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.