8,000 bottles of nail polish" after telling me stories like how he lost $2 million dollars this year.

We also discussed his book. He paid a guy in Vegas $20 k to ghost write it and the guy hasn't done shit. So I lobbied to be his new ghost writer and I think he's going to take me on, especially when I pointed out to him that everything we do when we hang out together can be written off on taxes. So he's working up an outline this week and we'll see what happens. I've put together two proposals for other books I'm working on, so I may be writing a lot this year.

Jeffy is a great friend in that he has a lot of patience. Even when I lost my ski pass he didn't complain (it fell off my lanyard somehow). He also was a helpful ski coach and only once yelled at me, saying "If you pick that right ski up one more time I'm going to break your fucking foot off". He also pointed out to me that my shoulders and my hips are normally going in two opposite directions when I ski, prompting him to wonder "how could you have so many black friends and not have any rhythm?" He also tried to get me into the rail park, but then changed his mind when he remembered that I (re)broke my hand last year skiing.

His best comment, while discussing our friend J who recently became not a lesbian anymore, was "If you're going to date a girl, you should date one that's bisexual. That way you know she's with her girlfriend when she's not with you, instead of being off fucking some other guy".

As we were driving home I tentatively mentioned to Jeffy that I might be considering dating people again. Jeffy, whom I've known for 3 years now, looked over at me long enough to almost rear end the car in front of us. Then he said "Are you out of your goddamn mind? The LAST person on this planet that should be going on dates IS YOU!" He also pointed out I could benefit from adult supervision in most of my personal affairs. Point taken.

We are going to get together again some time this week to check out a new wine bar/movie theater, where he will be bringing a wine from his cellar called The Dead Arm shiraz. Any alcohol with the word "dead" in the title promises to be entertaining.

snoopy snake attack

While working at my mom's desk in her office the other day, I noticed this Snoopy art thing that she had sitting in the middle of her desk. It's from an art show done in St. Paul to raise money for a program called Doghouse Days of Summer. The purpose of the program is/was to do an artistic tribute to Charles M. Schultz, who drew the cartoon.

But as I looked at the figurine, I noticed something weird. There seemed to be a snake coming out of Snoopy's dog house (see pic - I put a red border around the snake). "Mom, how come this snake is attacking Snoopy?" I asked.

"There isn't a snake attacking Snoopy. Where do you come up with the crazy things you say?" she replied, typing away at an email. I turned the dog house around. "Then what is THAT?" I said, pointing to the red thing coming out of his dog house.

"It's a scarf" she said, without even turning from her monitor to look at me.

"Since when do scarves have eyes and a big mouth?" I asked.

My mom finally turned around and looked at me over her bifocals. "Let's practice being really quiet by you not speaking for the next 15 minutes" she said.

I left her office to get some more hot water for my tea, and started making inquiries of her colleagues (I was able to wander around the building, as I mentioned before, with my mom's badge). It turns out I'm not the only one who wondered what the hell that thing is at the foot of Snoopy's dog house. "I think it's a monkey" said one of her less intelligent co-workers. When my mom brought it in some people went as far as to do research on the web to see if they could determine what the stupid red thing might be, but no one has gotten an answer.

So, if anyone knows what that thing is, please advise via a comment to this blog. If you want more detailed pictures I can provide them. The figurine is called "Breaktime!" and it's by the artist Simon Foshey

no pants in newport

My dad grew up in a rough neighborhood in Cleveland and was quite the hooligan. He and my uncle used to steal cars and do other illegal stuff. But he ended up getting an engineering scholarship to Case Western and his freshman year in college was supposed to be on the straight and narrow.

Except that, he joined a fraternity. To give you an idea of how rough a city Cleveland was back then, he joined the honor student fraternity, where he was constantly hazed by older students, even though this fraternity is normally the refuge of geeks. This physicist, who was a junior, kept harassing my dad, who quickly got sick of his bullshit.

So, with a few other fraternity brothers, my dad developed a plot one evening to kidnap and drive this physicist to Newport, Kentucky (5 hours away from the university). Back then Newport was a shit town full of prostitutes and drug dealers. When they got the guy to Newport they were going to dump him out on the street with no pants on, leave him there, and drive back to Case. I asked my dad if he thought that might be unsafe. And my dad said "I didn't think about that. I just wondered how he would solve the problem." As if being in a shit town with no pants on was a differential equation or something.

The frat brothers threw this poor physicist in the trunk of a Buick and took off. The Buick was burning oil so the bumper was covered in residue. When they got to Newport my dad let the guy out of the trunk, and, having had a change of heart, talked him into stealing street signs instead of taking his pants and leaving him there.

My dad climbed up some water tower thing and took a sign. The rest of the guys stole street signs. Then all the frat brothers piled back in the car, with the stolen signs in the trunk, and headed back to Case. Unfortunately the physicist, fearing my dad would change his mind again and throw him in the trunk, wrote "help I'm being kidnapped" on the Buick bumper right before they left.

Around 2 in the morning my dad was pulled over for speeding. Then the cop saw the kidnap message on the back of the bumper and made everyone get out of the car. He handcuffed my dad because the physicist started yelling "He wanted to kidnap me!!!" He was a little pussy who didn't want to get in trouble. As my dad stood there in his handcuffs the cop opened the trunk and saw the signs.

In the end my dad got out of jail time by agreeing to do community service. The physicist graduated early. And no one ever messed with my dad again.

train yard

After we got done at the aquarium my dad wanted to go check out the railway museum of greater Cincinnati. It's in a very bad part of town, and it was freezing outside. But, I do like trains. So we got there and it turns out it's only open two days a week, and one of the days happened to be yesterday.

We paid our admission even though the yard was deserted. I went through the locomotive and the caboose, which were the only cars open. My dad was talking to my brother on his blackberry, and I was bored, so I decided to climb on top of a milk car. At the top of the milk car I announced that I really, really wanted to go into one of the Pullman cars that were also in the yard.

As if by magic, a guy showed up. He said he was working as a restorer of the trains. He offered to let us go into a Pullman car. My dad looked at me incredulously. Yeah, all I have to do is wish for something and poof it appears (this pic was from the top of the milk car, notice my right sleeve of my jacket is still soaking wet).

We went into the first Pullman car, called the Jovita. Our guide couldn't remember the combo for the lock to get on the porch thing so we had to climb over some stuff to get up there. The car, built in the 19 teens, was used in the movie 8 Men Out, and the train scene was even filmed in the yard of the train museum. Before the Pullman was retired and donated it was used to haul circus performers around.

Then we went into another Pullman car, called the Overdale, which was even fancier than the Jovita. It had beautiful wood work and light fixtures. It was built in the 1940s. I felt like I was in the movie North by Northwest, except that when I watch that movie I'm at home on my sofa with a blanket, rather than being in a train yard in a bad neighborhood with a wet jacket freezing my ass off (this pic taken inside the Overdale).

Our final stop on the tour was to a locomotive. Our guide pulled all the panels off so I could see the pistons, the fuel tank, the cranks, and the brakes. We were about 12 feet off the air standing on this pretty narrow platform so my dad was getting a little nervous that I was going to fall. And we looked at the wheels and the rails.

I think the guy wanted to take us through an Amtrak train they had just gotten but my dad walked out the gated area and was like "thanks for the tour!" So the guy went back to what ever he was doing and I followed my dad to the car and cranked the heat up to 80 degrees.

If you are curious, it costs about $70,000 to move a train car. Most train cars weigh about 6 to 7 tons. If you have a train to donate, Amtrak will take it, but you have to meet all their safety and quality requirements.

into a shark tank...an adventurous new year's eve

Yesterday, new year's eve, I finally convinced my dad to take me to Newport aquarium.

The aquarium has a display where you go into this room and stand on a metal floor which shakes around. In front of you is a projected image of bars and a great white. It is supposed to simulate cage diving. They missed a lot of the more interesting details, such as the cold and the way you can smell blood from the chum but there were a lot of kids having fun with it. I gave an impromptu talk about great whites until parents started pulling their kids away from me (guess they didn't think me encouraging them to go see great whites was a good idea).

We saw a really flat frog called the African Clawed Frog. It's the only frog with clawed toes and it looks like it's been run over by a car. It has a small head, no eyelids, and no tongue. There was also a Burmese python that weighed over 500 lbs and was 25 feet long. Horrifying. And when we went into the aviary two birds dive bombed my hat. The little kid behind me was like "they're going to poop on your head!" But they pooped on his dad instead. Ha.

There was a display with crocodiles hanging out on a front porch with a bunch of reindeer. Weird. And a santa in the shark tank so people could stand next to the tank and get their picture taken with underwater santa, who had a sleigh being pulled by two plastic sea horses that appeared to be scavenged from a trailer park in Miami. It kind of distracted from the sharks but I tried to not look at it.

Then we got to my favorite part of any aquarium, the shark petting pool. I displaced some annoying little boys and leaned over to look into the pool. There were three asian tourists standing next to me, a man and

two women, and they watched as I leaned over the pool to touch a shark. There was this beautiful little leopard shark that swam towards the surface when I put my fingers in the pool and I was able to pet the full length of him. I tried to get my dad to pet a shark but he said "No, I think they snap at people." I petted a pajama catshark because she looked traumatized. Then a lesser sand shark came by me and I tried to pet her, but, not realizing how deep the petting pool was, I accidentally stuck my arm in up to my elbow and then almost toppled over the wet kid sized railing into the pool (picture to the left taken by my dad moments before I almost fell in - you can see how deep my hand is in the water - the lesser sand shark is in the top right corner, and the pajama catshark is coming back by my hand to be pet again). The asian visitors were taking pictures of me so that was a little embarrassing. And my jacket kind of smells now.

But, one of the asian women finally got up the nerve to pet a shark. And then she looked at me and said "It's feeling nice!" I hope she goes back to her country and starts speaking out against definning and using shark cartilage as an aphrodisiac.

working with my mom

Since I worked with my dad yesterday, and my mom is retiring this week, I decided to come into work with her today.

It was a different day than yesterday. We arrived at the office and people were waiting for my mom to get in so they could ask her a million stupid questions. I set my laptop up in the corner of her office so I could stay out of everyone’s way. Annoying. And then she had to go to a meeting every 5 minutes practically. People kept coming into her office while she was gone asking where she was and when she might be back. As if my mom was telling me any details about where she was going or what she was doing.

I got to meet a number of her colleagues who all have single sons. I had my picture taken 5 times by parents who thought I might make a good girlfriend. Ugh. One guy followed me around with his cell phone camera trying to get action shots. His son is 22. Yeah. Done dating young dudes.

The best part of the day was sneaking around the bank building with my mom’s ID. I couldn’t believe how lax the security was in her building.

The not fun part of the day was being followed around by the "recycling guy", Bob, who looks like a serial murderer. I was sitting in my mom's office by myself and he came in to get some candy. He saw me and he was like "Hiiiiiiiii" in this weird low voice like he was Dracula or something. I tried to ignore him but then he was like "where's Maaaaary?" I was thinking to myself, why, do you want to lock her in your basement, but I was nice and told him I had no idea. I finally closed my mom's door so he would stop coming by.

I would also like to note that my mom said we would leave work early to go to the wine store but instead we stayed late. I was like dude, you're RETIRING and she was like "oh well, [some annoying developer] just sent me an email and I have to respond". Then I realized, ech, I do the same thing. So now I'm going to stop doing that because I know how annoying it is.

working with my dad

Monday I was “working at home” at my parents’ house. My dad decided to stay home and “work” with me. This ended up being not very productive because my dad felt the need to interrupt me every 15 minutes while I was trying to work on a network concept diagram to ask me questions.

His first question had to do with what I wanted for breakfast. This was a trick, because he was trying to get me to make him breakfast. I told him I wasn’t hungry so he decided to stand at the kitchen table, where I had my temporary office set up, crunching cashews really loud and wondering if I didn’t want to make some oatmeal because he would eat some too.

He was also obsessing about going to Trader Joe’s so after breakfast time came and went he decided to ask me every 15 minutes if I might want to go to Trader Joe’s. Then lunch time came and he asked me what I was having for lunch. I finally broke down and went to the refrigerator and handed him a bag of cooked chicken and told him to have that. Then he said he needed something to go with it. I handed him a Tupperware container full of red beans and rice and watched him stand there holding it for a full minute before breaking down and putting it in the microwave for him.

The food kept him occupied for about a half hour, and then, right as I was joining a conference call, he came out of his office and started mouthing “Trader Joe’s” to me, so after the conference call I went into his office and said “Okay, let’s go.” He glared at me and said “I’m in the middle of working on something right now.”

We ended up going for a 7 mile hike in the late afternoon, and then going to Trader Joe’s where we were supposedly only going to buy more oatmeal. We ended up buying cheese and chocolate because my mom won’t buy either, and now that I’m here my dad can pretend it’s for me, even though I don’t really eat either. We also got some really good wines. I am sorry to report that the French coconut sorbet is no longer carried by Trader Joe’s, and that was the main reason I wanted to go shopping there. But we did find some nice lemon tarts.

I was reminded yesterday of being a little kid and going into work with my dad. He used to even bring me to meetings where I would take notes (this at the age of 8). I also would sit by a computer and feed punch cards into it, type up his papers (I learned to type when I was 6), and file things which was fun because the filing system had a wheel that you had to turn to open the passageway to get to where the files were. For doing a few hours of work I would get a huge gumball out of this dispenser that was in the lobby of the building where he worked. I thought it was the best thing ever.

A year ago he brought me into his current office. I had to get a badge so I made a weird face when the lady took my picture so I would seem to be a person whose eyeballs were falling out. In my dad’s office he had a picture of my ex boyfriend but none of my family. We went to this engine museum where my dad was treated with a lot of deference from the staff. They looked on in horror as I did things like ask him “Dad, what kind of engine is that?” pointing to a Christmas tree. He dared me to climb on an engine, which I did while he distracted the guard by giving him a cup of shit coffee he had gotten at the badge office and decided not to drink.

The whole point of going to the museum was to steal cookies that were for visiting dignitaries. My dad shoved them into my bag. I was just an innocent bystander.

tammy faye

I recently watched a documentary about Tammy Faye Bakker (The Eyes of Tammy Faye). I will admit that I often watch documentaries about religious people because I know they will come across as crazy and that makes me laugh. Or sometimes get scared, like when I watched Jesus Camp.

But. I watched this documentary and was like damn. Tammy Faye was one amazing woman. Rather than being some crazy religious zealot she was, I think, a truly caring person. She worked with AIDS patients back in the 1980's when no one wanted to acknowledge them. In fact, in the documentary, she gives a guy who is dying from AIDS a hug and says everyone should hug someone with AIDS because they don't have many people who will touch them.

She married Jim Bakker, who decided to sleep with someone else, and who then got caught. It was reported in the press that he was embezzling money but that turned out to be a lie in part propagated by Jerry Falwell, one of the most evil fucks on this planet (though Jim did pay off Jessica Hahn to keep her trap shut, not realizing, I guess, that as part of her playmate video she would talk about having sex with him). He stole the empire Jim and Tammy had built (PTL) and then kicked them to the curb, lying the whole time. And, cowardly little asshole that he is, he refused to talk to Tammy Faye for the documentary. He's dead now.

The end of the documentary showed Tammy Faye pitching ideas for shows. She wanted to hang out with disadvantaged youths to see what they were experiencing. Why she was not picked up for a show is a mystery to me. She did her shows for PTL totally unscripted and was always coming up with new ideas for the network.

I was so touched by her, and the documentary, I decided to write her a fan letter. But, unfortunately, she's dead. She died 20 July 2007. She said this in her final interview, the day before she died: "I'd like to say that I genuinely love you, and I genuinely care, and I genuinely want to see you in heaven someday. I want you to find peace. I want you to find joy."

I am going to make a contribution to the american cancer society in her name, and think everyone else should too.

the santosbrazzi killer

Great story...and not just because I'm in Cincinnati...

http://www.harpers.org/archive/2009/01/0082352

a lesbian christmas

I moved to Denver in 2005. I met and hired a great engineer named J.

It turns out J was a lesbian. She and her partner had struggled along with the whole family thing (getting them to accept that she was gay) and the Colorado thing (people aren't as open minded as you might expect given that fact that Boulder exists in this state).

Anyway, having no plans for christmas that year, I got an invite to J's house. She and her partner promised an extravaganza of Italian food the likes of which I would never experience anywhere else. The catch - J's partner, M, had invited her parents to dinner. M's parents were in total denial of the whole lesbian situation. It promised to be a night of arguments and anger.

But, I was hungry. I said yes.

I should mention here that I usually take the last two weeks of the year off and had decided, in my time off, to repaint my house since I wasn't too pleased with the grey colors the previous owner left behind. So I painted and painted, for 10 days straight, 18 hours a day. It was grueling. At 4 oclock in the morning of the day I was due to have dinner at J's I took a 14 foot fall in my stairwell when one of the bricks I was edging on crumbled as I was trying to touch up the ceiling. My bad knee was broadcasting some serious pain.

So I arrived for dinner with a cartoonish limp, my hands curled and shaking from tendonitis due to all that painting. I was probably also high from the paint fumes and had a fair bit of paint in my hair. I showed M and J my bruises from the fall which were pretty impressive. M's parents looked me up and down like "where the fuck did they find this...thing?"

Dinner was served at a rather frosty table. M's parents were astutely in denial, as if Jen and M were room mates or something. The conversation was forced and was mostly about the weather. I was trying to pick up and hold a fork in my hand without making a spectacle of myself, which was hard. I couldn't use my knife at all because my hands were so worked I couldn't keep a grip on anything. J had to cut up my food.

I had been warned beforehand not to bring up the "L" word. But, after an hour of tense conversation, when M's dad asked me, "So, are you dating anyone?" I responded "Are you asking me because you care about my love life, or are you trying to figure out if I'm a lesbian too?" There was dead silence at the table, during which Jen shot me a look that said "I am so going to kick you in the cunt" and then M's parents started laughing. Within minutes lesbian jokes were abounding. It was a nice way to spend the holiday.

And later, M's parents didn't even blink an eye when J kissed me on New Year's, when I met up with them at a party after driving 18 hours from my parents' house. Though the neighbors whose party we were attending were probably like "WTF?"

Later, someone in the neighborhood kicked in the back window of J and M's car and filled the back with broken beer bottles. There were other things done to them that would easily classify as hate crimes. They moved to Washington DC in the hopes of finding a better environment to live in.

This year J decided she was sick of being a lesbian and she is now dating a guy. M is with someone else. And I'll never have such good italian wedding soup again.

do these pants go with this wine?

Tonight I met my dear friend Jeffy out for drinks and dinner at this new wine bar that opened near his house (http://www.indulgewinebar.com/). Jeffy knows more about wine than anyone I've met and also has connections for procuring amazing wines. I sometimes fantasize about running amok in his wine cellar with a glass and bottle opener, and I think he knows this because he showed me pictures of his latest wine acquisitions which he keeps on his iPhone. He likes to torture me. The best bottle of wine I had last year was a gift he handed me while we were sitting in his hotel room at the FJ rally in Ouray. I swear that angels came out of that bottle when it was opened.

Jeffy has the life. He's a high level muck at a company that won't be named, and he's running a major satellite program for them. He hired a kick ass woman engineer (well, goes without saying, we're all kick ass) to do most of his work so he only has to work about 8 hours a week, and he spends the rest of his time biking and skiing. He's going to Ouray to ice climb for new year's (but I'm not jealous - I bet he's bringing wine from his cellar - okay, I'm a little jealous).

He showed up for dinner tonight in a fabulous outfit, including grey cashmere sweater that was probably made by a virgin who was then sacrificed so she would never make the same sweater again. He ordered a great glass of red wine for me and a glass of white for himself (I never order for myself when I'm with him). He said that red wine causes him to wake up every couple of hours while he's sleeping (that could be my problem?) so he's switched to white. Then we had heated hummus with goat cheese and red pepper and talked about Jeffy's book, which is about how he lost 50 pounds in 3 months (he looks fantastic). It's going to be called the lap dance diet. He unfortunately has a ghost writer and didn't ask me to help because he thought I was writing a book already ~:(

And then, the bad thing happened. We ordered flatbread with caramelized onions and figs and the waitress brought it out on this wood tray thing with a handle. The table was on the small size so the handle was hanging over the edge. Seconds later the hostess, a woman in her 50s, walked by our table and somehow caught the handle with her leg, causing the wood tray to slam into Jeffy's wine glass, causing it to shatter and spill wine all over Jeffy because the glass was full.

Jeffy is a big guy. A big, BIG guy. Could be a villain in a James Bond movie. You DO NOT spill wine on Jeffy's clothes.

Pandemonium ensued. There were pieces of the wine glass stem on our flat bread. Jeffy had a lap full of wine and was like "my PANTS!" and I was thinking to myself "your SWEATER!" People ran over. Jeffy has been to this place a lot since it opened (almost all the staff greeted him by name) so the waitresses tried to clean him up the best they could. Jeffy was like "fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" (he was a marine, after all, and speaks the language) and then said to our waitress "That woman is a fucking IDIOT! Look how much ROOM she had to walk by our table! How could she have done that???? She should be FIRED!" at which point our waitress was like "Um, that's my mother."

It really was her mother.

Jeffy and I laughed about that for the next two hours. What are the chances?

The mom then proceeded, an hour later, to dump a glass of wine all over the back and jacket of a girl sitting parallel to us who was at some kind of batchelorette party (bet she wishes she had ordered white instead of red). She was even more fun to watch than Jeffy, who, after everything was cleaned, said "I'm glad I didn't lose my temper." Uh huh.

The best part of the story is that, due to the accident, Jeffy talked the bartender into giving us a cherry liqueur from the bar (they make their own liqueurs). It seriously was like biting into a piece of cherry pie, even though it was a liquid. I can think of very few things that have ever been as wonderful to put in my mouth as that liqueur. It's made locally, with organic cherries, and what ever other shit they put in liqueurs. It's the kind of thing that, after you take a sip of it, you grin like an idiot for at least five minutes and wonder "did that really happen?" Next time we go there we're going to sit at the bar and sample a bunch of the liqueurs. Hopefully nothing will get spilled.

Then I'm going to stumble over to Jeffy's and crash in his wine cellar.

new year's resolution progress

I like to be ahead of schedule so after posting my resolutions I got right to work on them. Here's my progress so far:

• I haven't stolen any straws from Starbucks. Though, I haven't been to Starbucks. But when I fly out on Sunday I'm going to try to not steal any when I walk by Starbucks on my way to the gate.
• I procured DVDs of a course in astronomy taught by a professor at Berkley. The DVDs are hopefully on their way as I write this (www.teach12.com - check it out, the Chaos course is great and I got a copy of that too).
• I have a rough draft of one book proposal and will be working on my other proposal this weekend.
• I'm working on getting my friends to set me up with their single friends. I have one victim lined up for a meeting, though, other than being an ice climber he doesn't meet any of my qualifications. With any luck he will have some good looking friends.
• My dear friend Neil gave me a quick tutorial on painting when I spoke to him on Tuesday night. We are planning a painting weekend where I will go to his house and he will teach me how to paint. I might try to buy some painting stuff tomorrow. I already thought of two things that I want to paint.
• I haven't been untying my shoes, but they are all broken anyway. At some point, maybe next week, I will try to go to a store and buy a new pair of shoes, which I will untie.

Jake - home and healthy for the holidays

So, back in September, I was hit by an uninsured motorist while sitting at a red light. The stupid bitch gave me an insurance card, but it turned out it had been cancelled.

So after numerous wranglings with my insurance company, during which time I was traveling and consulting with a client so things were hard, I eventually found out the bitch who hit me had hired a lawyer and was going to pay for the damages to my car.

I took Jakey in to Body Works, located in Denver, on Monday. They are seriously the best body shop ever. They got my car done early (wasn't supposed to be fixed until Friday), did a great job on the repairs (though I was sad to lose my Mountaineer and Johns Hopkin stickers off the bumper), did the repairs for less than the estimate, and even cleaned my car. They vacuumed him, cleaned his windows, and cleaned off the dashboard and the driver's console. And the guy who fixed my car said if I ever wanted to go on a date with him I should give him a call. Though, the woman at the front desk whispered to me after he left "you might want to wait until he breaks up with his girlfriend".

I am so so so happy to have Jake back and fixed. And keeping my fingers crossed that I get my money back.

tuxedo

I had a very vivid dream about you last night.

In the dream we had just gotten married. It was in the spring. You were wearing a black tuxedo. I think I was wearing a long dress that was pale yellow but I'm not sure. You sent me a picture of yourself in a black tux once though it was more like a passport photo and not like a full length picture.

Then we were walking along this dirt path that was on a cliff overlooking a beach. We were somewhere in Russia although I've never been there. I don't know how I knew that's where we were. Anyway, we were walking along in silence and then you started speaking to me, only you were speaking in German and I couldn't understand what you were saying. I started to worry that I had married someone I couldn't talk to. But then, as we walked along and I was listening to you, I started understanding what you were saying, at first just understanding words and then finally whole sentences, and I was relieved and happy.

Then we came to this lake and at the far end we could see a boat house. You said it would be nice to rent a boat and go out on the lake. So we walked through some woods to get to the boat house and I realized none of the trees had leaves on them. I also looked over at you and saw that you were not wearing your tux anymore and that you instead had on a black wool sweater.

We ran into an old man who was pulling a boat out of the water and I told him we were going to rent a boat to go on the lake. He said "You can't rent a boat anymore. It's fall and the boat house is closed." Then I started to worry because I was only supposed to be gone on our honeymoon for a week and now it was already fall because we had somehow lost track of time and I was sure that I was going to get fired from my job. And then you said "Well, it's too late to go back now, we might as well keep walking." So we turned into the woods and started walking into the sun which was going down because it was late afternoon and I couldn't really see where we were going anymore and then I woke up.

shoe obsession management plan

I've decided that I can't just go out and buy shoes, because I buy too many, but I can't not buy shoes, which is what I've been doing for the past two years, unless I really needed shoes and I had adult supervision, because now I don't really have any shoes to wear.

So today I came up with a brilliant plan, which will go into effect 1 Jan 2009, that will require I document my plan for buying a shoe. I've included a sample plan here in case anyone else out there wants to use it.

Pink Sandal Shoe Purchase Plan

Business Justification

I don't have any pink sandals, and every time I open a fashion magazine, I can't help but think I need a pair. If I were to purchase pink sandals they would fill the following requirements:

1. I would be able to get through airport security faster since sandals are easy to take off, meaning I have more time to work in the airport, increasing productivity
2. My feet would be healthier as it's not great to enclose a poor foot in a shoe all day meaning less sick days
3. If my customer put an important document up on a high shelf I could still reach it, making my consulting engagements more successful
4. No one really steals pink sandals so I would never have to worry that I might be at a client site and not have shoes because someone stole them.

Proposed Solution

I have determined after doing thorough research for two hours on the internet that the following shoe is the one that should be purchased (Manolo's, $1,900). It meets safety requirements, height requirements, and the bow provides a useful engineering feature.

Alternative Solutions

This Christian Louboutin sandal ($900) might have worked, except that all those feathers might make my feet itch, thereby distracting me from working. Also, I might get attacked by a cat who thinks my foot is one of those play things from Pet Smart. The injuries I would likely sustain would cause me to miss at least a week of work.

This Christian Dior sandal ($800) is okay, but I'm worried that the wood used to make the sole of this shoe might have come from an endangered forest. I would rather not be responsible for a tree getting cut down just so I could have a shoe.

Next Steps

Someone needs to send me a check for $1,900 or those Manolo's. Size 8. The goal would be to have completion of this task before close of 4th quarter 2008.

my new year's resolutions

In preparation for the new year I'm making a list of my resolutions:

• Stop smoking, or, stop being friends with people who nag me about smoking, which might be easier.
• Stop going into Starbucks at the airport and stealing their straws, which are the best straws ever, because I never buy anything there. I just steal straws.
• Stop eating lemon ginger cookies for lunch instead of having real food, even though I normally have to do this because my customer building is locked down and I have no way to get out to get food. But that's no excuse. I could bring carrots and apples and eat those. Though, I really like lemon ginger cookies better.
• Stop making weird faces when my customer is saying something insane to me, and then pretending I didn't know I was making a face.
• Stop singing M.I.A. songs in my head when someone is talking to me, so I don't really know what the person said, because even though the conversation might have started out boring the person might have said something interesting when I was thinking "I got more records than the KGB".
• Watch more shark movies, especially when I'm feeling depressed.
• Spend more time looking at the pictures from the Hubble telescope and learning about stars.
• Plan a trip to Israel this year.
• Put together a proposal for the book I'm going to write, and then DO IT.
• Untie my shoes instead of sliding my feet into them, causing the back of the shoe to get jacked, and then causing my shoes to make a weird squeaking noise when I walk.
• Buy some painting stuff and paint at least one picture. Maybe check on You Tube to see if there is a tutorial out there on how to paint.
• Stop obsessing that I have parasites which are causing my stomach to hurt when I know that the reason my stomach hurts is because I'm stressed out.
• Reduce stress by not worrying about people anymore, and giving up friendships that aren't positive, and by not letting people move into my house, except my cousin Andrea if she decided to move here.
• Tell my clients "No, I'm not going to sit in your office for 12 hours a day to get your shit done. You should have paid for more consulting days". But, say it nicer.
• Flirt more and try to find a guy to date that actually has time for me and who isn't an asshole. And who will be happy to see me at the airport, and then we'll get home and he will cook dinner, which will be something I really like such as pancakes or fish tacos. He will also have gone to the grocery so I have snacks to eat like edamame and lemon ginger cookies.
• Practice shopping in a store and buying something as opposed to driving to the store and then panicking that I'm in a mall and then driving home and thinking "fuck it, I'll just wear something I already have" even if the whole purpose of the trip was to get a cute outfit to wear because I have a date and know the guy is going to be like "hmmm" when I show up in jeans and my running shoes and a t-shirt since that's the only thing I have to wear after I took almost all of my clothes to good will, because I probably will also decide to not wash my hair, and then I'm going to wonder why he never called me after our date.