Last night I had a dream about this guy I know.
We were running through this small, deserted amusement park. I think the location was St. Maarten, although there's no amusement park there. It was definitely a tropical place. All the colors in the dream were like technicolor. The sky was blue and pink and orange. Everything was wet because there had just been this huge downpour although that happened before my dream started, or I don't remember it being part of the dream. The guy and I were soaked.
He was holding my hand and dragging me behind him because I couldn't keep up he was running so fast. So I asked him why we were running so fast and he said there was a hurricane coming and if we got caught in it we would be killed. I looked behind us and saw this cloud thing which I guess was the hurricane. So we ran through all these brightly colored rides. There were horses that typically would be on a merry go round that were just laying on the ground. None of the roller coasters went anywhere, they were just tracks that ended in space.
So we got to the end of the amusement park and we were on a beach. But the ocean was gone. He looked out over this beach that extended all the way to the horizon, there were still tide pools filled with water and starfish, and he dropped my hand and said "oh my god". I was like "what's wrong? why did the ocean disappear?" And I looked at him and he was fading away. I tried to reach out and touch him but my hands went right through him.
Then he was gone and I could feel this big vacuum of air pulling me back towards the amusement park. I was afraid I would get impaled on one of the roller coaster tracks. I screamed, and woke up. I think I actually screamed in real life.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
fucking bombs
I just met the sweetest little man. He brought me a pizza. I'm chained to my desk until this presentation I've been working on is done, and the pizza from their place is good.
Anyway, he barely had any fingers. And he had a big ol' muff chin. Definitely a muslim. I was talking to him and he said had his fingers blown off in an explosion. He has scars on his face as well. And you know...he was happy as could be to be here in the jingoistic US delivering pizzas to drunk people working on presentations.
I was really touched by this little man. I don't know, it was something about his frailness, his disfigurement, and his obvious happiness. I found out about his fingers when I went to pay him for the pizza. Then I took a good look at his face and saw the other scars. He was very shy about telling me what happened. I made up 99% of the story I have in my head about him from the 1% he told me.
You can see where the thousand mile stare is starting to fade from his eyes. I gave him a nectarine (had to go to the market around the corner to get more this evening since I accidentally left my other ones at my hotel in West Virginia) and he got even more shiny as a person. For the record, I gave him a real tip too.
This meeting with this pizza man was, I think, a bitch slap back to reality. Why is everyone here on the east coast so miserable?
Perhaps I have not done justice to this man. In any case, I am grateful I ordered a pizza tonight. I am grateful that I met this little man with no fingers.
Anyway, he barely had any fingers. And he had a big ol' muff chin. Definitely a muslim. I was talking to him and he said had his fingers blown off in an explosion. He has scars on his face as well. And you know...he was happy as could be to be here in the jingoistic US delivering pizzas to drunk people working on presentations.
I was really touched by this little man. I don't know, it was something about his frailness, his disfigurement, and his obvious happiness. I found out about his fingers when I went to pay him for the pizza. Then I took a good look at his face and saw the other scars. He was very shy about telling me what happened. I made up 99% of the story I have in my head about him from the 1% he told me.
You can see where the thousand mile stare is starting to fade from his eyes. I gave him a nectarine (had to go to the market around the corner to get more this evening since I accidentally left my other ones at my hotel in West Virginia) and he got even more shiny as a person. For the record, I gave him a real tip too.
This meeting with this pizza man was, I think, a bitch slap back to reality. Why is everyone here on the east coast so miserable?
Perhaps I have not done justice to this man. In any case, I am grateful I ordered a pizza tonight. I am grateful that I met this little man with no fingers.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
have gun, will travel, like sand
I just found out today that I'm deploying to the middle east at the end of July. I'll be working in Egypt, Pakistan, Jordan and the UAE. I'm really excited about a change of scene. And I'm lucky my publisher and HP 2.0 are taking care of things state side.
I have a lot of shit to do between now and then. Hopefully it will all get done. I'm going to try to leave a week early so I can visit my brother in Austria and see him compete in this huge robot competition. Maybe swing by the UK so I can personally deliver the painting I made for the office there.
I'm going to buy the coolest hat to wear. And brush up on my hardware skills.
I have a lot of shit to do between now and then. Hopefully it will all get done. I'm going to try to leave a week early so I can visit my brother in Austria and see him compete in this huge robot competition. Maybe swing by the UK so I can personally deliver the painting I made for the office there.
I'm going to buy the coolest hat to wear. And brush up on my hardware skills.
Monday, June 15, 2009
and while we're on the subject of getting fucked...
I've been having a lot of conversations about love lately, with friends and my customer. Everyone has problems.
But, I think the thing that's causing their problems is that they all make bad decisions. They get into relationships that aren't what they need, and then they are afraid to get out of them because they don't want to be alone. I know, I've done that myself.
The thing is, love is an emotion like any other, but it gets treated like the string theory of humanity. It's not acceptable that I get pissed and murder someone, but it's okay if I'm in a relationship and I'm screwing around with someone else. Or worse, that I get into a relationship with someone, and then let myself believe that I'm in love with someone else, and so I'm lying to multiple people about my feelings, and my feelings aren't even real.
I really don't get that at all. You don't have to believe that there's only one person in the world you can love. But if that's what you're selling to your partner, you have a responsibility to live up to that promise. Of course there are a lot of bad relationships out there, but it's the fault of the two people who won't get out of them. And no relationship is going to be perfect 100% of the time. That's why you have to work at it.
I think relationships are like sports. I love to run. I would be sad if I couldn't run. Sure there are days when I'm feeling tired and don't want to go for a run. And I've hit many plateaus where I didn't get any better. Every time you hit a plateau you have to ask yourself: are you going to quit and find another sport, or do you care enough to stick with it? Since running is something I will always care about, I would never quit, even if I had a few months of bad workouts.
Following that analogy, think of a relationship where one of the people isn't put much in. That's like having a running partner who is constantly showing up late, or not at all, and then running badly because he or she hasn't worked out in a while. How long would you continue to call up that partner for a run?
Yet with love, we do that all the time. We put up with shit behavior waiting for the other person to make a decision. And it makes our job harder because on the run we are having to adjust our pace for the other person because the other person isn't putting his or her full effort into it.
Love is also like sports in that few people are really good at multiple sports. If you are trying to have a relationship with two people you are doing the same thing. You'll either be great at one and suck at the other, or you will be pretty good at both but never reach your full potential.
I think that most of the people in the world are just really mediocre when it comes to love. They take a partner down and then resent the partner. They constantly fuck around instead of trying. For people who see love as more of an art than something to do at night before you go to bed, this is very frustrating.
It's not that most people can't love. Most people in the world are amazing at something, either writing, sports, painting, or whatever. But they don't have the discipline to grow their talent. Then they get bitter. Love is like your IQ - if you are constantly working and exploring your intelligence, you'll get smarter. If you don't, you get stupid.
Now that I've been single for a long time I find it hard to deal with shit show guys that I would have put up with in the past. I know what I want and don't feel like waiting around for someone who hasn't figured things out yet. I don't want to deal with yet another guy who can't commit or stop fucking other people on the side. Or who lies or constantly changes his mind about how he feels.
We've all been given a great gift which is the capacity to love other people. And it's wasted, every day. If you don't understand love, you need to grow the fuck up. It's not that hard.
But, I think the thing that's causing their problems is that they all make bad decisions. They get into relationships that aren't what they need, and then they are afraid to get out of them because they don't want to be alone. I know, I've done that myself.
The thing is, love is an emotion like any other, but it gets treated like the string theory of humanity. It's not acceptable that I get pissed and murder someone, but it's okay if I'm in a relationship and I'm screwing around with someone else. Or worse, that I get into a relationship with someone, and then let myself believe that I'm in love with someone else, and so I'm lying to multiple people about my feelings, and my feelings aren't even real.
I really don't get that at all. You don't have to believe that there's only one person in the world you can love. But if that's what you're selling to your partner, you have a responsibility to live up to that promise. Of course there are a lot of bad relationships out there, but it's the fault of the two people who won't get out of them. And no relationship is going to be perfect 100% of the time. That's why you have to work at it.
I think relationships are like sports. I love to run. I would be sad if I couldn't run. Sure there are days when I'm feeling tired and don't want to go for a run. And I've hit many plateaus where I didn't get any better. Every time you hit a plateau you have to ask yourself: are you going to quit and find another sport, or do you care enough to stick with it? Since running is something I will always care about, I would never quit, even if I had a few months of bad workouts.
Following that analogy, think of a relationship where one of the people isn't put much in. That's like having a running partner who is constantly showing up late, or not at all, and then running badly because he or she hasn't worked out in a while. How long would you continue to call up that partner for a run?
Yet with love, we do that all the time. We put up with shit behavior waiting for the other person to make a decision. And it makes our job harder because on the run we are having to adjust our pace for the other person because the other person isn't putting his or her full effort into it.
Love is also like sports in that few people are really good at multiple sports. If you are trying to have a relationship with two people you are doing the same thing. You'll either be great at one and suck at the other, or you will be pretty good at both but never reach your full potential.
I think that most of the people in the world are just really mediocre when it comes to love. They take a partner down and then resent the partner. They constantly fuck around instead of trying. For people who see love as more of an art than something to do at night before you go to bed, this is very frustrating.
It's not that most people can't love. Most people in the world are amazing at something, either writing, sports, painting, or whatever. But they don't have the discipline to grow their talent. Then they get bitter. Love is like your IQ - if you are constantly working and exploring your intelligence, you'll get smarter. If you don't, you get stupid.
Now that I've been single for a long time I find it hard to deal with shit show guys that I would have put up with in the past. I know what I want and don't feel like waiting around for someone who hasn't figured things out yet. I don't want to deal with yet another guy who can't commit or stop fucking other people on the side. Or who lies or constantly changes his mind about how he feels.
We've all been given a great gift which is the capacity to love other people. And it's wasted, every day. If you don't understand love, you need to grow the fuck up. It's not that hard.
to all the guys I've fucked before
For whatever weird reason, I’ve been getting emails and phone calls from a bunch of my ex boyfriends, 4 to be exact. They are all married with children.
The nature of these emails has nothing to do with how I’m doing or how their families are doing. They are about how they would really like to sleep with me. I am getting requests for porn stories about what I would do if I slept with them, and suggestions that I meet these guys, who are all geographically dispersed, somewhere where we could enact these porn stories they want me to write.
It makes no difference that I shut these guys down every time. They think it’s either challenging or funny and persist.
So, here’s the no bullshit answer. You have a wife. You have kids. I didn’t make that decision, you did. To imply that I might be happy just fucking you on the side is insane. First of all, if you were that good in bed, I would still be with you. Second of all, I am not going to put some woman in the same position I’ve been in myself, having a partner cheating, or trying to cheat on the side. Third, unless you’ve told your wife what you are doing, you are a coward, and I find that immensely unattractive.
Here’s the deal. If you don’t love your wife, leave her. And don’t say it has anything to do with me. It’s really unfair to stay in an unhappy relationship just because you are too fucking lazy or whatever to find someone who will make you happy. Don’t involve outsiders in your fucked up relationship, because all it does is fuck everyone up. If you just need someone to make you feel sexy, hire someone. I’m sure there are plenty of chat rooms where you can pay someone to talk dirty to you. I have no desire to talk dirty to you. In fact, your behavior is a huge turn off.
Oh, and the excuse about not being able to leave your wife because she’s been at home with the kids and can’t get a job? Bad decision on your part for marrying a woman with no skills. And you’re shocked that you’re bored now? Give me a break. You wanted a little woman to push around and to push kids out of her cunt. She’s fat and boring now. You set the situation up so that would happen.
And your kids? Trust me, being around two parents that hate each other is not better than if you leave. Chances are you aren’t doing much for your kids anyway. They might miss you occasionally but probably not as much as you think, especially since kids pick up on the fact that you find them annoying. They know you are complaining to everyone how you don’t have time to do anything because of them.
Failing that, why not put some effort into trying to save your relationship? Go to counseling and pay someone. I’m tired of giving you free advice and getting only a headache in return. But here’s a free piece of advice before I cut you off. Trying to fuck someone else while your current relationship is going down the shitter is not a good way to fix things. It’s obvious, I know, but you guys aren’t coming across as being very bright.
You find me sexy because I am. It’s not my fault you married someone who isn’t anymore. It’s probably your fault for being a dick to her. So, be a man and do what you should do. Stop whining and bothering me. Figure out your fucking life and do something about it.
And no, you don't have to tell me what you're doing. I really, really don't give a fuck. But you can keep reading my blog. You need one bright spot in your pathetic life.
The nature of these emails has nothing to do with how I’m doing or how their families are doing. They are about how they would really like to sleep with me. I am getting requests for porn stories about what I would do if I slept with them, and suggestions that I meet these guys, who are all geographically dispersed, somewhere where we could enact these porn stories they want me to write.
It makes no difference that I shut these guys down every time. They think it’s either challenging or funny and persist.
So, here’s the no bullshit answer. You have a wife. You have kids. I didn’t make that decision, you did. To imply that I might be happy just fucking you on the side is insane. First of all, if you were that good in bed, I would still be with you. Second of all, I am not going to put some woman in the same position I’ve been in myself, having a partner cheating, or trying to cheat on the side. Third, unless you’ve told your wife what you are doing, you are a coward, and I find that immensely unattractive.
Here’s the deal. If you don’t love your wife, leave her. And don’t say it has anything to do with me. It’s really unfair to stay in an unhappy relationship just because you are too fucking lazy or whatever to find someone who will make you happy. Don’t involve outsiders in your fucked up relationship, because all it does is fuck everyone up. If you just need someone to make you feel sexy, hire someone. I’m sure there are plenty of chat rooms where you can pay someone to talk dirty to you. I have no desire to talk dirty to you. In fact, your behavior is a huge turn off.
Oh, and the excuse about not being able to leave your wife because she’s been at home with the kids and can’t get a job? Bad decision on your part for marrying a woman with no skills. And you’re shocked that you’re bored now? Give me a break. You wanted a little woman to push around and to push kids out of her cunt. She’s fat and boring now. You set the situation up so that would happen.
And your kids? Trust me, being around two parents that hate each other is not better than if you leave. Chances are you aren’t doing much for your kids anyway. They might miss you occasionally but probably not as much as you think, especially since kids pick up on the fact that you find them annoying. They know you are complaining to everyone how you don’t have time to do anything because of them.
Failing that, why not put some effort into trying to save your relationship? Go to counseling and pay someone. I’m tired of giving you free advice and getting only a headache in return. But here’s a free piece of advice before I cut you off. Trying to fuck someone else while your current relationship is going down the shitter is not a good way to fix things. It’s obvious, I know, but you guys aren’t coming across as being very bright.
You find me sexy because I am. It’s not my fault you married someone who isn’t anymore. It’s probably your fault for being a dick to her. So, be a man and do what you should do. Stop whining and bothering me. Figure out your fucking life and do something about it.
And no, you don't have to tell me what you're doing. I really, really don't give a fuck. But you can keep reading my blog. You need one bright spot in your pathetic life.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
will not dig a ditch for dinner
On saturday a work colleague invited myself and my friend Neil to dinner at his girlfriend's house. I'd met her once and wasn't very fond of her, but Neil liked her so I agreed we would go.
Neilski and I went to the baltimore museum, and then we walked around the sculpture garden, and then drove to the girlfriend's house on Solomon's Island. We got lost because Neil was telling me this hilarious story and we forgot to look for our exit off the highway. We found it in a roundabout way and were only a half hour late. My colleague, we'll call him C, did not think it was funny when I called him from the girlfriend's (we'll call her G) porch to say that we were really lost. Even though he was standing only 10 feet away from me he didn't notice and was getting all pissed that I was going to be late and when I finally told him to turn around he didn't even smile when he saw me.
G walked up to me and gave me a hug. She was either totally coked up or really drunk. She was acting insane. She went to get us drinks and Neil looked at me and said "do you think they didn't really want us to come?" I was pissed because I wanted to just hang out with Neil in Baltimore but C insisted we come to dinner. And now that we were there they were acting weird.
C told us we were having kabobs and that we had to make them because he was busy doing something else. Neil and I were just looking at each other laughing. So we got to work. I first made an Audrey Hepburn kabob out of filet mignon, a zucchini for her dress, red peppers for her lips, and then a mushroom for a hat. I also made a sail boat for C, who sails, that had an onion for a seagull. I made Neil two models that were mad at each other. Then I made a christmas tree, a fox, and a suspicious looking man with a squash for a hat.
C came in from where ever he was and asked why it was taking me so long to make kabobs. I showed him what I made and all he said was "you didn't put enough meat on them! make some that are all meat since you used up all the vegetables!" Neil said my kabobs were nice though. He ate both models. G said I had "sexualized" the kabobs. She almost didn't eat one. C ate the boat.
We sat down to dinner and G dominated the conversation to the point no one could say anything. I kept kicking Neil under the table. A few times when Neil tried to talk G would interrupt him as if she didn't notice. C tried putting his hand on G once to get her to shut up for two seconds and she said "oh, I know, I'm talking TOOOOOO much". And then she kept right on talking. It would have been bearable if it had been an interesting talk, but she was going on and on about how much money she has, how she never entertains without having hired help (guess Neil and I were the hired help), and how everything in the world is fucked up. Nothing she said was very coherent. She threw in a few digs at C about how her mom thinks he isn't good enough for her because he's not rich. That pissed me off.
Then we walked around her garden and got a lecture about her "fabulous" trees, even though she was calling the trees by their wrong names. Neil tried to correct her once and got his head ripped off. Then Neil said that if he lived at her house he would run around the yard naked all the time. She was like "that is just NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!" as if Neil had suggested we all do that, immediately. I was walking behind Neil because I was laughing so hard at her reaction I didn't want anyone to see me.
I ended up doing the dishes. She just piled them up in my arms and said "rinse these and then run the dish washer". Oh, uh, I'm the maid?
Finally we got to her back porch, where there is a water leak. By then the sun was going down. She suggested, and I am NOT making this up, that Neil and I might want to dig up the leaky pipe since she had provided us with dinner. She seriously wanted us to dig a 10 foot trench in her back yard. It was unbelievable.
C tried to get us to stay for a glass of wine but Neil said we were both tired and we left. We laughed the whole way back to baltimore, but not just about G. My favorite story Neil told was about his "bad boy papers", but that's not one I can share here.
I got home at 1230 this morning, didn't get lost, but did get stuck in a torrential downpour.
Neilski and I went to the baltimore museum, and then we walked around the sculpture garden, and then drove to the girlfriend's house on Solomon's Island. We got lost because Neil was telling me this hilarious story and we forgot to look for our exit off the highway. We found it in a roundabout way and were only a half hour late. My colleague, we'll call him C, did not think it was funny when I called him from the girlfriend's (we'll call her G) porch to say that we were really lost. Even though he was standing only 10 feet away from me he didn't notice and was getting all pissed that I was going to be late and when I finally told him to turn around he didn't even smile when he saw me.
G walked up to me and gave me a hug. She was either totally coked up or really drunk. She was acting insane. She went to get us drinks and Neil looked at me and said "do you think they didn't really want us to come?" I was pissed because I wanted to just hang out with Neil in Baltimore but C insisted we come to dinner. And now that we were there they were acting weird.
C told us we were having kabobs and that we had to make them because he was busy doing something else. Neil and I were just looking at each other laughing. So we got to work. I first made an Audrey Hepburn kabob out of filet mignon, a zucchini for her dress, red peppers for her lips, and then a mushroom for a hat. I also made a sail boat for C, who sails, that had an onion for a seagull. I made Neil two models that were mad at each other. Then I made a christmas tree, a fox, and a suspicious looking man with a squash for a hat.
C came in from where ever he was and asked why it was taking me so long to make kabobs. I showed him what I made and all he said was "you didn't put enough meat on them! make some that are all meat since you used up all the vegetables!" Neil said my kabobs were nice though. He ate both models. G said I had "sexualized" the kabobs. She almost didn't eat one. C ate the boat.
We sat down to dinner and G dominated the conversation to the point no one could say anything. I kept kicking Neil under the table. A few times when Neil tried to talk G would interrupt him as if she didn't notice. C tried putting his hand on G once to get her to shut up for two seconds and she said "oh, I know, I'm talking TOOOOOO much". And then she kept right on talking. It would have been bearable if it had been an interesting talk, but she was going on and on about how much money she has, how she never entertains without having hired help (guess Neil and I were the hired help), and how everything in the world is fucked up. Nothing she said was very coherent. She threw in a few digs at C about how her mom thinks he isn't good enough for her because he's not rich. That pissed me off.
Then we walked around her garden and got a lecture about her "fabulous" trees, even though she was calling the trees by their wrong names. Neil tried to correct her once and got his head ripped off. Then Neil said that if he lived at her house he would run around the yard naked all the time. She was like "that is just NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!" as if Neil had suggested we all do that, immediately. I was walking behind Neil because I was laughing so hard at her reaction I didn't want anyone to see me.
I ended up doing the dishes. She just piled them up in my arms and said "rinse these and then run the dish washer". Oh, uh, I'm the maid?
Finally we got to her back porch, where there is a water leak. By then the sun was going down. She suggested, and I am NOT making this up, that Neil and I might want to dig up the leaky pipe since she had provided us with dinner. She seriously wanted us to dig a 10 foot trench in her back yard. It was unbelievable.
C tried to get us to stay for a glass of wine but Neil said we were both tired and we left. We laughed the whole way back to baltimore, but not just about G. My favorite story Neil told was about his "bad boy papers", but that's not one I can share here.
I got home at 1230 this morning, didn't get lost, but did get stuck in a torrential downpour.
friday night bar fight
My great week in WVA was ruined friday afternoon. I thought I was going to get out of work on time. But no, my customer found a bug in the software tool I support that was a show stopper.
I worked on it until around 7 and then was too tired to continue. S, a woman who works for my customer, was leaving around the same time and invited me to go to dinner with her.
S is a bit younger than me, and really cute. She's married but wants to divorce her husband. Half the time anyway. The other half she talks about how great he is. We had dinner and I ate my salad and just let her talk.
The bar was filling up with noisy kids so I paid the bill and got ready to leave. S wanted to hang out longer, and since I haven't exactly been a social butterfly, I agreed to go out with her. We left WVA and went to a bar in Sterling VA. I got to be sober driver.
First S called her husband and he showed up at the bar. I thought that was weird. Then she proceeded to try to get him to hit on me. That was more weird. Her husband is a total tool who told me that he did classified stuff, and that he couldn't even tell me where he had been stationed when he was in the air force. I was like whatever dude, you don't even have to have a poly to do your job. I got bored with him and was ignoring him and then S got into a fight with him and I was thinking this sucks. I was really tired and just wanted to leave but her husband left instead.
Then S called this guy who is one of her husband's best friends, and he showed up at the bar right after S's husband left. He was all over her comforting her about the fight. I meanwhile found two very nice guys from India to occupy myself with. Then S started trying to foist her husband's friend, we'll call him M, on me. I started talking to him about software since we didn't have much else in common. S got pissed suddenly and said "if you guys are going to have some boring technical conversation that I can't be in I'm going to talk to someone else!" She stalked off and started talking to some guy at the end of the bar.
The next thing I knew she was back to our little group in tears. It seems she had picked a fight with the guy at the end of the bar and he told her "don't divorce your husband until he pays for plastic surgery to fix your face". There's nothing wrong with her face. I was like "he's just being a dick" but she was crying hysterically. To get her to stop I said "what do you want me to do?" and she said "go kick his ass". The guy over heard her and tried to pick a fight with me. He was like "Oh, you're going to kick my ass?" and then continued on a really mean rant about how I must be a lesbian, blah blah blah. By then I really did want to kick his ass but the female bartender who had been serving me non-alcoholic drinks kicked him out.
Then S and M started commiserating on how no one was ever going to love them, etc. I was getting more and more pissed. There's nothing wrong with either of them, they are making their own problems, and fuck, they live in a place crawling with singles. So I started going off on them because their pity party was getting me down.
Then M started crying, along with S, and said that he had been in love with a woman who was "the one" but that she had died of cancer. This made S cry even harder. I knew the story was total bullshit. The bar was closed by that point so we went out to the parking lot and I basically called M a lying sack of shit to his face. I told him he was fucked up for fucking S (it wasn't hard to deduce, over the course of the evening, that something was going on between them). I told both of them to stop being fuck ups. I guess something I said must have made sense because S stopped crying and we had a great conversation on the drive home. And M sent me an email yesterday saying it was great to meet me.
I got to S's house at 230 in the morning. She was really drunk and couldn't remember directions back to WVA so she invited me in the house so she could ask her husband directions. They got into this huge shouting match so I just left and guessed the way home. I guessed wrong and ended up in Luray, VA. I finally stopped at a gas station and figured out where I was. Got in at 4 am.
I am too old for this shit.
I worked on it until around 7 and then was too tired to continue. S, a woman who works for my customer, was leaving around the same time and invited me to go to dinner with her.
S is a bit younger than me, and really cute. She's married but wants to divorce her husband. Half the time anyway. The other half she talks about how great he is. We had dinner and I ate my salad and just let her talk.
The bar was filling up with noisy kids so I paid the bill and got ready to leave. S wanted to hang out longer, and since I haven't exactly been a social butterfly, I agreed to go out with her. We left WVA and went to a bar in Sterling VA. I got to be sober driver.
First S called her husband and he showed up at the bar. I thought that was weird. Then she proceeded to try to get him to hit on me. That was more weird. Her husband is a total tool who told me that he did classified stuff, and that he couldn't even tell me where he had been stationed when he was in the air force. I was like whatever dude, you don't even have to have a poly to do your job. I got bored with him and was ignoring him and then S got into a fight with him and I was thinking this sucks. I was really tired and just wanted to leave but her husband left instead.
Then S called this guy who is one of her husband's best friends, and he showed up at the bar right after S's husband left. He was all over her comforting her about the fight. I meanwhile found two very nice guys from India to occupy myself with. Then S started trying to foist her husband's friend, we'll call him M, on me. I started talking to him about software since we didn't have much else in common. S got pissed suddenly and said "if you guys are going to have some boring technical conversation that I can't be in I'm going to talk to someone else!" She stalked off and started talking to some guy at the end of the bar.
The next thing I knew she was back to our little group in tears. It seems she had picked a fight with the guy at the end of the bar and he told her "don't divorce your husband until he pays for plastic surgery to fix your face". There's nothing wrong with her face. I was like "he's just being a dick" but she was crying hysterically. To get her to stop I said "what do you want me to do?" and she said "go kick his ass". The guy over heard her and tried to pick a fight with me. He was like "Oh, you're going to kick my ass?" and then continued on a really mean rant about how I must be a lesbian, blah blah blah. By then I really did want to kick his ass but the female bartender who had been serving me non-alcoholic drinks kicked him out.
Then S and M started commiserating on how no one was ever going to love them, etc. I was getting more and more pissed. There's nothing wrong with either of them, they are making their own problems, and fuck, they live in a place crawling with singles. So I started going off on them because their pity party was getting me down.
Then M started crying, along with S, and said that he had been in love with a woman who was "the one" but that she had died of cancer. This made S cry even harder. I knew the story was total bullshit. The bar was closed by that point so we went out to the parking lot and I basically called M a lying sack of shit to his face. I told him he was fucked up for fucking S (it wasn't hard to deduce, over the course of the evening, that something was going on between them). I told both of them to stop being fuck ups. I guess something I said must have made sense because S stopped crying and we had a great conversation on the drive home. And M sent me an email yesterday saying it was great to meet me.
I got to S's house at 230 in the morning. She was really drunk and couldn't remember directions back to WVA so she invited me in the house so she could ask her husband directions. They got into this huge shouting match so I just left and guessed the way home. I guessed wrong and ended up in Luray, VA. I finally stopped at a gas station and figured out where I was. Got in at 4 am.
I am too old for this shit.
Friday, June 5, 2009
decorated, devoted, discharged - please sign this petition
From an email sent to me about Vic from his sister Angie:
Eighteen years in the Air Force. Four-hundred combat hours. Nine air medals. These are some of the accomplishments of my brother, Lt. Col. Victor Fehrenbach.
Despite this stellar record, he is getting fired under "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." He was served with a discharge notice last fall.One discriminatory law, "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," will likely end my brother's distinguished career.My family recently signed a petition to urge Air Force Secretary Michael B. Donley to let my brother continue to serve his country. Will you sign it now?
http://www.sldn.org/Fehrenbach
Of course, my brother is only the latest in a long line of service members who have been fired after years of distinguished service -- all because they're gay.
But his story illustrates just how absurd and unfair the law is.
It is estimated that the Air Force has spent $25 million training Victor, and he's put that training to good use over the past 18 years. After 9/11, he was hand-picked to patrol the air space over Washington , D.C. to protect the city from further attacks.He was then deployed to Afghanistan , and later Iraq . Over the course of Victor's career, he's logged 88 combat missions and won nine air medals -- one of them for Heroism.
Now, he's two years away from retirement -- facing not just the end of his career, but the loss of his pension as well.All Victor wants to do is continue to serve his country. He's ready and willing to deploy again, and serve his country in any way he can.Join my family and me, and sign the petition to Air Force Secretary Donley to let Victor keep his job:
http://www.sldn.org/Fehrenbach
Thank you for your support, and for all you do in this fight for the freedom to serve.
Sincerely, Angela Trumbauer USAF, enlisted August 1985 - March 1990
Eighteen years in the Air Force. Four-hundred combat hours. Nine air medals. These are some of the accomplishments of my brother, Lt. Col. Victor Fehrenbach.
Despite this stellar record, he is getting fired under "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." He was served with a discharge notice last fall.One discriminatory law, "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," will likely end my brother's distinguished career.My family recently signed a petition to urge Air Force Secretary Michael B. Donley to let my brother continue to serve his country. Will you sign it now?
http://www.sldn.org/Fehrenbach
Of course, my brother is only the latest in a long line of service members who have been fired after years of distinguished service -- all because they're gay.
But his story illustrates just how absurd and unfair the law is.
It is estimated that the Air Force has spent $25 million training Victor, and he's put that training to good use over the past 18 years. After 9/11, he was hand-picked to patrol the air space over Washington , D.C. to protect the city from further attacks.He was then deployed to Afghanistan , and later Iraq . Over the course of Victor's career, he's logged 88 combat missions and won nine air medals -- one of them for Heroism.
Now, he's two years away from retirement -- facing not just the end of his career, but the loss of his pension as well.All Victor wants to do is continue to serve his country. He's ready and willing to deploy again, and serve his country in any way he can.Join my family and me, and sign the petition to Air Force Secretary Donley to let Victor keep his job:
http://www.sldn.org/Fehrenbach
Thank you for your support, and for all you do in this fight for the freedom to serve.
Sincerely, Angela Trumbauer USAF, enlisted August 1985 - March 1990
Thursday, June 4, 2009
whack-a-mole
Besides the rides, we also played some games at the park. We were supposed to have gotten tickets to play them at the entrance, but we didn’t, so W, X, Y, and Z ended up getting these women who worked at the park to give them free tickets.
They found this game called whack-a-mole and decided we should all play. I’ve never even seen the game before, and had no idea what to do. X said “Wait until the mole comes out of the hole, and then you hit it with your mallet” (we each had a huge rubber mallet). My concept of the game was that the moles were going to shoot out of the hole and try to attack me at which point I would hit them with my mallet.
The game started and everyone went crazy except for me. I wasn’t sure if points might be deducted if I hit a hole that didn’t have a mole in it. Also, the moles were coming out of the holes, but just barely. I thought the game was just warming up or something.
“What the fuck are you doing???? Hit the moles!” X yelled at me. I was like “When are they going to come out of the holes?” He was like “They’re coming out NOW you IDIOT!” I hit two before the game ended and had the lowest score ever. After that I didn’t play any more games because the guys kept making so much fun of me.
X won a red stuffed animal for whack-a-mole and proceeded to throw it at people. He also kept doing obscene things with it. Y won a sea horse at a mammoth racing game, and X and Y kept insulting each other’s stuffed animals. Then I grabbed Y’s sea horse and stuffed it down the back of his pants so it looked like a tail. He was walking around wiggling his ass at people.
I’ve decided if things go to shit with my company in the US, I’m definitely moving to the euro office.
They found this game called whack-a-mole and decided we should all play. I’ve never even seen the game before, and had no idea what to do. X said “Wait until the mole comes out of the hole, and then you hit it with your mallet” (we each had a huge rubber mallet). My concept of the game was that the moles were going to shoot out of the hole and try to attack me at which point I would hit them with my mallet.
The game started and everyone went crazy except for me. I wasn’t sure if points might be deducted if I hit a hole that didn’t have a mole in it. Also, the moles were coming out of the holes, but just barely. I thought the game was just warming up or something.
“What the fuck are you doing???? Hit the moles!” X yelled at me. I was like “When are they going to come out of the holes?” He was like “They’re coming out NOW you IDIOT!” I hit two before the game ended and had the lowest score ever. After that I didn’t play any more games because the guys kept making so much fun of me.
X won a red stuffed animal for whack-a-mole and proceeded to throw it at people. He also kept doing obscene things with it. Y won a sea horse at a mammoth racing game, and X and Y kept insulting each other’s stuffed animals. Then I grabbed Y’s sea horse and stuffed it down the back of his pants so it looked like a tail. He was walking around wiggling his ass at people.
I’ve decided if things go to shit with my company in the US, I’m definitely moving to the euro office.
the perverted yeti
I spent the past 3 days at my company’s software conference . My suit got a lot of compliments, and I called Nordstrom’s so I could send Jessica a thank you gift certificate from Starbucks, but she quit! Wonder what’s up with that.
I spent most of my time with the European contingent of my company as the US consultants were kind of boring. The first night of the conference I stayed up almost all night talking about geeky architecture stuff, and only got 3 hours of sleep. I was exhausted after I finished my presentations so I was going to skip the evening’s entertainment to get some sleep.
But the euros talked me into going to this park at Disney called the wild kingdom. At first I didn’t want to go because I thought there might be snakes there. But really it was a roller coaster park with a tropical theme. Though the guys I was with would, without warning yelled “OH MY GOD! A SNAKE!” just to see me panic.
I’ll call the guys I was hanging out with W, X, Y, and Z. They are all senior management types (i.e. they don’t do any work hee hee). They proceeded to get drunk as soon as we got to the park and then they started behaving badly, but in the most fucking hilarious way.
First we went on this roller coaster called Everest. I was riding with X, and he grabbed my hand as we went through the part of the roller coaster where they take your picture. So I had a stupid look on my face in the picture and X was clinging to me like a scared little kid. I laughed my ass off.
Then we stopped so they could get ice cream. X and Y, completely separate of each other, got these frozen bananas with chocolate. I was crying I was laughing so hard watching them eating them. They also got these spray on tattoos. Y got this cartoon character and he kept saying to me “Have you seen my woodie?” before lifting his sleeve to show me his tattoo. Then Z was telling me a story and he turned around and accidentally, somehow, grabbed this woman’s tits. I choked on my wine.
It started raining so we went on this water ride and got utterly soaked. Then we went on this dinosaur ride. I was riding again with X. As we passed this scary dinosaur I yelled “Oh my god! A clitosaurus!” So then X yelled “A vaginasaurus!” at the next dinosaur. Y thought up the funniest one but I can’t remember what it was. He also said “Oh look, a wankosaurus, hiding behind a bush!” The ride was so fun that we stayed on it. As we were taking off again X yelled “Did you see the vaginasaurus?” to the people who were working the ride.
We decided to go on the Everest ride again. This time, I was riding with Z. We were at the end of the ride, where there’s a film of an outline of a yeti, which rips up this rail road track he’s standing on. This time, I noticed that the ripped up track looks like a penis. Then the yeti sits on it! I was like I can’t believe that!
So I told everyone but no one else had noticed. We went on the ride again, and X was with me. He saw the penis immediately after I pointed it out to him. Then I went again with Y. He was laughing his ass off. Then X and Y went to get more tattoos. Z and I went on the ride again, and Z yelled “I see the helmet!” when he saw the penis. And then a bunch of consultants in the front of the train held up their middle fingers when the camera took a picture of us going down the last hill. We got off the ride and the picture was flashed huge on this screen they had set up to show all the pictures taken.
We finally got back to the hotel and sat in the bar until around 2 or 3 am. By then I was so tired I was laughing at everything they did. I laughed so hard last night that my stomach still hurts. I got up at 8 this morning for a client interview. Yikes.
I wonder if our company will be invited back next year.
I spent most of my time with the European contingent of my company as the US consultants were kind of boring. The first night of the conference I stayed up almost all night talking about geeky architecture stuff, and only got 3 hours of sleep. I was exhausted after I finished my presentations so I was going to skip the evening’s entertainment to get some sleep.
But the euros talked me into going to this park at Disney called the wild kingdom. At first I didn’t want to go because I thought there might be snakes there. But really it was a roller coaster park with a tropical theme. Though the guys I was with would, without warning yelled “OH MY GOD! A SNAKE!” just to see me panic.
I’ll call the guys I was hanging out with W, X, Y, and Z. They are all senior management types (i.e. they don’t do any work hee hee). They proceeded to get drunk as soon as we got to the park and then they started behaving badly, but in the most fucking hilarious way.
First we went on this roller coaster called Everest. I was riding with X, and he grabbed my hand as we went through the part of the roller coaster where they take your picture. So I had a stupid look on my face in the picture and X was clinging to me like a scared little kid. I laughed my ass off.
Then we stopped so they could get ice cream. X and Y, completely separate of each other, got these frozen bananas with chocolate. I was crying I was laughing so hard watching them eating them. They also got these spray on tattoos. Y got this cartoon character and he kept saying to me “Have you seen my woodie?” before lifting his sleeve to show me his tattoo. Then Z was telling me a story and he turned around and accidentally, somehow, grabbed this woman’s tits. I choked on my wine.
It started raining so we went on this water ride and got utterly soaked. Then we went on this dinosaur ride. I was riding again with X. As we passed this scary dinosaur I yelled “Oh my god! A clitosaurus!” So then X yelled “A vaginasaurus!” at the next dinosaur. Y thought up the funniest one but I can’t remember what it was. He also said “Oh look, a wankosaurus, hiding behind a bush!” The ride was so fun that we stayed on it. As we were taking off again X yelled “Did you see the vaginasaurus?” to the people who were working the ride.
We decided to go on the Everest ride again. This time, I was riding with Z. We were at the end of the ride, where there’s a film of an outline of a yeti, which rips up this rail road track he’s standing on. This time, I noticed that the ripped up track looks like a penis. Then the yeti sits on it! I was like I can’t believe that!
So I told everyone but no one else had noticed. We went on the ride again, and X was with me. He saw the penis immediately after I pointed it out to him. Then I went again with Y. He was laughing his ass off. Then X and Y went to get more tattoos. Z and I went on the ride again, and Z yelled “I see the helmet!” when he saw the penis. And then a bunch of consultants in the front of the train held up their middle fingers when the camera took a picture of us going down the last hill. We got off the ride and the picture was flashed huge on this screen they had set up to show all the pictures taken.
We finally got back to the hotel and sat in the bar until around 2 or 3 am. By then I was so tired I was laughing at everything they did. I laughed so hard last night that my stomach still hurts. I got up at 8 this morning for a client interview. Yikes.
I wonder if our company will be invited back next year.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
my day with a fashion consultant
With the software conference looming in 4 days, and me with nothing to wear, I was really starting to panic. I tried to manipulate Camile, who does my hair, into shopping with me, but she had to work. She suggested I call Nordstrom's and arrange for a fashion consultation.
I went at 10 this morning and met Jessica, my consultant. She's about 21, is studying at modeling school, and wants to design her own clothes some day. At 5 feet tall and skinny as a rail, she was quite impressive storming around like the CEO of some company in her vertiginous heels. She was dressed in a perfectly fitted suit and this cute shirt. She definitely had style.
I explained my situation to her and told her that I have only ever worn Tahari suits. So we went over to the place where they had Tahari suits and Jessica started picking stuff out. "Do you like this?" she would ask. "Um, sure," I would say. I said that for everything she picked out and she started to get exasperated with me. Finally I was like "I don't care what the suit looks like really. I hired you to find one. I didn't realize I was going to have to pick it." I was getting very, very bored, and we had only been shopping for 15 minutes. It felt like hours.
So then I told her how I wanted something Audrey Hepburn-ish. She looked at me with my bedraggled hair (haven't washed it since I got it cut), my flip flops, and the rest of my disastrous outfit, and said "Audrey, hum".
We found 4 suits for me to try on, and then she asked if I knew my size. I thought I did so I told her I was an 8. I tried on the first suit and Jessica commented that I was supposed to unzip the skirt before putting it on, and that the suit was way too big. She asked what size my pants were and I told her they were a 6, and then brightly suggested that maybe my size was 6 instead of 8 and that sometimes I get my numbers confused. Jessica gave me a whithering look and said "NOTHING that you are wearing fits you. Those pants are WAY too big. It looks like you don't even have an ass." I mentioned that a lot of people say I don't have an ass and maybe that was the problem, not my pants, which I found quite comfortable. "Everyone has an ass" Jessica sighed, collecting up my four wrong sized suits.
"You wait right here and I'll be back" she commanded. Happy that my plan was working perfectly I pulled out my New Yorker and settled into my dressing room. I was hungry so I started eating some baby carrots I had brought with me.
"OH MY GOD, ARE YOU EATING IN HERE?" Jessica shrieked when she returned with the suits. She made me wipe my hands on a wet nap before I was allowed to touch the suits. I offered her a carrot and she wrinkled up her nose. "Slimy. Yuck." I decided to not take the insult to my carrots personally.
I tried on those 4 suits, and then 4 more, and then 4 more. I told her one was too twirrly, one had a weird belt that I couldn't figure out, one was a bright pink and black suit that Jessica swore Audrey would have worn, but I seriously doubt it. I was also having problems with my arms. The skirts all fit but in most of the long sleeved jackets if I so much as moved an arm Jessica would cringe as the fabric seemed ready to burst at the seams. Plus, my arms are about two inches longer than they should be, so wearing a size 4 jacket made my arms look ape like. And I kept having zipper problems because they connected the skirt to the jacket with this plastic thing and if I didn't put everything on just right I got all twisted up.
"I can't move in these things" I complained. "Why can't I just get a bigger suit and then I'll pin the skirt so it doesn't fall off?" That's what I usually do if I don't have time to get something tailored. "You are SO not going to do that" Jessica yelled. "Why do you need to move your arms so much anyway?" "Well, there might be an emergency where I have to move my arms a lot" I pointed out. Jessica rolled her eyes at me for the millionth time. "Then you could always take the jacket OFF."
Finally she found me a really cute linen and wool mix suit that had short sleeves so my arms didn't look weird. And it really does look kind of Audrey Hepburn-ish. Next stop was the shoe department, a place I used to love to go. But I'm not crazy about the current shoes, and Jessica was having a hard time finding something for me to wear.
"You really can't wear a sandal with those" she said, pointing at my feet. They're sunburned with a flip flop pattern because yesterday I took a conference call on my porch and when I'm in the sun for more than 5 minutes I burn. A few of my toe nails are white from painting my brother's house last weekend. And I have multiple blisters from my flip flops. I mentioned to Jessica that my sister had gotten me some pedicure stuff for watching her dogs, and that I just hadn't had time to use it. She gave me a doubtful look that anything might improve the look of my feet.
Jessica's boyfriend called around the time we had been through all the wedges. I told her there was no way I would wear a wedge. Before the wedges she had me try on some shoes with a 5 inch heel. I was like no way in hell, I will fall and break my ass on stage. Jessica and her boyfriend were in a fight so I told her to take the call. "Wait RIGHT here" she said "And DON'T buy ANYTHING until I come back and look at it".
As she was walking away I spied something interesting. It was a sandal, white, covered in lady bugs. The shoe was so horrible it was fantastic. I immediately wanted to try it on. So I asked for the shoe in my size and the shoe department lady looked at me doubtfully. "Jessica said to try those on?" she asked me. "Uh, yeah, I think those were the ones she said," I lied.
When they came I put them on. They were even more appalling on my feet. I did a little dance move in them because the monstrous lady bugs jiggled around whenever the shoe moved. I was standing in front of a mirror testing out different foot flex positions to see what would happen to the lady bugs when Jessica walked back and screamed "OH MY GOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING???? TAKE THOSE OFF NOW!" The lady in the shoe department gave me a dirty look.
"But Jessica, these are my lady bug shoes with special lady bug robots on them. I'm going to infiltrate the conference and then take the whole thing over with my lady bug robot army." I smiled at her and she burst into tears. I felt bad so I took the shoes off and agreed to a pair of boring cream colored heels, even though I spied a pair of semi metallic heels that were amazing. "I saw on the show what not to wear that you can wear semi metallics in the day time" I told Jessica when she said I couldn't try those shoes on. She gave me a look and said "Well we aren't ON THAT SHOW ARE WE?"
It turns out while I was trying on the lady bug shoes Jessica broke up with her boyfriend and that's the real reason she started crying, not the lady bug shoes. She wanted me to follow her around to "accessorize" my suit but by then I was totally over shopping, and Jessica's mood had deteriorated to the point where it was obvious the perfect storm was just over the horizon. Instead I took her to starbucks and she told me what had happened regarding the break up. I told her the guy she was dating was a complete loser and that she was way too beautiful to put up with his behavior. I told her if he tried to get back together with her that she should kick him in the nuts. After a mocha whatever that thing was, and more pep talking, her mood improved.
We went back to the store and I was ready to buy my suit and shoes. The problem is, I had forgotten to ask how much the suit was. It cost $500. I had set a budget of $350. Surprisingly, they gave me the price I wanted. And luckily the shoes Jessica picked out were about a quarter of the cost of the semi metallic ones I wanted.
And now I have something to wear to my conference so I can cross that off my to do list.
I went at 10 this morning and met Jessica, my consultant. She's about 21, is studying at modeling school, and wants to design her own clothes some day. At 5 feet tall and skinny as a rail, she was quite impressive storming around like the CEO of some company in her vertiginous heels. She was dressed in a perfectly fitted suit and this cute shirt. She definitely had style.
I explained my situation to her and told her that I have only ever worn Tahari suits. So we went over to the place where they had Tahari suits and Jessica started picking stuff out. "Do you like this?" she would ask. "Um, sure," I would say. I said that for everything she picked out and she started to get exasperated with me. Finally I was like "I don't care what the suit looks like really. I hired you to find one. I didn't realize I was going to have to pick it." I was getting very, very bored, and we had only been shopping for 15 minutes. It felt like hours.
So then I told her how I wanted something Audrey Hepburn-ish. She looked at me with my bedraggled hair (haven't washed it since I got it cut), my flip flops, and the rest of my disastrous outfit, and said "Audrey, hum".
We found 4 suits for me to try on, and then she asked if I knew my size. I thought I did so I told her I was an 8. I tried on the first suit and Jessica commented that I was supposed to unzip the skirt before putting it on, and that the suit was way too big. She asked what size my pants were and I told her they were a 6, and then brightly suggested that maybe my size was 6 instead of 8 and that sometimes I get my numbers confused. Jessica gave me a whithering look and said "NOTHING that you are wearing fits you. Those pants are WAY too big. It looks like you don't even have an ass." I mentioned that a lot of people say I don't have an ass and maybe that was the problem, not my pants, which I found quite comfortable. "Everyone has an ass" Jessica sighed, collecting up my four wrong sized suits.
"You wait right here and I'll be back" she commanded. Happy that my plan was working perfectly I pulled out my New Yorker and settled into my dressing room. I was hungry so I started eating some baby carrots I had brought with me.
"OH MY GOD, ARE YOU EATING IN HERE?" Jessica shrieked when she returned with the suits. She made me wipe my hands on a wet nap before I was allowed to touch the suits. I offered her a carrot and she wrinkled up her nose. "Slimy. Yuck." I decided to not take the insult to my carrots personally.
I tried on those 4 suits, and then 4 more, and then 4 more. I told her one was too twirrly, one had a weird belt that I couldn't figure out, one was a bright pink and black suit that Jessica swore Audrey would have worn, but I seriously doubt it. I was also having problems with my arms. The skirts all fit but in most of the long sleeved jackets if I so much as moved an arm Jessica would cringe as the fabric seemed ready to burst at the seams. Plus, my arms are about two inches longer than they should be, so wearing a size 4 jacket made my arms look ape like. And I kept having zipper problems because they connected the skirt to the jacket with this plastic thing and if I didn't put everything on just right I got all twisted up.
"I can't move in these things" I complained. "Why can't I just get a bigger suit and then I'll pin the skirt so it doesn't fall off?" That's what I usually do if I don't have time to get something tailored. "You are SO not going to do that" Jessica yelled. "Why do you need to move your arms so much anyway?" "Well, there might be an emergency where I have to move my arms a lot" I pointed out. Jessica rolled her eyes at me for the millionth time. "Then you could always take the jacket OFF."
Finally she found me a really cute linen and wool mix suit that had short sleeves so my arms didn't look weird. And it really does look kind of Audrey Hepburn-ish. Next stop was the shoe department, a place I used to love to go. But I'm not crazy about the current shoes, and Jessica was having a hard time finding something for me to wear.
"You really can't wear a sandal with those" she said, pointing at my feet. They're sunburned with a flip flop pattern because yesterday I took a conference call on my porch and when I'm in the sun for more than 5 minutes I burn. A few of my toe nails are white from painting my brother's house last weekend. And I have multiple blisters from my flip flops. I mentioned to Jessica that my sister had gotten me some pedicure stuff for watching her dogs, and that I just hadn't had time to use it. She gave me a doubtful look that anything might improve the look of my feet.
Jessica's boyfriend called around the time we had been through all the wedges. I told her there was no way I would wear a wedge. Before the wedges she had me try on some shoes with a 5 inch heel. I was like no way in hell, I will fall and break my ass on stage. Jessica and her boyfriend were in a fight so I told her to take the call. "Wait RIGHT here" she said "And DON'T buy ANYTHING until I come back and look at it".
As she was walking away I spied something interesting. It was a sandal, white, covered in lady bugs. The shoe was so horrible it was fantastic. I immediately wanted to try it on. So I asked for the shoe in my size and the shoe department lady looked at me doubtfully. "Jessica said to try those on?" she asked me. "Uh, yeah, I think those were the ones she said," I lied.
When they came I put them on. They were even more appalling on my feet. I did a little dance move in them because the monstrous lady bugs jiggled around whenever the shoe moved. I was standing in front of a mirror testing out different foot flex positions to see what would happen to the lady bugs when Jessica walked back and screamed "OH MY GOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING???? TAKE THOSE OFF NOW!" The lady in the shoe department gave me a dirty look.
"But Jessica, these are my lady bug shoes with special lady bug robots on them. I'm going to infiltrate the conference and then take the whole thing over with my lady bug robot army." I smiled at her and she burst into tears. I felt bad so I took the shoes off and agreed to a pair of boring cream colored heels, even though I spied a pair of semi metallic heels that were amazing. "I saw on the show what not to wear that you can wear semi metallics in the day time" I told Jessica when she said I couldn't try those shoes on. She gave me a look and said "Well we aren't ON THAT SHOW ARE WE?"
It turns out while I was trying on the lady bug shoes Jessica broke up with her boyfriend and that's the real reason she started crying, not the lady bug shoes. She wanted me to follow her around to "accessorize" my suit but by then I was totally over shopping, and Jessica's mood had deteriorated to the point where it was obvious the perfect storm was just over the horizon. Instead I took her to starbucks and she told me what had happened regarding the break up. I told her the guy she was dating was a complete loser and that she was way too beautiful to put up with his behavior. I told her if he tried to get back together with her that she should kick him in the nuts. After a mocha whatever that thing was, and more pep talking, her mood improved.
We went back to the store and I was ready to buy my suit and shoes. The problem is, I had forgotten to ask how much the suit was. It cost $500. I had set a budget of $350. Surprisingly, they gave me the price I wanted. And luckily the shoes Jessica picked out were about a quarter of the cost of the semi metallic ones I wanted.
And now I have something to wear to my conference so I can cross that off my to do list.
Friday, May 29, 2009
don't ask, don't tell, don't be ridiculous
My sister is mad at me right now because a long time ago I wrote a story about this kid Vic whom I considered my best friend in elementary school. He practically lived at our house. Anyway, a few days ago Vic was forced to leave the military because someone outed him for being gay: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8NZDRjEKwtQ
Apparently doing a search on Vic found the story on my blog. I've since fixed that. But I got in touch with another friend from elementary school, Steve, (actually, he was my sister's friend) and he's going to try to put me back in touch with Vic.
As for what happened to him, I think it's disgusting and unconscionable. Steve thinks that someone who didn't like Vic outed him. What's insane is that the military is kicking him out.
I really don't get the whole "gays in the military" controversy. First of all, it's the 21st century. Someone's sexual orientation should not even be an issue. Second, it's like discriminating against any other group (african american, jews, etc). Third, that argument about sex mattering is insane.
I work with the military a lot. I get hit on by my customers a lot. Yes it sucks and is uncomfortable, but I manage to do my job. And, just speculation on my part, these are likely the same guys who are worried about who their fellow soldiers are sleeping with. If you're going to discriminate against someone for reasons of sex, why not include everything: people who are married and having affairs, people who sleep with anyone, etc. The soldiers I've talked to who are most against gays in the military usually have personal problems that lead to their opinions. I remember arguing with a guy in the Army about this. He said "I don't want to worry that a fellow soldier is going to hit on me". I was like "That's pretty arrogant to think anyone would find you attractive enough to hit on".
I hope that the human capacity is such that people can learn to respect other people even if those other people are not like them. People who are prejudice against certain groups of individuals are at best ignorant and at worst small minded idiots. As for the religious right, apparently it's too hard for them, or maybe too boring, to love their fellow man. They would rather cause hatred and discrimination against groups of people. I guess it makes them feel somehow important, though to anyone with a brain they just come across as scary because they make a drama about something that isn't even their business. I don't worry about how my neighbors spend their money, and neither should anyone else. Sex is the same thing. It's an individual's right.
A friend of mine left the air force about 3 years ago because she was so stressed about being a lesbian. My friend Neil and I were talking to her and she said "You have no idea what it's like to go to a party or any social function and worry that someone will find out who your partner is". She got to the point where she wouldn't even grocery shop near her base because she was afraid someone might find out she was dating another woman based on the groceries she was buying.
Something has to change with that policy in the military. And the torture policy. I don't see how someone could arbitrarily judge a person based on who they are in love with, and at the same time think it's okay to beat a prisoner to the point of organ failure. But, maybe I'm not that smart.
Apparently doing a search on Vic found the story on my blog. I've since fixed that. But I got in touch with another friend from elementary school, Steve, (actually, he was my sister's friend) and he's going to try to put me back in touch with Vic.
As for what happened to him, I think it's disgusting and unconscionable. Steve thinks that someone who didn't like Vic outed him. What's insane is that the military is kicking him out.
I really don't get the whole "gays in the military" controversy. First of all, it's the 21st century. Someone's sexual orientation should not even be an issue. Second, it's like discriminating against any other group (african american, jews, etc). Third, that argument about sex mattering is insane.
I work with the military a lot. I get hit on by my customers a lot. Yes it sucks and is uncomfortable, but I manage to do my job. And, just speculation on my part, these are likely the same guys who are worried about who their fellow soldiers are sleeping with. If you're going to discriminate against someone for reasons of sex, why not include everything: people who are married and having affairs, people who sleep with anyone, etc. The soldiers I've talked to who are most against gays in the military usually have personal problems that lead to their opinions. I remember arguing with a guy in the Army about this. He said "I don't want to worry that a fellow soldier is going to hit on me". I was like "That's pretty arrogant to think anyone would find you attractive enough to hit on".
I hope that the human capacity is such that people can learn to respect other people even if those other people are not like them. People who are prejudice against certain groups of individuals are at best ignorant and at worst small minded idiots. As for the religious right, apparently it's too hard for them, or maybe too boring, to love their fellow man. They would rather cause hatred and discrimination against groups of people. I guess it makes them feel somehow important, though to anyone with a brain they just come across as scary because they make a drama about something that isn't even their business. I don't worry about how my neighbors spend their money, and neither should anyone else. Sex is the same thing. It's an individual's right.
A friend of mine left the air force about 3 years ago because she was so stressed about being a lesbian. My friend Neil and I were talking to her and she said "You have no idea what it's like to go to a party or any social function and worry that someone will find out who your partner is". She got to the point where she wouldn't even grocery shop near her base because she was afraid someone might find out she was dating another woman based on the groceries she was buying.
Something has to change with that policy in the military. And the torture policy. I don't see how someone could arbitrarily judge a person based on who they are in love with, and at the same time think it's okay to beat a prisoner to the point of organ failure. But, maybe I'm not that smart.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
hard to believe, I might be on TV
Yesterday I arrived back in Denver completely exhausted from my trip, and work, thinking about my court date that was supposed to be on 1 June that I was going to cancel because the fucking stupid shit for brains asspipe pathetic excuse for a human who hit my car (Kandy Schertz) couldn't be served with papers because she's a lying bitch who avoided the sheriff and then moved out of her apartment. The private investigator that tried to help me find her could only get me her parents' contact information.
I was thinking to just give up on the lawsuit. It seemed hopeless. Even if I could find the stupid bitch I wasn't sure I could get her into court in time for the year deadline I have to sue her (which will be September of this year). I was thinking to myself "unless something completely insane happens, I may just drop the lawsuit".
I got home, and of course, something insane happened. I received a letter about my lawsuit, which I assumed was from a law firm specializing in these kinds of cases. I called the number on the letter thinking I could wrangle some free advice from them.
The conversation went something like this:
me: Hey, I got a letter from you and was wondering if you could help with my lawsuit.
person: Of course, that's why we sent you the letter.
me: So, how much do you charge for legal advice? Because I think I only need to talk to a lawyer for about 15 minutes. It's an easy case but I can't find the defendant and am unsure how to proceed.
person: Uh, legal advice?
me: Yeah, um, aren't you guys a law firm or something?
person: Uh, no. This is a TV show. The People's Court.
me: This is a Denver show?
person: No. People's Court has been on TV for 24 years. It's on national TV. Haven't you ever seen it?
me: I don't have a TV. I thought I was calling a law office.
person: (stifled laugh) In all my years doing this, I've never heard that one before.
Anyway, I told the person who answered the phone my story, and she took all the information I had about Kandy and said the show would try to track her down. I don't know why they picked my law suit. Maybe the whole "Franki vs. Kandy" or maybe someone from the show reads my blog. They are supposed to call me back to let me know if they can find Kandy. See letter below:
So today I took the letter down to the court house to get an extension on my court date. Everyone thought it was cool that I might get to be on TV. Then I got a GREAT admin, Gloria, who patiently listened to my story. I told her I was worried I couldn't find Kandy before the year was up that I can sue under Colorado state law.
She arranged for me to meet with the small claims court judge. I gave a passionate speech about how it was wrong that Kandy should walk away with no punishment after causing an accident. I'm not sure what else I said. I was talking really fast. Anyway, the small claims court judge agreed to suspend my case indefinitely until I can track this bitch down. She also gave me a letter I could take to the post office to see if I can find Kandy's forwarding address. And she said I could serve Kandy with papers through the mail if that was the only option (if, for example, she's moved out of state). Normally you have to go to the court in person to set a date, but when I explained my travel situation to the judge she said I could just do it over the phone.
And she said I would be a good lawyer.
So, I'm back on the war path now. And I think I'm going to write an article about this whole experience and submit it to the paper or 5028.
I can't help but think, because I spent the weekend helping out my brother, that some good karma has come back to me.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
skip
On Sunday, after lunch, Neil and I headed up to the Bachenheimer compound for drinks, and ended up staying for dinner, because Dan put out a bunch of my favorite fruits and cheeses, and then we had lamb chops (little ones), asparagus, and corn. It was great.
Dan also decanted some excellent wines from his and Eva's trip to Sonoma. We sat outside since the evening was nice, and after two glasses of wine Eva was like "hey Franki, why don't you show Neil how you can skip?"
Skipping, or my inability to skip, is perhaps one of my greatest failings as a person. I don't know why, but I can't do it. I always mean to do it right but I can't seem to take just one foot off the ground so I end up just jumping around. Which is weird because when I ski and am supposed to have both feet on the ground, I can't.
Neil tried to teach me how to skip as Eva stood on the driveway having a giggle fit. Occasionally she would skip by me just to make me feel bad. Attached is a picture that Dan took of Neil skipping and then me skipping.
And no, I can't skip even when I'm not drinking.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
where are my pink ladies?
I've been to every grocery store in an over 50 mile radius of where I'm staying out here in DC trying to find pink ladies. None were to be had. So instead I bought some bags of baby carrots.
First, I found out they aren't really "babies" at all. This whole time I thought I was eating the veal of vegetables. But a student told me that in fact baby carrots are just carrots that are too ugly to sell, so they cut them down. I doubted the story at the outset (I've had students lie to me about numerous things regarding the performance of the software I teach; I've also had students sign me up for dating services and enter my business card in "free weekend in Aspen" giveaways and I was once subjected to my entire class singing the theme of the love boat because I've never seen the show and they were making fun of me saying I was like one of the characters who I think died recently of a cocaine overdose) but when I looked at the package it did say "baby cut" though "cut" was written in small print.
I also found it funny that, under ingredients, it said "carrots". Somehow, knowing they are not in fact new, young carrots, they don't taste as good.
Anyway, I accidentally ate a whole bag of baby carrots today. I could say it was one of the small bags, but I would be lying. Around 230, in the middle of class, after I stuffed the last carrot in my mouth, I got the hiccups. And they wouldn't stop. The guy who's class I was taking was getting annoyed. I still have the hiccups but I'm drinking wine in the hopes that will help. Besides getting the hiccups I also discovered that my company badge was covered with cookie goo. Probably should not have let my nephew wear it yesterday when we were eating cookies. I leaned over one of the students to help him and he was like "grossssssssss! what is that?????" and I was like "it's just (hic) a cookie (hic)".
Ech.
I wonder if I'm allergic to carrots...
First, I found out they aren't really "babies" at all. This whole time I thought I was eating the veal of vegetables. But a student told me that in fact baby carrots are just carrots that are too ugly to sell, so they cut them down. I doubted the story at the outset (I've had students lie to me about numerous things regarding the performance of the software I teach; I've also had students sign me up for dating services and enter my business card in "free weekend in Aspen" giveaways and I was once subjected to my entire class singing the theme of the love boat because I've never seen the show and they were making fun of me saying I was like one of the characters who I think died recently of a cocaine overdose) but when I looked at the package it did say "baby cut" though "cut" was written in small print.
I also found it funny that, under ingredients, it said "carrots". Somehow, knowing they are not in fact new, young carrots, they don't taste as good.
Anyway, I accidentally ate a whole bag of baby carrots today. I could say it was one of the small bags, but I would be lying. Around 230, in the middle of class, after I stuffed the last carrot in my mouth, I got the hiccups. And they wouldn't stop. The guy who's class I was taking was getting annoyed. I still have the hiccups but I'm drinking wine in the hopes that will help. Besides getting the hiccups I also discovered that my company badge was covered with cookie goo. Probably should not have let my nephew wear it yesterday when we were eating cookies. I leaned over one of the students to help him and he was like "grossssssssss! what is that?????" and I was like "it's just (hic) a cookie (hic)".
Ech.
I wonder if I'm allergic to carrots...
Monday, May 25, 2009
Neil's Reveal (the blow job secret)
I went to lunch with my friend Neilski yesterday in historic Leesburg. We went to this cool restaurant called lightfoot's that used to be a bank.
While we were eating lunch Neil was telling me about this crazy woman he worked with. He said she wasn't very attractive or nice, but she got Neil's friend to marry her. Then, after they got married, she was always hitting on other men and trying to get them to have sex with her. She would do this in front of her husband.
The guy gang that Neil hung out with all thought this woman was crap, but, Neil's friend Howie ended up going on a trip with her (she invented a reason she had to go with him). Somehow they ended up in Howie's hotel and the woman was trying to get him to fuck her. Howie refused to fuck her, since she was a good friend's wife (and, probably because she wasn't very attractive) but then Neil told me "Howie finally let her give him a blow job so she would leave his room".
I thought it was funny that Howie said that he didn't have sex with this woman, but that he let her give him a blow job. I can think of two guys who have used this excuse with me, and then, well, there's Bill Clinton.
I started to wonder why that might be...I guess if a guy isn't looking at you or making any physical contact with you it's okay in his mind to come in your mouth. From a female perspective that seems a little strange. If I had a penis I don't think I would go around sticking it into places with sharp objects. Guys aren't that smart or maybe they're just careless. Personally, I wouldn't let some guy anywhere near my clit under circumstances like that.
Then I started thinking if a guy ever asks me for a blow job, I'm going to question his motives. Does he want a blow job just to get off, or does he like me? Then I started thinking about how, if I don't want to have sex, I always find it easier to give a guy a blow job than to have him poking at me demanding I pay attention to his penis.
In any case, girls out there reading, beware of giving guys a blow job. Thanks for ruining that for guys, Neil!
While we were eating lunch Neil was telling me about this crazy woman he worked with. He said she wasn't very attractive or nice, but she got Neil's friend to marry her. Then, after they got married, she was always hitting on other men and trying to get them to have sex with her. She would do this in front of her husband.
The guy gang that Neil hung out with all thought this woman was crap, but, Neil's friend Howie ended up going on a trip with her (she invented a reason she had to go with him). Somehow they ended up in Howie's hotel and the woman was trying to get him to fuck her. Howie refused to fuck her, since she was a good friend's wife (and, probably because she wasn't very attractive) but then Neil told me "Howie finally let her give him a blow job so she would leave his room".
I thought it was funny that Howie said that he didn't have sex with this woman, but that he let her give him a blow job. I can think of two guys who have used this excuse with me, and then, well, there's Bill Clinton.
I started to wonder why that might be...I guess if a guy isn't looking at you or making any physical contact with you it's okay in his mind to come in your mouth. From a female perspective that seems a little strange. If I had a penis I don't think I would go around sticking it into places with sharp objects. Guys aren't that smart or maybe they're just careless. Personally, I wouldn't let some guy anywhere near my clit under circumstances like that.
Then I started thinking if a guy ever asks me for a blow job, I'm going to question his motives. Does he want a blow job just to get off, or does he like me? Then I started thinking about how, if I don't want to have sex, I always find it easier to give a guy a blow job than to have him poking at me demanding I pay attention to his penis.
In any case, girls out there reading, beware of giving guys a blow job. Thanks for ruining that for guys, Neil!
Friday, May 22, 2009
paint vs. stain
This guy who's new to selling the software product I support sent me an email last week asking to audit my class. I was like sure, what's one more rabble rouser.
I'm glad he came to my class. I'll call him S. S is from Lebanon, so right away we had a lot to talk about because I am fascinated by the middle east. I didn't even rip his head off too badly when he started dissing the jews (I just saw a documentary about the golan heights, yeah, I kind of see some of his points). S took me to dinner for helping him and we had many interesting discussions over the course of the evening. It's funny that we were looking for a bar to go to and we both wanted to find a place quiet enough to talk. That's not my usual MO for people I'm hanging out with. I usually don't talk much at all when I go out.
I found out how S met his wife. We discussed persian music, babies (he has a three year old), what he thinks is wrong with me (he has a minor in psychology), middle east politics, political prisoners, torture, enterprise architecture, wines, how to illegally ship a laptop over seas, Greece, diving, bungee jumping, and our favorite place to vacation (Lebanon for him, Turkey for me).
Then I started thinking about how I never go out (S said that's kind of fucked up, but, given my track record, I think the world is safer when I'm at home). But I don't go out that much because I feel weird. With S I was comfortable. We could get into a political argument (he started defending the palestinians and I was like don't EVEN go there with me) and it was fine. We had a conversation about ideas instead of the usual gossip. I was reminiscing about Greece, and he was reminiscing about coming to the US and ending up in, of all places, fucking Nebraska, and having drinking buddies there, and he said to me "A true friend sees you through hard times when you are down. Most of friends are not like that". I was thinking about chemo days and I said "Friendships, for the most part, are like paint. They chip with wear and tear. Most of my friendships are like stain. They'll always be there."
The next day, when I got to my classroom, S had done research at my company (he's worked there for 10 years) on how I can publish a book and get my company to pay for it. He contacted people he knows to inquire about the best way for me to write a technical book, and what the best topics would be. In turn, I had made him a CD of my favorite middle eastern music (I was disappointed to discover that some of it was religious).
Anyway, when I'm in Florida I am going to meet his wife and kid. On tuesday I'm introducing him to some consultants that can help him out. I wish every work relationship was like this. We're helping each other instead of trying to stab each other in the back to make a buck.
There was no point to this blog. I'm just waxing philosophical while getting drunk.
I'm glad he came to my class. I'll call him S. S is from Lebanon, so right away we had a lot to talk about because I am fascinated by the middle east. I didn't even rip his head off too badly when he started dissing the jews (I just saw a documentary about the golan heights, yeah, I kind of see some of his points). S took me to dinner for helping him and we had many interesting discussions over the course of the evening. It's funny that we were looking for a bar to go to and we both wanted to find a place quiet enough to talk. That's not my usual MO for people I'm hanging out with. I usually don't talk much at all when I go out.
I found out how S met his wife. We discussed persian music, babies (he has a three year old), what he thinks is wrong with me (he has a minor in psychology), middle east politics, political prisoners, torture, enterprise architecture, wines, how to illegally ship a laptop over seas, Greece, diving, bungee jumping, and our favorite place to vacation (Lebanon for him, Turkey for me).
Then I started thinking about how I never go out (S said that's kind of fucked up, but, given my track record, I think the world is safer when I'm at home). But I don't go out that much because I feel weird. With S I was comfortable. We could get into a political argument (he started defending the palestinians and I was like don't EVEN go there with me) and it was fine. We had a conversation about ideas instead of the usual gossip. I was reminiscing about Greece, and he was reminiscing about coming to the US and ending up in, of all places, fucking Nebraska, and having drinking buddies there, and he said to me "A true friend sees you through hard times when you are down. Most of friends are not like that". I was thinking about chemo days and I said "Friendships, for the most part, are like paint. They chip with wear and tear. Most of my friendships are like stain. They'll always be there."
The next day, when I got to my classroom, S had done research at my company (he's worked there for 10 years) on how I can publish a book and get my company to pay for it. He contacted people he knows to inquire about the best way for me to write a technical book, and what the best topics would be. In turn, I had made him a CD of my favorite middle eastern music (I was disappointed to discover that some of it was religious).
Anyway, when I'm in Florida I am going to meet his wife and kid. On tuesday I'm introducing him to some consultants that can help him out. I wish every work relationship was like this. We're helping each other instead of trying to stab each other in the back to make a buck.
There was no point to this blog. I'm just waxing philosophical while getting drunk.
dumb ass
People who forgot today is my birthday:
me
my mom, who is supposed to keep track of this stuff for me so I don't have to worry about it (hell, if I pushed 5 pounds or whatever I weighed (I was a preemie) out of my vagina, I think I would remember that day forever)
People who remembered (in order of appearance):
My co-author (hbd via Bob Dylan)
Trina (thanks for the ghetto bday wishes!!! that was the funniest text ever)
Glen-ski, my best friend from high school, how he remembers shit after all this time I don't know (sorry I made fun of you in NYC)
my brother Bob, who never remembers anything, including his own birthday (maybe because I just spent my birthday evening painting his house his brain did that thing where it actually thinks)
my old boss Barry (who called me two days ago to wish me hbd, and then called me today because he realized he called the wrong day, I actually feel guilty now that I purposely got the idiot admins on our project to put his name as "Berry" on all of his award plaques)
my sister's husband (though I suspect he was really calling me about the dogs, since I'm watching them this weekend)
my dad, who can't remember his birthday either (this could be a genetic thing, perhaps someone would like to do a scientific study on my family) - in fact, not only did he remember my birthday, but he also sent me a jewish cookbook (he said the recipes looked "easy" and I was like okay dude, you can cook one when you come visit me and he was like fuck that, we're going to order out) and a book on sharks (every shark in this illustrated masterpiece is shown ripping a hand or leg off of some unsuspecting swimmer)
Felty, the mail man stalker, who's question prompted this email
me
my mom, who is supposed to keep track of this stuff for me so I don't have to worry about it (hell, if I pushed 5 pounds or whatever I weighed (I was a preemie) out of my vagina, I think I would remember that day forever)
People who remembered (in order of appearance):
My co-author (hbd via Bob Dylan)
Trina (thanks for the ghetto bday wishes!!! that was the funniest text ever)
Glen-ski, my best friend from high school, how he remembers shit after all this time I don't know (sorry I made fun of you in NYC)
my brother Bob, who never remembers anything, including his own birthday (maybe because I just spent my birthday evening painting his house his brain did that thing where it actually thinks)
my old boss Barry (who called me two days ago to wish me hbd, and then called me today because he realized he called the wrong day, I actually feel guilty now that I purposely got the idiot admins on our project to put his name as "Berry" on all of his award plaques)
my sister's husband (though I suspect he was really calling me about the dogs, since I'm watching them this weekend)
my dad, who can't remember his birthday either (this could be a genetic thing, perhaps someone would like to do a scientific study on my family) - in fact, not only did he remember my birthday, but he also sent me a jewish cookbook (he said the recipes looked "easy" and I was like okay dude, you can cook one when you come visit me and he was like fuck that, we're going to order out) and a book on sharks (every shark in this illustrated masterpiece is shown ripping a hand or leg off of some unsuspecting swimmer)
Felty, the mail man stalker, who's question prompted this email
Sunday, May 17, 2009
tagged
Friday around 530 I went for a bike ride. I had the week from hell and figured it was time to stop working and get outside.
When I got back some little fucking fuck of a fuck tagged my garage door (and two others in my alley). It wasn't even a cool tag. It was the initials "DK" scrawled obviously by a little kid (judging from the height). I was fucking PISSED. On top of everything ELSE I had to do this weekend I now had to take care of that.
I went to home depot Saturday and this really nice guy greeted me at the door. I asked if they had something to remove graffiti. The guy showed me this spray and we chatted about this fucking kids tagging our houses. He has gotten the same tag that I had on the side of his house. I told him if I caught the kid I was going to break his fucking spray finger. The guy laughed and then said to call him because he was going to kick the kid in the nuts.
I got home and decided to start my other little project before I cleaned the graffiti, mostly because I realized I didn't have any paint to touch up my garage door. I lent it to my next door neighbor before he moved and the fucker never gave it back. My other project was to sand down and restain this lingerie chest I have in my room. I've been meaning to do it forever but just got around to it.
That project ended up being a disaster. I realized someone (likely my ex-boyfriend) took my sander (I don't blame him randomly, he took almost all of my screwdrivers, which were new) so I had to get another one. Then I got this stain with polyurethane in it that sucked. I called my friend Neil and texted my co-worker Jamie to find out why the stain wasn't sticking. Neil told me to resand, get a new stain, and start again, which I did, and now the lingerie chest looks just like I wanted it to.
Back to the graffiti, I opened my garage door and started to read the directions on the graffiti cleaner. This guy walked up to me and said his name was Robert. He's worked for the city of Denver for 18 years, building and rebuilding low income housing. He was the NICEST guy and he helped me clean my garage door (maybe he was afraid of a girl with a spray paint can). His house gets tagged all of the time too and he said he wakes up at random hours of the night to try to catch the kids, but he hasn't yet. He lives in this big, really nice Victorian a few streets over. It's all white so the kids are constantly tagging his walls.
Then this guy who lives behind me, whom I've never met before, but I see him when I'm riding my bike, came over and said "I just wanted you to know that I didn't do that and my brothers didn't do that". He has three younger brothers that I some times talk to when I'm out walking.
We talked about the graffiti problem for a while, and the guy who lives behind me said he would try to find out who's doing it. I said "bring the kid to me, I'll have him arrested". The guy said "How about if I just beat him up instead?" I was like hmm. Then I said no, because even though I like the idea right now of him getting beat up, if it really happened I would feel bad.
Kind of funny how nice everyone in the neighborhood was about my tagged garage. I was just thinking today that I wished we all talked more, and not just when something bad happens...
When I got back some little fucking fuck of a fuck tagged my garage door (and two others in my alley). It wasn't even a cool tag. It was the initials "DK" scrawled obviously by a little kid (judging from the height). I was fucking PISSED. On top of everything ELSE I had to do this weekend I now had to take care of that.
I went to home depot Saturday and this really nice guy greeted me at the door. I asked if they had something to remove graffiti. The guy showed me this spray and we chatted about this fucking kids tagging our houses. He has gotten the same tag that I had on the side of his house. I told him if I caught the kid I was going to break his fucking spray finger. The guy laughed and then said to call him because he was going to kick the kid in the nuts.
I got home and decided to start my other little project before I cleaned the graffiti, mostly because I realized I didn't have any paint to touch up my garage door. I lent it to my next door neighbor before he moved and the fucker never gave it back. My other project was to sand down and restain this lingerie chest I have in my room. I've been meaning to do it forever but just got around to it.
That project ended up being a disaster. I realized someone (likely my ex-boyfriend) took my sander (I don't blame him randomly, he took almost all of my screwdrivers, which were new) so I had to get another one. Then I got this stain with polyurethane in it that sucked. I called my friend Neil and texted my co-worker Jamie to find out why the stain wasn't sticking. Neil told me to resand, get a new stain, and start again, which I did, and now the lingerie chest looks just like I wanted it to.
Back to the graffiti, I opened my garage door and started to read the directions on the graffiti cleaner. This guy walked up to me and said his name was Robert. He's worked for the city of Denver for 18 years, building and rebuilding low income housing. He was the NICEST guy and he helped me clean my garage door (maybe he was afraid of a girl with a spray paint can). His house gets tagged all of the time too and he said he wakes up at random hours of the night to try to catch the kids, but he hasn't yet. He lives in this big, really nice Victorian a few streets over. It's all white so the kids are constantly tagging his walls.
Then this guy who lives behind me, whom I've never met before, but I see him when I'm riding my bike, came over and said "I just wanted you to know that I didn't do that and my brothers didn't do that". He has three younger brothers that I some times talk to when I'm out walking.
We talked about the graffiti problem for a while, and the guy who lives behind me said he would try to find out who's doing it. I said "bring the kid to me, I'll have him arrested". The guy said "How about if I just beat him up instead?" I was like hmm. Then I said no, because even though I like the idea right now of him getting beat up, if it really happened I would feel bad.
Kind of funny how nice everyone in the neighborhood was about my tagged garage. I was just thinking today that I wished we all talked more, and not just when something bad happens...
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