Thursday, August 15, 2002

Song for Dawn
D- is for the way you make me laugh
A- is for the way you kick my ass
W- has no business being here and makes no rhyming sense whatsoever
N- doesn't either, but it's late, and I love you and can't wait to come party with you and who needs more than that?
A momentary break in programming:

R.W. Texan is threatening to shut down his blog. It's mucking with his golf game. Go over there and tell him to get real and shut up and leave the goddamn blog up. He's just one seriously hot old dude and even though I'm not whatcha call a rightwinger I like some of the things he has to say and the way he says them. Dude has spent some serious time in Saudi Arabia. Go read it. Now, dammit.

I'm ready to stalk his ass if necessary.
26. My favorite TV channels are Animal Planet and the Food Channel.
27. Although I have this really sick addiction to the childbirth show on Discovery Health.
28. I think George Clooney would be really hot in bed.
29. Mostly coz I think he giggles a lot and is really sweet.
30. Could be wrong.
31. My fave stuff to sing in the big band I'm in is Rosemary Clooney stuff.
21. First concert I ever went to was the Carpenters. I love them, always did, always will, make fun if you will.
22. First album I ever bought was the Donny Osmond album. Make fun again if you will.
23. Talked to Alan Osmond on the phone a dozen or so times.
24. He called me.
25. Company I was working for was doing videos for pop stars and he was interested in producing some of it.
Just coz I'm bored to tears, and my Persian Jew luv hasn't called me yet tonight, let's start with this week's 100 things.

1. I slept in a lighthouse once, on the north shore of Prince Edward Island.
2. Woke up the next morning to the sound of baby seals or otters or something playing outside on the sand underneath us.
3. They sounded like a bunch of puppies.
4. I haven't left the house all day.
5. I had a fever.
6. But I'm feeling better, thanks.
7. My first instrument was the accordian.
8. Mom told me once that the definition of "lady" included a woman who could play the accordian, but didn't.
9. I can play banjo too, but I haven't in a long time.
10. I went to the Alabama Department of Unemployment Insultation the other day.
11. I think the alleged woman who filled out my paperwork was actually Damon Wayons in his "World's Ugliest Woman" drag.
12. She was really stupid.
13. Took her forever to write down my frigging name.
14. If she's an example of what passes for employable these days, I'm safe.
15. I'm having lunch tomorrow with my friend Potjie.
16. He's really cool.
17. He makes me laugh.
18. We need to find him a girlfriend.
19. He's way too good for anybody in Alabama.
20. Except for maybe me, but I like him too much to make a pass at him.
My new little baby bichon frise seems to think that the computer keyboard is an enemy that must die. Every time I begin to type, he jumps up in my lap and sniffs it and growls in a really sexy way.
What is it about Thursdays that makes me want to curse like a fucking sailor? Fuckity fuck, FUCK!
This whole thing about Mac users being a bunch of poo-heads is wringing me raw.

I speak Apple, MS, Linux, Unix, with equal ease. I have never understood the point of name calling or pissing contests over one or the other. I use what's available and useful in a given situation. The politics of the companies in question mean nada to me. Somebody goes out of business, I find something else to use. Or not. Big Fucking Whoop. We all lived without computers once, and we'll probably do it again one day.

But that's just my incredibly feverish and irritable opinion.
How lucky I am to have spent the last 11-1/2 years sleeping next to a coyote.

Bingo has the most beautiful long pointy face, slitty golden brown eyes, gentle slim feet, and a bushy tail that makes my mom's dachsund attack it as if it were a fucking squirrel the original axis of evil.

He sings, anytime he hears the siren's song. I remember once, when Dirk and I lived together, when Bingo and his sisters woke us up in the middle of the night, sitting under the kitchen window, a trio in formation, singing to the moon in perfect doggy blissful harmony.

They were all three very pissed that we disturbed them.

He understands every word I say. He translates between me and the new puppy. He loves to dance. When I do aerobics ( a rare event) he joins right in. He loves to watch TV. When I fix his dinner, he does the twist, one, two, three times before he eats it.

He's really good at making his own thoughts clear -- change the goddam channel, feed me, rub me, are you okay, there's a cat out in the street, I need to pee pronto, stuff like that.

He came to me as the result of a tryst between a female coyote and something brave -- don't know what, but I suspect it was a shepherd-lab-husky something. I was in love at the time with "C", which is a whole story that I'll tell later. We were spending a lot of time in his cabin in the hills of Tennessee, and had the usual problem of wild thangs killing the chickens and so forth, so we put out these big pans of crappy dog food on the front porch. In no time we had coyotes, foxes, everybody eating that junk and passing out on the porch, and getting really comfy there. The chickens weren't even scared of them after a while.

In January of 1991, the battle of Baghdad began, and that night we heard this shreaking newborn puppy choir under the house. Later on we dscovered that one of the female coyotes that had hung out on our porch had given birth under there. About 8 weeks later the mama criter disappeared and I took a female puppy, Elsa, and my K9 male love of my life, Bingo. I've never had such wonderful, fun, happy, smart critters in my life, ever.

Else has gone on to the happy hunting ground. Bingo is passed out next to me as we blog. All curled up in a furry wild ball. If only I could find me a human guy like him.

Mmkay, so I'm as bored as hell. Unemployment sucks for so very many reasons.

So, my everlovin' bosom buddy singing partner earth-sister rebel-mama thespian-goddess who gawd wishes would portray her/him/it in the play "I Am That I Am And Let's Get D-o-w-n Tonight" Linda sends me this email:

Suggestions for the Bored to Death.

Pre-plan your funeral. (you might want to get right on this since Death by Boredom seems imminent)

Or - you could rearrange all your closets and color co-ordinate all of your clothes. Of course, separate them by seasons as well.

Comb and braid all of your nose and crotch hair.

Devise and practice your escape plan should your home suddenly be overrun with raccoons, possums, or, heaven forbid(!) really annoying people who only want to regale you with their latest conspiracy theories.

Speaking of conspiracy could start up your own cottage industry creating aluminum foil hats for "those in the know." Easily marketed via "blogs" or internet chat rooms, this is an inexpensive start-up business for the truly, deeply bored - yet creative individual.

I'll admit - these aren't the suggestions you might get from Martha Stewart, but hey - who wants ideas from a future jail bird?
Hey! Guess who's as old as Jeebus today?
Damn. Now I can't sleep. Somebody call me already.