because i'm not eight

halloween is a fun holiday...for kids and gay men. other than that, i really can't stand it. adults in costumes at halloween parties depress me. i'm sure this means i'm not in touch with my inner costume, or some such thing. but i'm okay with it. what depresses me is when people's costumes are so transparent. 9 times out of 10, if a woman is a cat for halloween, she's a slutty cat. if she's a witch, it's a slutty witch. any chance to really slut it up and call it a halloween costume. i'd rather wear comfortable clothes and just be a slut in the boudoir. then you've got the straight men who dress up as women with some sort of violent twist to it. the irony of the taking off masks by wearing masks freaks me out.



the worst part of this is that people who love halloween get outraged when i'm not dressed up. "how come you're not wearing a costume!? this is halloween!!!" i want to say, "i'm not wearing a costume, because i'm not eight." but i don't want to be a killjoy. more power to the folks who are into it, and really dig duding themselves up as a bloody prom queen or some such thing. but it's not for me. so i say, "oh...i'm just not that into getting dressed up on halloween." then i get yelled at more for being the halloween scrooge. all the whos in whoville get pissed off at me.



the trick-or-treating...sort of fun, but kind of weird. knocking on doors asking for candy is kind of odd. don't we teach kids to not accept candy from strangers? don't get me wrong- i love candy. i just don't want to have to dress up and beg for it.



it's tricky because i love pumpkins and autumn and colorful leaves and reeses peanut butter cups, and little kids wearing big curly wigs, so i want to like halloween. but my favorite thing about it is that when it's here, it means that it's almost over.

mr. shoes and mrs. bull

i took a sick day because i'm sick of going to work. that's kinda like when people are on seafood diets...when they see food, they eat it. in other words- comic genius.



i'm on my back porch noticing that all my plants are dying. bummer. guess they were indoor plants, afterall. the neighbor's cat, mr. shoes, just beat me in a staring contest. but trying to beat a cat in a staring contest is like trying to beat jewel in a yodeling contest. the odds were stacked against me. holy crap- i was just almost attacked by a squirrel. and by attacked i mean that it ran up to me and then ran away. it's animal planet in my own backyard. now squirrel is holding his own in a staring contest with mr. shoes.



i'm listening to "stardust" by willie nelson. one of about 6 random purchases i made at ameoba the other day. i'm quite happy with all my picks. carly simon's greatest hits. wow. carly. you rule. i would've thought that with harmonizing like that, she and james taylor would've lasted. mock. YEAH. ing. YEAH. bird. YEAH. yeah. YEAH. that stuff is great. then we have ELO's greatest hits. why did it take me so long to get this disc of wonder and joy? electric light orchestra...you complete me. then i got "pure ella" mostly for mack the knife, but the rest of it is great too. and finally, magnetic fields, "69 love songs." i recommend this to everyone. hilarious and catchy tunes. it's kind of johnny cash meets they might be giants. that would've been great if johnny cash actually met they might be giants. "particle man prison blues."



in other music news, kris, colleen and i went to the bridge school benefit on saturday. it started out as one of the worst concerts i'd ever attended and ended up to be one of the best. we had lawn seats and it was raining. that's always good fun. but what makes it better is when there's a gaggle of high school kids standing up right in front of you, so you can't see a damn thing. and what's even better than that is when the speaker on your side is blown out so all you can hear is the sounds of high school kids being awkward. we grew tired of watching ben harper lip synch to the sounds of pre-pubescent giggling, so we moved to the other side. it was a whole different world over there. we could see everything and hear the music. amazing. plus...the nicest fitty in the world was sitting next to us. a fitty is someone who's in their fifties and is very cool. this fitty was by himself- the wife stayed home because of the rain. but nothing was gonna stop this guy from hearing some live music. the fact that he's a high school science teacher was evident from his stache to his sweatpants.



the rain stopped and the real fun began. red hot chili peppers sang "brandy" and it was excellent. it took me back to danny's first gig at the pig and whistle. anyway...rhcp were followed by the one and only tony bennett. it's now clear to me why people spend out the ying yang to see him in vegas. the guy is awesome. and it's not just because i have an (arguably bizarre) affection for old folks. tony is smooooth. "i left my heart in san francisco" was particularly moving. then we had neil young. one of my top 10 favorite sounds in this big 'ol goofy world is the sound of neil young playing guitar and harmonica at the same time, live. note to self- complete the rest of my top 10 favorite sounds list. neil, with his thinning grey mullet, and flannel shirt, just rules. and it ended with paul mccartney. well, crud...that guy is good. he should maybe get some other guys together and form a band or something. paul played many of the songs i wanted him to play and didn't waste our time trying out new stuff. the whole show ended with everyone coming back out for "hey jude." that na na na na na na na stuff is great- especially when 22,000 people are singing it together.



let's get back to my bizarre affection for old folks, shall we? i went on vacation with 13 elders and a few volunteers. we stayed at a really nice lodge on the coast near pescadero. i'm talking aveda products in the bathroom type nice. the slogan for this place is "slow to the pace of nature." well, when you're with a pack of old people, nature is screaming "please hurry the hell up." if i walked any slower, i would've fallen down or been going backwards. we got there on sunday afternoon and after settling into the rooms for what seemed like a year or two, we went to dinner. lovely conversation had by all, until mia began freaking out that the roast beef was too tough and demanded a new one. that wasn't enough, so she started yelling something about apple pie versus ice cream. i got so tired of her treating the nice waitress like shit, that i had a minor freak out. my only one of the trip, so that was good. i believe i said, "i would've thought that at some point in the last 92 1/2 years, you've would've learned the words please and thank you. why are you being so nasty to this nice woman?" lottie yelled, "AMEN, MARY!" and then some chaos ensued.



the next morning, i went to check on mrs. bull, who is pushing 94. after about 5 minutes, she opened the door and said, in her thick jamaican accent, "oh dear...your timing is perfect." oh yes...perfect timing. just in time for her to drop her towel so i could put her ben gay patch on her lower back. i couldn't have timed it better. she was so thankful that she gave me a special gift. "this is only for special people" she said, as she sprayed a few ounces of her old lady perfume all over my neck. "you can only get it in jamaica." i think jamaica could smell me from pescadero.



that afternoon we had a bbq and some horse and buggy rides. leonka, who has had quite the spicey life, was getting on the buggy. she lifted her leg and yelled, "shit! if i can get my leg this high, then maybe i can get laid!" then she turned to me and said, "just kidding. i lost my libido years ago." this is the same woman, who after having surgery in which a screw was put in her back, sent her doctor a card that said, "thanks for the best screw of my life." this was all while dede was trying to get a splinter out of her finger, by digging at it with a dirty tack. and 93 year old ben was flirting with the 40-something buggy driver. she was not just humoring him- she was flirting for real. i don't blame her- ben is a stud. but he's already got himself a 63 year old girlfriend that he's considering moving in with.



our trip to the monterey aquarium was a test of patience, to say the least. i asked leonka many times if she wanted a wheelchair because there would be lots of walking. she said no way, her walker was fine. so...she and i were walking around together (while i was supposed to be keeping track of a couple other more mobile folks). i walked up to the shark tank and about 30 seconds later turned around to say something to leonka. she had put the seat of her walker down, and was sitting on it, fast asleep. i gave her a few minutes and then woke her up. she immediately said, "oh darlin! look at that sea turtle!" and then fell right back to sleep.



even though she's a bit old and slow as molasses, i think i may write mrs. bull in for president. she knows where it's at. people were bitching about politics and the state of our world. mrs. bull, said, in her very regal way, "we must pray." i was expecting a monologue on the power of prayer and jesus and the like. she said, "we must pray to god and ask him to be with the voters. he must tell them, "don't be stupid. vote for mr. kerry." she also said that we must pray to god that those damn yankees lose. so...so far her power of pray is working well. mrs. bull said to me, "do you ever see these people cheering for george bush and think, "this world is fulla fools. they must not know what it's like to really live." then she made me steal her 2 pumpkins from the lawn of the lodge. she wanted me to steal a wheelchair from the aquarium but i couldn't do it. and then i almost killed her. she was sitting in the passenger seat of my car and asked me to recline her seat a bit more. so i just leaned over and pulled the thing and she went flying all the way back. i laughed hysterically and she said, "oh no...you tryin to get me to kick the bucket." i said, "yeah...i hear ya have a lot of really nice clothes." she said, "oh mary...we raisin cain in here." yup...we're a regular thelma and louise. now sit the hell up, mrs. bull.



we were driving up route 1 on the coast and mrs. bull asked me, "do you believe in god?" i said that i think i do. sometimes i wonder. she said, "well look at the vast ocean. how can you look at that and not believe in god?" she has a point. then she told me that if she ever sees her bishop again, she's going to punch him in the face. long story about how she gave her life to that church and then they didn't come through when she was sick. "but, he's just a man. he's not god. that's the problem with our world- people get in positions of power and they lose all humility and think they're god. i wrote the bishop a letter saying that i know what the his problem is- it's the color of my skin. it doesn't bother me- it shouldn't bother him. so, i stopped going to church because i don't like hypocrites. god forgives me- he understands that i'm doing my best." like i said, mrs. bull for prez.

the 3-day

nothing makes me feel like part of the workforce more than the 3 day weekend. i’m a sucker for the pre-3-day chit-chat. each morning i exchange pleasantries with isa, the owner of the coffee cantina, the coffee shop near my office. as soon as i reach the top of bush street, sweating from the nearly vertical ascent, isa spots me and begins pouring my large regular coffee. as i hand him my exact change we commiserate on the atrocity of having to be up so damn early. but not on the friday before a 3-day. on that special day we celebrate. “how are ya, isa?” “can’t complain…we’ve got 3 days off!”, he’ll say. “i know! can you believe it?! 3 days!!" i gleefully yell. but the 3-day does not come without responsibility. responsibility to experience the most relaxation, productivity, rejuvenation and happiness possible. the pressure is on. this labor day weekend was no different. it began on friday evening at zeitgeist. what better way to start things off than to sit at an outdoor bar with friends, drink some hefeweizen and debate who has the wackiest co-worker, all while occasionally making eyes at a mildly attractive bike messenger? professional by day, young and alive by 5pm. the nights were made for michelob. relaxation beginning. i’m right on track. saturday morning i woke up early, partially because, sadly enough, i can’t really sleep late anymore. and also because how can i have a productive 3-day if i sleep it away? china and i spent the greater part of the day apartment hunting. the highlight of the day was when we realized that deena, the owner of the cute house in glenview, was positive that we were a committed lesbian couple. we went with it, because it made us seem more stable than we actually are. eventually we got too sweaty and tired to apartment hunt, so went to lake merritt and had mexican food. when in doubt, eat some marinated pork. nothing says 3-day like celebrating carnivorous eating. so…not the apartment hunting productivity i’d hoped, but the attempt was there. because i woke up so friggin early, i was tired by 9pm and couldn’t get myself to do much other than watch “return to paradise” on dvd. it met the “catch up on rest” requirement of the 3-day. plus, vince vaughn is hot. then, suddenly it was sunday morning. sunday of the 3 day…a time to reflect on where we’ve been and where we’re going. as i sat and waited for china to finish making us pancakes and pineapple/coconut/mango compote, i reflected on the weekend. first i thought, wow…maybe we are lesbians.” then i thought, “do i need to relax more? rejuvenate more? be more productive?” i was having trouble figuring it out, because the intense heat in my apartment had rendered me incapable of thought. so when kristen called and suggested going to the beach, i happily agreed. yes, the beach. what’s a 3 day without a trip to the beach? i packed my bag with sunscreen, the two magazines we had laying around (“o” and “stuff”), and was ready for an intense relaxation session. another common ingredient of the 3-day, particularly when it’s a hot weekend, is movie-going. it is usually preceded by at least 23 minutes of indecisiveness among friends. “what do you wanna do?” i don’t know…it’s so hot out. “yeah, i know. i don’t really feel like going out.” “yeah…me neither.” then, finally someone just takes the plunge and suggests the movie, as if the idea hadn’t occurred to anyone else. “i don’t know….should we see a MOVIE?” and then more indecisiveness inevitably follows. “whaddya wanna see?” china, makeba and i decided on “before sunset” at the embarcadero. a perfect choice. aside from the stinky guy sitting in front of us, we all thoroughly enjoyed the movie. in true female fashion, we spent a good hour dissecting it- from the way julie delpy talked to her cat, to what’s going on with ethan hawke’s shoulders and then, like all our conversations, ultimately relating things to our own relationships and solving the words’ problems. yes…this 3 day is right where i want her. then monday morning came. the final day of the 3-day. again, i woke up early. i laid in bed thinking, “i can’t let a whole 3-day go by without a good work-out.” plus, i realized that the ½ marathon i signed up for is just over a month away and i haven’t run much in weeks. what better time to kick off the intense training than on the monday of the 3-day? well, it was so damn hot out and there was barely a breeze at the berkeley marina, where there is ALWAYS a breeze. after 2 miles i decided that running was a bust and i went home, defeated and very very hot. 3-day…forgive me for failing you. i’ll make it up to you by preparing for our move and productively cleaning shit out. i began with a stack of papers on the shelf above my computer. i quickly discovered the little piece of paper listing the bon jovi song parodies about porn that nuno and I wrote a couple years ago. “never say goodbye” was “please don’t jiz my eye.” “you give love a bad name” was “you’re too good at this porn game.” suddenly, i realized that my attempt at organizing my paperwork was futile, so i moved on to the kitchen. just as i was about to tackle the cabinets, my phone rang. saved by the bell. it’s such a beautiful day that i shouldn’t spend it inside. that would really be wasting the 3-day. so instead, i met remy in hayes valley for iced tea and fries with balsamic mayo and we overanalyzed all things big and small. and now here i am. monday night of the 3-day. just me and joni mitchell, singing loudly. the 3-day in review… no apartment was found. not much exercise was accomplished. cabinets are a mess. a slew of goals left unmet…the 3-day is complete.

smelly corns and springsteen

it's been happening for as long as i can remember. i very occasionally get this weird taste in the back of my throat. just a very faint sign of what's to come. sometimes the taste goes away and i forget about it for a while. then later, i suddenly have the urge to cough. and it happens. the birth of a tonsillolith. that's what the doctors like to call it, but i prefer to use the technical term, "smelly corn." it looks like a little piece of corn and it smells like a skunk's ass. just awful. for years i thought i was alone in my smelly corn production. but then i began to tell my story. i have since found many who share this talent. yes, talent. i pity those who have never had the perverse joy of coughing up a smelly corn. you smelly corn producers know what i mean. you smell the thing with a balance of disgust and pride- pride in your ability to produce something so jam-packed with foul odor. sometimes just smelling it isn't enough, so i like to take a tissue and squish it so that it emits an even worse odor. i then usually sing a round of, "smelly corn...smelly corn...what are they feeding you?" a friend (and fellow smelly corn producer) recently sent me this link: http://www.tonsilstones.com. the site has info on how to prevent these stinky little monsters from forming. WHAT? what happened to nature taking its course? what's next? preventing belly button cheese? sometimes i amaze myself with just how jersey i truly am. sure, i worked at the rockaway mall. yeah, i like the sopranos. of course i love eating funnel cake on the boardwalk at the jersey shore on a summer night. that's just basic. but nothing and no one makes me want to march in a new jersey pride parade more than bruce springsteen. my love of the boss began in the summer of my seventh year. much of my childhood was spent coming up with any reason i could to hang out with my older brothers. when i heard my brother tom's guitar strum the tune of "smoke on the water" i'd rush to the basement door, quickly brush off my holly hobbie robe, regain my composure and act cool as i slowly wandered down the puke-green wooden stairs. "hey guys...dad needs the hammer." i took my time choosing just the right hammer from the work bench and then slowly ascended the stairs, all the while soaking in every word they exchanged like a sponge. two minutes later, i'd be back down. now it was tom's friend mike singing "i can see for miles." my timing couldn't have been better. "hey guys...dad's done with the hammer." then it occurred to me- i needed to come up with more reason to hang out in the basement. that's when i decided to begin a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle. it was a nature scene that was almost entirely brown, indicating that it could take the better part of the summer to complete. i carefully spread the pieces out on the ping-pong table and got comfortable. a few days into "project use puzzle to spy on brothers", it was clear that there wasn't going to be a whole of traffic coming into the basement. i recalled my research on junior high boys in their natural habitat and realized that the cure for boredom was to put on music and nod the head in approval of the jam. i walked over to the enormous basement stereo with the three huge dials and 8-track deck, and accessed my options. i glanced at the 8-tracks that were laying on the table next to the chemistry kits. "queen's greatest hits." "the doors." "the grease soundtrack." bruce springsteen, "darkness on the edge of town." i already had the grease soundtrack memorized so i figured i'd try out springsteen. before i had even assembled the frame of the puzzle, i had discovered that my new favorite song of all time (beating out "someday, little children" from the sesame street album) was "candy's room." "yes bruce", i thought, "there IS a sadness hidden is this pretty face. bruce, you totally get me." so now, 24 years later, i own practically every springsteen album ever produced and am counting down the 29 days until i see him live for the second time. the puzzle will be complete.

why'd i have that donut?

i never met a donut that i didn't hate in the morning. they always seem like such a great idea. the smell of freshly baked lard, the glistening glaze calling out to me. "eat me." so i do. the first bite is delicious. and then, about midway through, i think, "i probably shouldn't finish this thing." but then those sprinkles stare up at me with their puppy dog eyes, and i can't resist. so then, 10 minutes later, i feel like ass and rue the day they were born. we had donuts at staff meeting this morning. i tried to counterattack with an apple, but that just made things worse. apparently, an apple a day does not necessarily keep the doctor away if that apple was preceded by a few donuts. aren't you thrilled that i created this blog? i clearly have such important information to share. my journal was beginning to feel lonely and unread. so here you have it. a place for me to complain about things that aren't that important and laugh about things that aren't that funny. another complaint... strangers who, when i'm just walking along minding my own business, say, "smile...it's not that bad!" i always feel the urge to respond with something that is indeed THAT bad. "thanks, caleb" (they're usually named caleb- at least in my mind). "i guess you're right...losing my entire family in a fire and just being diagnosed with a terminal illness isn't THAT bad. i mean, if we're comparing it to something like...debra messing's acting ability. now that's BAD! thanks, man! i mean, i thought i just wasn't smiling because i don't know you and i don't owe it to you to seem happy at every f-ing moment, but you've really taught me a lot with those five precious words. i better let you get back to jamming on your bongos." i'm addicted to "queer as folk." i blame this addiction on netflix. as for my addiction to netflix, i guess i'll just blame that on my mom. when in doubt, blame it on your parents. you'd think that living in the bay area would provide all the gay drama a gal needs, but apparently not. i am joneseing to watch brian be a complete ass. then i yell at the screen and wish he was my boyfriend. shit, do i have penis envy? this blog is making me come to some difficult conclusions. enough for today.