January 2, 2002
Science class should not end in tragedy.
I love the Simpsons.
OK, so I'm back from my extended winter vacation. I really can't wait to sleep in my own bed again. I'm housesitting again, my lot in life, and I haven't been home in almost two weeks. I'm getting bored of all of this. I need to go home!! So, following is a short transcript of what happened during my trip. I only kept a few days worth of stuff, but I want to keep it somewhere, so now it's here. K?
- 23 December 2001
First of all, I must record this dream:
What I remember starts in a park in a city with skyscrapers surrounding it. It is heavily wooded. In one corner is a Shell gas station. I am running from giant apes in battle gear. They are hunting me down. (Give me a break here. I watched the remake of Planet of the Apes with Marky Mark last night...well not with him in the room, I wish. It was his remake.) Then I end up in the basement of a building where they crushed boxes. I am leaping up platforms à la Lara Croft when I hear KS and Matabang Kalabaw arguing. I try to hide, but MK finds me. She asks me what kind of document management system to use. I respond that Documentum was the only reasonable choice, satisfied that I have finally convinced her. Then she asks me about classes I am taking at university. I tell her I am in Buffalo (or it could have been Elephant) Hall.
Then I'm in front of the hall itself. I am running from a group of kids. I leave the campus trying to find somewhere to hide. After they pass, I leave my hiding place in an alley and start to run again. I think, "let me see if I can fly again." So I jump up and hold my body level with the ground, and sure enough, I fly down the street. It is a couple of miles before I land, and it is exhilarating. I stop on a bridge overlooking a lake-shore drive. I bump up against the railing to stop myself, and I hear RJ's voice in my head chiding me for such a sloppy landing. I turn around to see the very tall hill that I flew down. "That's where I came from," I marvelled looking up the hill.
Then I find myself in Liz's apartment. She married a wealthy man who had a nice apartment in the city. There are other people around me, one of whom is Angelica Huston who is naked doing some embroidery. Both she and Liz tell me that it would be OK if am naked, too, because at least then they will know I am not lying about anything. So we gather around her vast dining room table to embroider some more. I am given a section of pre-printed cloth. I am arguing with an old man at the table about whether I need scissors. I am adamant that I do not, and he tells me that to look at the design on the cloth. It is Howards End. I hear Liz's husband return, and I get up to put my clothes back on, and then I woke up.
So, now I'm at SFO, close to 6 a.m. I was three hours early and the lines inside are a mess. So I checked my bag at the curb, and here I am. I hope it makes it to my plane.
Buddy and Rosie fought and killed a raccoon the other night. They were pretty mangled up, both with cuts on their faces and front paws. Rosie had part of her ear bitten off and her left eye gashed. Now she's got built-in attitude. I feel bad for them, but they're by heroes because they killed the fucker. I hate raccoons.
plus tard
So, now I'm in the hometown. My mom's got a condo now, and it's a little weird. It's a nice place, but it's weird that I'm not staying in the house I grew up in...someone else is.
The flight from SFO to STL was first class ghetto. First of all, it was American with service by TWA. (I didn't know they merged.) Then, and I totally forgot about this, they only served a banana muffin, a cup of applesauce, and a mini-carton of orange juice that was completely frozen. I forgot that they had to cut back on their food budget because of the financial woes. Well, excuse me, but if I had known that, I would have gladly chosen to pay a little more on the plane ticket to get more than a damn muffin! The stewardesses (not good enough for "flight attendant" status) were pushy, loud, and rude. The flight was three and a half hours that felt like all day. STL to CID was much more enjoyable, only I had to endure an hour of high school reunion chit chat. Sat next to a cutie though. And he was looking.
I must sound like a bitch always having to "endure" those around me, but I'm just a private person who keeps to himself, and would hope that others would respect those wishes. Too much to ask? Trouble with that is that now I don't know how to act around other people, namely my own family. I have lost all of my social skills. J and I seem to have an unspoken understanding that we don't need to talk to each other constantly. Whatever. I am so tired.
Read Bloodsucking Fiends on the plane today, in its entirety. Farcical and humorous. Would have laughed only I was on a plane full of (uptight) strangers, and that would have been over the top.
25 December 2001
Joyeux fucking Noël!
What was it I said about having to endure people? Well, it applies to family equally. My little nephew is a brat. Can't stand him. Is that mean or what? But it's true. He whines and cries and it's just annoying. What a waste of a trip. Then my lovely b-i-l decides that he doesn't want to go to Chicago, so my spineless sister says that none of them will go. How fucking festive. It's not like I live across town or something. I probably won't be back for another four years and this is what I get.
My mother asked me if I thought Iowa was redneck. I never thought about it before, but after "careful" consideration, I would have to say that my jury is still out. Gotta get up, gotta get up, gotta get out of this place.... Now where did I put those dolls?
28 December 2001
And so it ends. This is my last night. Wednesday we stayed home all day and watched the tube. My darling wonderful sister gave me her cold, and added to the stress of flying and the extreme climate change (um, excuse the fuck out of me, but it was um, fifteen fucking degrees fahrenheit all week!!), I've been sick all week. Congested, coughing, fevers...and the dreams! I have the most intense and bizarre dreams when I'm sick. I'm feeling much better now, although my voice is still pretty gone.
Drove to Chicago on Thursday. That was nice. Spent the night. Aunt ME's 50th birthday. It was cool to see everyone again, and I don't know when I'll see them all after this. Possibly in July for the DIA thing, if RJ lets me.
Driving on the interstate with all the trucks made me horny something awful. There are some nice trucks out there, and some cute guys driving them. I have always wanted to do that, and now I don't know if it's a dream or a fantasy.
So I'm flying home tomorrow afternoon. What a long obnoxious day that will be.
So now, I'm housesitting. I got home late on Saturday. I had a three-hour layover in St. Louis. Gawd, don't ever get stuck doing that. Then it was a four-hour flight to SFO. And on this flight, all I got was a soda. No chips, no pretzels, just a soda. Thanks ever so.
When I got to SFO, I had to wait an extra hour before I could get my bags back. The baggage carousel was jammed for a half hour before anyone figured it out. Then I had to wait until it was fixed. In-com-pe-tent.
Sunday, I took R&W&P to the airport. They went to San Diego for New Year's. They flew out of OAK. So I got to drive the new Range Rover, in the rain, but it was really nice. Nice car. Love that.
Monday, it didn't rain, it was sunny and kinda warm, so I thought I would take the Miata into the City to get my mail. Put the top down and drove into Colma to BART in. I put the top back up, and in doing so, I got the back window zipper stuck. It wouldn't close. So, instead of leaving the car with a window open at Colma and driving into the City, I put the top back down, turned around, and went back to the vista point at 280 again. I'm so lame. What difference would it make? Whatever. I'm glad I did though. I met this really nice guy there. His name is Kenn (two n's), and he took me back to his office in Redwood City for a quick fuck. No one else was at his office so it was easy...as easy as I am. He's a babe, why would I pass it up? Then he took me on a brief tour of Atherton and the house he's buying there, and all of the neighbors' houses, too. I didn't know if he was bragging or making it all up, but he seemed genuine, and he had the keys to the house, so I'm guessing that he was real. He lives in San Jose now, and he's giving up seven acres for two and a half in Atherton. OK.
So, I drove the car back, I love that thing. It's a '92 which is why it has the plastic back window. The new ones don't. I am definitely getting me one of the new ones, blue please. How can you not love a convertible in California when it only rains one or two months out of the year? Anyway, I was really freaking out. I tried to get the window to zip up, but it was jammed in one place. I knew it was going to rain hard that night, so I freaked. I pulled so hard on the damn zipper, I have blisters on my finger. Loooong story short, I finally got the damn thing shut, and it's all fine and dandy. Just don't tell anyone. I have been given free rein over their house and cars, and I want them to continue to think that I'm competent and responsible.
Why is this so damn long?
So now it's Wednesday, the second day of 2002. They're all coming home tonight. I'm not going home until Thursday night.
That's all.
