Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Oracion de Bernadetta van Dycia


Glorioso Apostol, San Judas siervo fiel y amigo de Jesus, ruega por mi, pues me encuentro desesperado en esta hora de gran necesidad. Socorrame visible y prontamente te premeto bendito San Judas recordar siempre este gran favor. Nunca dejare de honrarte como mi mas especial y poderoso protector, Amen.

La Vie en Noir



How was your Thanksgiving, dorklies? Mine was fucking fantastic. My roommate was out of town -- that wasn't why it was good, by the way; I'm just setting the stage -- and I just sort of...napped and watched movies and ate when I felt like it. I had invited a friend over to hang out, but she wound up passing a gallstone in the middle of a supermarket on Thanksgiving morning, and so understandably decided to give the festivities a miss. But no fear -- Doug and I held it down. We drank a lot of Budweiser, ate a lot of stuffing, then got quietly and nicely drunk on brandy while watching Lost. It was a very chill, very mellow, very nice holiday, kids. I heartily recommend it.

Um, I had another major breakdown this morning re: the diss...I won't go into it right now, because the minutae of my ills to date is far too convoluted to bother typing out. Suffice it to say that I had a very harrowing morning, but I got a little help from a lady missionary who played in the Salvation Army Band.

Anyway, thank God for good friends, and St. Jude candles, and 12 oz. cans of courage. Here's looking at you, bitches.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Wooden Crosses


RIP, Chris.

Chris Whitley, 1960-2005

Monday, November 21, 2005

You Gotta Be Kidding Me


All of you poor suckers who -- like me -- work on a cubicle farm, know the dangers of spending most of your waking hours with the living, breathing, germ factories we call our coworkers. Most of them spend time in CDC laboratories, I suspect; surely merely feeding, bathing, and clothing their snotty little children can't be enough to make them such disease carriers, can it? Perhaps it is. Anyway, I think I have strep throat, dorklies.

Cowboy Curtis and I think that's crap.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

My Other Boys



Thank You, Ladies...You Didn't Have To Say That



Oh, the lads in the picture below(and accompanying this post) are Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement, better known to us "insider bitches" as Flight of the Conchords. They did a kickass Edinburgh Fringe show (I hear), a hilarious BBC Radio 2 show (which I did hear, actually, and loved), and they're some kinds of alternative comedy darlings. They're from New Zealand.

If you are a LOTR fan (don't lie, you dorks), you'll know Bret better as Figwit. That fine motherf*cker on the left does lots of independent film work and after Idris Elba, Daniel Dae Kim, and Mark Lamarr (fooled you, Hendrickson!), he's my babydaddy.

What the Scientists Won't Tell You (But I Will)


After frying my brain in the midnight oil, I decided around 3 am to call in sick today. Which I did. And man, I sounded it, too. Years of riding the Camel(wide lights) have give me a stellar morning rasp, dorklies.

Anyway, after futzing around for the majority of the day, my beau and I went to get some pizza at around 240 pm...by which point I still hadn't injested any coffee for the day. A bitchcakin' headache was staring me in the face, but I headed it off with 16 oz. of premium Pabst.

I love living like a college student.

I'll be 31 in a month.

You Ain't Got Nothing


It's 2:09 am on Wednesday, 16 November 2005. I have to defend a dissertation in a month that a) is not complete b)is largely incomprehensible (the portions that are completed, that is) c) is inadequately-researched and consequently, poorly-argued.

Also, I'm not entirely sure that one of my committee members is still on board. If she is not, I have to enlist a last minute pinch hitter...and my work is not really of the quality which makes strange professors jump at the chance to be affiliated with it...

I haven't been getting much sleep the past couple of days. I've been eating a lot of cereal, though, which I find curiously comforting.

Anyway, this is just a note to myself to say "You're stronger than you think you are. You didn't run that danged marathon for nothing. Remember who was looking out for you then?"

Monday, November 14, 2005

That's What We In The Business Call "The Money Shot"

Work in Progress: Gesundheit

Most of you dorklies don't know this, but in my spare time (what spare time, I hear you ask? Well, my dears, between dusting myself with biscuit flour and singing in the choir, I don't have much spare time. You're right) I'm a comedy writer. And this post, penned by my very own personal Iron Giant, contains something that comedy writers like to call " a good payoff." I only called it "the money shot" in the title so that you would check it out, you pervs.

Friday, November 11, 2005

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Tittays and Poosays and Bootays


Short of writing x-rated stuff in my blog, I don't know how to get more readers, my dorklies. And I feel as if should court more readers, so that the pressure on you lovely people is lessened. I don't want you to feel burdened by the need to scan these humble lines and offer occasional commentary. It's too much for you. You damned apes.

Mama's a little hopped up on caffeine this morning, children. It happens periodically. Nothing to worry about; nothing to see here. But I needed something to get me going again after a couple of hours o' craplacaca out on the streets of pain this morning.

One would think that a town/state so accustomed -- particularly in the winter, which is also commonly referred to as "the rainy season" -- to a daily deluge would find its citizenry equipped to deal with the rigors of driving while it's wet out. But the grannies, daredevils, Looky-Lous, and assclowns on the streets this morning should all be stripped of their driving privileges! Or maybe not. Maybe I'm just crabby because the alternator on my car is shot, and I don't have the money to replace it. So, at the moment, I am just jumping my battery whenever the car doesn't start. Let me tell you something: being poor builds character, assholes. And it makes you social in a way you might not normally wish to be. I mean, if you have to ask each and every person at the gas station (where your car has most recently given up the ghost) if they have jumnper cables, you find out pretty quickly that most people are ok folks, and they would help someone out if they could.

The reason I was out at all this morning is because my evil genius roommate, who, like her wily weiner dog, believes that she is fooling someone with affection and enthusiasm but is really crapping in your room when you are not looking, talked me into driving her wack ass to work this morning! Now, those of you who watch this space know that I am currently not working on Mondays and Tuesdays so that I can work on the diss in the comfort of my quiet, empty home. Mondays and Tuesdays are Mama Time. And while it may take me a while to get going during the day, I normally get some crap turned out before turning in. But it is imperative that I be allowed to follow the beat of my own drummer, and fall into my day at my own pace. So, imagine my annoyance when, against a backdrop of thunderous rain, Bernie tries to convince me that I should drive her to work this morning, because she only has one working windshield wiper. I mean, of course, I want her to get to work safely. For fusk's sake. But man, I didn't want to go out in that crap any more than she did. Plus, because I'm not too sure about my car (see above), I didn't want to "waste" any start ups on trips down to SE Portland. But, on the crap-o-meter, "working windshield wipers + low battery power" beats "barely working windshield wiper + perfectly adequate battery power" during a bad rainstorm. Plus, The Bern picked me up for work Friday night when my car was not working at all, so I figured I owed her one more ride in the PoopMobile. Plus PLUS, we're both supposed to be phone-banking tonight at Planned Parenthood (down in the vicinity of her job) so, ecologically anyway, it made sense to take one car. Or it would make sense, if that one car wasn't mine. But hers doesn't have working windshield wipers. So we have to take mine. Only mine has a fucked alternator and may not start. So we should take hers. Only if it's still raining tonight and I have to pick her up I'll get into a fiery wreck and kill somebody on the streets of pain because this whole thing sucks! I hate my life!

Anyway, the only other thing to note is that I had very, very little gas when setting out to drop Bernie off, ok? And for Bernie, who is definitely reading this and getting steadily more defensive about the persecution she is sensing underlies this missive, I can only say that I am exxagerating some of my annoyance [but only some, mind you] for comedic effect. But seriously: no more of your "it makes perfect sense/ it's common sense. hey, I have an idea" bright ideas, ok? Because they always wind up biting me in the ass and making me talk to winos!

After fighting my way through the traffic all the way there (about 35-40 minutes) and fighting my way through the traffic most of the way home (another 35 minutes), I realized that I HAD TO stop for gas. Now, I was worried that my car wasn't going to start up again, but I had to risk it. After all, I figured that, after all that driving around, the battery should have a little bit of a charge in it, right? The chances were better it would start right back up again THEN, as opposed to LATER that night (when I have to pick up Her Royal Wackness for the phone banking). Well, I tossed the dice and came up snake eyes, dorklies. Turned off the car at the pump and that's all she wrote. A nice wino with a bag of half-eaten microwave popcorn kindly helped me push my car away from the pumps and into a parking space, from which another kind man eventually got my car to start.

I'm back home now, and I'm not looking forward to going back out there later. Obviously, I'm not chancing anything with the Poop Chute tonight, which means that I am taking Bernie's car, The Re-Jector. I can only hope that it's raining very heavily out there tonight and I get hit by a semi and die a quick death. Wish me luck!