Vegas, baby!

After a fairly grueling 10-hour drive through the state of California, I'm here in my room, waiting for a room service dinner to arrive. I am so completely tired, I don't know what I can do with myself tonight, other than shower and sleep.

It was an uneventful drive down. Well, it was windy as hell and there were stories of jack-knifed tractor trailers and multiple car collisions on I-15 in San Bernardino, but that's all. I got to I-15 east of SB, so I missed all of that. I was surprised (and scared to death) of all the semis that were swerving in their lanes. Normally they don't do that. The winds were pretty strong. And then it started to rain, well, drizzle, and only a little. It's still drizzling now. It's supposed to rain more on Friday.

So, I tested out my Bluetooth USB adapter (D-Link DBT-120) with my Pismo and my new phone. It's bloody slow compared to the DSL at home, but it works!! So now, if I buy a travel charger for my laptop, I can go virtually anywhere in the country with a signal and never be disconnected from the web again! I am dumbfounded at this technology. It's amazing. I love the 21st century.

I got a room on the third floor of the pyramid. I asked for higher, but apparently Christina thought I arrived too late in the evening to ask for anything special. And it's a non-smoking room. Pooh. You know, I only smoke in Vegas. Oh well. Maybe they won't notice.

That's all. Madonna is playing at the MGM Grand on 29–30 May. I would love to come back and see that. Have to check for prices and availability. She'll be in San Jose on 6 June, but I really hate the HP Pavilion, and it'll sell out like really fast, anyway, you know. I remember when her Blonde Ambition tour came to Shoreline in 1990. My dear friend Olah went to see her. I was a newbie in the navy at DLI, and I had no idea what was going on eventwise. In fact, at that point in my life, it never occurred to me to go to concerts of my favorite singers when they blew through town. Anyway, I have the movie Truth or Dare, and I think that fairly makes up for not seeing her live. I think I saw that like three or four times in the cinema (and dozens of times on video with Olah).

OK, really that's it. Bye. Beauty sleep calls so I can be fresh and presentable for my first meeting with Her Weddedness, the Princess.

Last Night

On my way home on Monday. I'll write all about it later. Loved it. Had a wonderful time. I'm moving to England for sure this time.

Long Story Short

What goes on in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

The wedding was beautiful. I cried just a teensy bit. Otherwise, I had a really great time meeting all of Clara and Rob's friends from England. I can't wait to go for a visit.

I'm working at a new contract now. So far it's slow, but I know it will pick up, and I know I will enjoy it. Lots of family, if you will.

I think I'll have the weekend to myself again. Roommate is supposed to be leaving tomorrow. That will be nice. We're not getting on so well anymore these days. Time to start looking for a new place to live...again.

I think the NSA for the USA is a whiny, impudent person. I think she sounds silly. Forget that she was provost at Stanford and all of that. I listened to part of her testimony this morning, and she sounded simply ignorant. Of course she's got something to hide. Of course she'll never say a disparaging word against her boss and best friend. Of course she's lying through her (buck) teeth. The whole thing makes me sick. Why is it that the people who live decent, upstanding lives have to suffer for the mistakes and greed of a select few? I know it's rhetoric, darling, I'm just looking for filler.

Internet Quiz (sans Kitty Butts)

I've been trying too hard lately to be clever or introspective. I always have a lot to say, and in this insecure moment, I can't bring myself to say it. I just feel like everyone is watching me...oh wait, that's paranoia, isn't it? Whatever, in the spirit of the purpose of having this page all to myself, I'm including this nice little internet quiz as found at cute Thomas's page, only I don't have a kitty whose butt I could show you, so you'll have to just do with the text. For now. Sorry.

• Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, find line 4. Write down what it says.
  ...and whatever toxic products they might make. Of course, the immune...
  8 Weeks to Optimum Health, Andrew Weil, M.D.
• Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you touch first?
  The wall.
• What is the last thing you watched on TV?
  "This Old House." They fixed up a really cool house in Bermuda that has an awesome kitchen, an infinity bathtub, and two spas!
• With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
  "Prairie Home Companion" on NPR only because I'm too comfortable to get up and change the channel. Sometimes the adventures of Guy Noir can be a little irritating, you know?
• When did you last step outside?
  I was outside all night...I mean, all morning...I mean, I think this question should read "when did you last step inside?"
• Did you dream last night?
  Of course. We always dream. Most of us don't remember our dreams, though. I am not one of those people, as perhaps you've read here or there. Last night I dreamt about Cher again. I don't know what it is with that woman.
• When did you last laugh?
  Sadly, I think it was yesterday when I was getting the 411, the QT, the low-down, etc., on one of the hotties where I'm working now. Did I mention that you can't throw a handbag in any direction without smacking a queen on the head? There are gay men all over the place! And they're cute! And friendly! I love this place. Please offer me a full-time job! OMG! How pathetic of me! See why I haven't been around lately?
• What is on the walls of the room you are in?
  Um, paint. This room was never meant to be used as an actual workspace. But it is now.
• Seen anything weird lately?
  Yeah, I saw a chick get slammed in the cab of a Ford F-150 at a vista point at like 1:30 AM. Perhaps, you don't want to know more than this.
• Tell me something about you that I don't know.
  I'm a nymphomaniac. Only on the weekends. A weekend nympho. Hee hee.

There. That should tide me over for a few hours.

Mutterings

1. Boxing :: for donuts
2. Lewis :: Lennox
3. Bodyguard :: Whitney Houston
4. Burnout :: I'm thinking work, but there's more to it.
5. Cruising :: Oh honey, I can't say that here.
6. Easter :: Eggs
7. AA :: Batteries
8. Research :: Assistant
9. Redemption :: California Redemption Value
10. Snickers :: Satisfies

Not very exciting today. I was out in the sun, down by the river, trying to avoid scary people. Why is it that the true freaks always look exactly like the freaks in the movies? I mean, does Hollywood get it right, or what? There was this guy out there today, driving a totally ghetto Ford Taurus wagon filled with stuff, no license plates. All the windows were blocked by boxes and newspapers and porn mags. I'm not kidding. When I first got there, the driver wasn't in the car. A few minutes later, the driver came back and I shit you not, it was Jame "Buffalo Bill" Gumb from Silence of the Lambs. I promptly got myself the fuck out of there. No need to tempt fate. Sorry to be so judgmental, but when you get that feeling up your spine, you'd best listen to it.

Monday Morning Rant

Why is it that every single radio station in the Bay Area has some stupid, inane talk show on in the morning? Where's the music? And on the one day that I forget my CD magazine at home, I am stuck channel surfing trying to find music. I find one station playing a song only to find that that's the "song of the day" for which one can win some silly prize, and they had to play it, like otherwise they would be talking about what their cats did over the weekend. Aw, how cute! I'm sick of NPR right now. All they do is talk about Iraq and the president, neither of which I give a rotten shit about. And classical, though I enjoy it, would not do for a commute. Whatever. I'm just bitter. And that's all for now.

So what do you think, you're Elvis or something?

I got an e-mail comment in reference to this post, and while I promptly deleted the comment and the e-mail and added the pud to my spam blacklist, I think I acted a little hastily. The author wrote: "Maybe cuz your a fag?" I'm assuming this is a reference to the dream of Cher that I had. Could be that I use "honey" a little too freely. And I have to admit that when I first read this, I thought it was from someone I knew, and then it occurred to me that no one I knew would call me a fag. Not that I care or anything. And after that, my mouth fell agape, and I was nonplussed. All I can say in response to this is: "Duh!"

And even before this response, I was thinking about why I like Cher so much, and perhaps also why I dream about her so much. I think she is a big, free spirit. I know she speaks her mind. I know she's opinionated. I know she doesn't put up with shit. She probably doesn't suffer fools gladly, either. I think that her boisterous and awesome personality is something that my own personality aspires to, and perhaps that's why I dream of her. People in your dreams often (if not mostly) represent aspects of your own self. So it could be that a part of me that wants to emulate Cher is longing to be set free. And if any of that is true, alls I got to say is: "look out."

And while I'm at it, I think I've figured out what I want to be for Halloween this year. I don't know why, but I love this song, and I love this video. Isn't her outfit just great? I love the whole ensemble, down to the boots. Love the billowing cape, the travel case, the gloves. I could lose the weight. I'd have to shave my chest to wear the top, though. I don't think I'd like that. I'll work on it.

You know something...

I think it's very odd being a new person in the workplace. I've had a lot of experience at this, recently, too. When you show up for the first week or so, people all over the organization slowly walk past your work area, soaking up all of the visual information possible and then quickly hurry on their way. And then, if they dare approach you for a conversation, they sometimes stare very intently, almost squinting, before they talk. There's one guy here who is kinda weird and who fits this bill to a T. He's a long-haired, hippy freak, and he talks very softly...and he talks to me like I intimidate him. Good, I guess. I'd rather it be this way than the other way round. I don't know why, though. I've never thought of myself as an out-going sort. But after he says what he has to say, he lingers just a little, and then shuffles quickly off. I'm not going to pay too much attention to that. I'm sure it's just an idiosyncracy, and heaven knows I'm full of them myself.

Happy Birthday

I'm sorry I keep forgetting this. It's my friend Skot's birthday today. He was the first civilian friend I met while I was in the navy at DLI in Monterey. He became my roommate and best friend when I was discharged. We sort of went our separate ways...well, there's no sort of about it. I moved up to the Bay Area, he stayed in Monterey, and we lost touch with each other. I think about him all the time, and how could I not? There's so much around me that reminds me of him. I doubt that he'd ever read this, but even still, it doesn't hurt to wish someone a happy birthday when it's their turn.

The Status Quo

This is just about as absurd as it really is now. I laughed because it's so true.

It's Friday

1. What do you do for a living?
   I am a desktop/electronic publisher for pharmaceutical submissions to worldwide regulatory agencies.

2. What do you like most about your job?
   I like the people I work with. For some reason, I get a real kick out of correcting grammar and punctuation in other people's documents. Maybe it's an ego thing, I don't know, but replacing two hyphens with an em-dash is a thrill, adding a non-breaking space between a number and its unit of measure makes me giddy. And I love being able to take a really homely, poorly formatted document and clean it up to make it look presentable.

3. What do you like least about your job?
   At this point, I can only complain about the possible lack of recognition for a job well done. But even this doesn't happen that often. I always complain about the long hours or the constant revisions, but as it has been said: "A bitching sailor is a happy sailor."

4. When you have a bad day at work it's usually because...
   I feel fat (sic), other people are staring at me, I'm having a bad hair/fashion day...it's all about me, you see.

5. What other career(s) are you interested in?
   Let's see: I wanted to be a radio dj for a long time, but I don't think I have the voice (or the sense of humor) for it. I've seriously considered OTR (long haul, over-the-road) truck driving (yeah, baby). I pursued a career in baking until I realized I couldn't afford the tuition to the California Culinary Academy. I would still like to be a sailor on a submarine. I have thought about work in the foreign service. I wanted to teach English as a foreign language in foreign countries until I realized that nobody would touch me until I had a BA, even though I have a fairly good command of my native language, if I do say so myself. I've thought that working on a cruise ship would be cool, you know, traveling the world, making up for the lack of navy experience, sex on the open seas, etc., but I've never got that far. There are so many things that I would love to do, but there just seems to be so little time in which to do them all as careers. I am craving stability right now, and switching careers just to experience all of that would throw me into chaos for sure.

Ooops.

Looks like I got out of there just in time. Probably not happening in Walnut Creek, but maybe. PeopleSoft is just down the road in Pleasantville...I mean Pleasanton.

Attagirl(s)

What kind of pleasure does one get out of doing something like this? And don't underestimate the power of girls.

Up Early So You Don't Have to Be

1. Virginia :: is for lovers.
2. Soft :: and sensual
3. Carol :: I'll take what's behind door number 3, please Monty.
4. Vanity :: Fair
5. Feminist :: Gloria Steinem
6. Alias :: What is it really about? Fashion? Espionage? Jennifer Garner, the new "It" girl?
7. Coward :: George W. Bush
8. Beer :: Anchor Steam
9. Chance :: If you change your mind / I'm the first in line / Honey, I'm still free / Take a chance on me...
10. Honest :: Abe

August Redux

OK, it's been a couple of days. I'm fighting with the boss man again, quietly and via e-mail, but still fighting. Seems that their company hasn't really grown up that much at all. One of the points re-iterated by the boss man since I rejoined their team was that the company is maturing and has learned some valuable lessons over the past six months or so. Well, apparently, paying the staff first isn't among those lessons. I get an e-mail from one of the three execs (in the company of four) that they'll have to discuss my paycheck in relation to the company's budget. Huh? And all this time, I thought staff payroll was considered overhead that was automatically paid regardless, you know, like rent or the PG&E. Must have been something I drank because they are telling me that they have to budget in my compensation for working very hard for them. And it must be something I smoked because I thought that all this time, it was my participation in their clients' workloads that was partially funding their company. And it must have been something I injected into my eyeball because I was under the impression that they had no external funding from VCs or Angels, and that every client and every project was valuable to the success of the company. And now they're telling me, in no certain terms however, that I'm working 40 hours a week to support their company, and they have to discuss whether I'm going to get paid or not. Hmmm. Maybe it's something I snorted, but I'm smelling a crook here.

I can't believe I fell for this again. Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me. I really am embarrassed by this. I trusted the man. I really thought that when he said he had learned something about running a business that he really had learned something. And when promised that we would not have another repeat of August–September 2003, and that payment would be made regularly and in full, I actually believed them. So he's a lying putz, and I'm the schmo who fell for it all. I'm almost too humiliated to post this, but I'll add this to the category of lessons I've learned along the way. And he sits in his corner office with a truly magnificent view of the bay and says to himself, "Yes, I'm the man. He should be thanking me for this opportunity."

Megalomania

Main Entry: meg·a·lo·ma·nia Pronunciation: "me-g&-lO-'mA-nE-&, -ny& Function: noun Etymology: New Latin 1 : a mania for great or grandiose performance 2 : a delusional mental disorder that is marked by infantile feelings of personal omnipotence and grandeur 3 : my boss - meg·a·lo·ma·ni·ac /-'mA-nE-"ak/ adjective or noun - meg·a·lo·ma·ni·a·cal /-m&-'nI-&-k&l/ also meg·a·lo·man·ic /-'ma-nik/ adjective - meg·a·lo·ma·ni·a·cal·ly /-m&-'nI-&-k(&-)lE/ adverb

Care of Merriam-Webster.

Cheerleaders

OK, so last night I had this dream. It was Kate Mulgrew playing DeDe Halcyon and an unknown actress playing her lesbian lover, D'orothea Wilson. They were re-enacting a scene from one of the Tales of the City books. Then, by the magical force of dream segues, I am climbing the stairwell of a parking garage in Las Vegas trying to avoid the LVPD who are chasing me down simply for being there. I meet a woman who urges me to turn myself in, lie to the cops, and get out of town before I end up in one of the many holes in the desert. Hmmm. But you should have been here the night before when an elegantly clad Bette Midler approached me at a swank party and said, "Darling, I have the perfect job for you. I was talking to [man's name I can't remember] who said there was an opening on the men's cheerleading squad at Yale. You really must check it out." I said, "Oh, of course! I was just talking with him." "Really," she continued, "you must go for that job!" If I were an artist, I would draw a picture of the superb outfit she was wearing in my dream, down to the matching pumps! I do people up real nice in my dreams, I tell ya. And that's not even to comment on the content or, perhaps, the message lying therein.

I got a reply to an angry three line e-mail that I sent out this morning. Apparently, all those drugs I was doing didn't really cloud up my understanding of the sitch. They just don't get it. I'm still embarrassed, and while they agree to pay me this week, that doesn't excuse the fact that they don't know how to communicate. All I needed was a reminder now and then. I don't need a dissertation or a tome. Leave all that writing to me; I'm a natural at it. I just need contact. Why is that so fucking hard, especially in a company of three people? Chicken shit skirt.

Furthermore, all you men out there, if your girlfriend can't do a decent braid for your long scraggily hair, a) get it cut the fuck off, b) have a professional do it for you, or c) get it cut the fuck off. There's another contractor in this office now who is walking around all butch and shit, like he has to differentiate himself from the rest of us (which he just might have to do considering the population). His ponytail braid is all gnarly, the rubberband obviously came out of the company supply cabinet, and he has attitude! *Shakes head* Whatever. I'm not a fan of long hair on men. I've noticed recently that buzzed heads catch my eye a lot faster than anything else. Buzzed and/or bald is sexy.

K, gotta go look for something to do.

No Porn on You

For lack of anything better to do or say, I found this little beaut.

Haven't Done This in a While

I taste like Menthol. I am refreshingly different; some people don't appreciate that. My sharp honesty gets up some people's noses, while others really enjoy it. I am something of an acquired taste. What Flavour Are You?

Spot on, yeah?

Hi there!

I had a nice weekend. It was hot as hell, in the 90s both days, in San Francisco, in April, hello, but it was relaxing and enjoyable all the same. Sunday, Roommate and I went over to the city along with half the population of California it seemed. We walked on Crissy Field, enjoying the sun and the sights. The beach at Crissy Field was absolutely filled with people. I'm not kidding, you could've been in Venice for all the people. All the shirtless men and their dogs. It was very nice, and subtly reiterating how much weight I need to lose before I can be comfortable in shorts again. My goodness, that makes me sound like a roly-poly, two-ton baker, which I'm not. It's just that when I was in high school, I rode my bike everywhere. As a result, I had really nice legs: strong thigh muscles, well-defined calf muscles, and Iowa is not flat, contrary to what anyone tells you. Since then, let's just say that my legs aren't as nice as they used to be, and it's a little embarrassing. But also as I've said before, I'm a little overweight and I carry it well. Whatever.

So, after a leisurely walk in the sun, we headed over for a small dinner at Pasta Pomodoro. The place on Market was almost completely empty when we got there but quickly filled up after we sat down. To our left were three sissy queens from LA, one of whom removed his footwear and placed it on the bench next to Roommate and then began to fan himself with the menu. So there we have a combination of foot odor, bad and very heavy cologne, deodorant, and body odor being waved at us all the while the little pud was cooing and flirting. I couldn't tell exactly at whom he was directing his intentions, but they were completely fucking obnoxious all the same. I was there to eat, not to cruise. If I wanted to cruise men, I'd go to the beach, the park, the bar, the bus stop, anywhere but in a restaurant. I don't know, maybe it's just me. To the right there was an older couple, one of whom was as interested in us as was the young drugged out queen on the other side of us. He went so far as to stretch out his arms and nearly hit Roommate in the face and then just smirk at us, like we were in his way. No apology. No excuse. Just a silly smirk. And then he started fanning himself. This time it was just straight body odor. So we picked up our plates and moved.

This may seem completely insensitive to other people around me. And I have to wonder if it's not a result of my hermitile attitude. I don't go out very often anymore, and I never really had a lot of social graces to begin with. But I do have an amount of politeness and respect for the people around me, wherever I go. I just felt a little out of place, like in the time that I haven't gone out to dinner in public, social law has been rewritten to allow such horrible actions and behaviors to become commonplace and acceptable. I was not raised like this. Even when I was a young twenty-something, I didn't behave like this in public. So is it me? Is it that I'm older now and I appreciate more discretion? Was I raised better than these people were? Am I uptight and unrealistic? (I'm offering this just so I don't hear it from anyone else. Seems less harsh when I say it myself.)

Fortunately, Roommate and I were both in agreement about how these people were just unacceptable as party guests, we finished our meal, and walked over to one of the bars for a drink or two. After only an hour of videos and Rolling Rock, we went home, exhausted. I went to bed, and the next thing I knew it was Monday morning.

That's all.

But, darling!

Surely, darling, you must be joking!

Is it wrong...

...to be planning my weekend on a Monday afternoon? There were so many things that I wanted to do this weekend, but after being stuck in Bay Bridge traffic for 55 minutes because of a two-car accident in one lane on the upper deck of the San Francisco span, I missed out on accomplishing some of those things. It took me 55 minutes to drive 11 miles. I think that works out to a little over 5 m.p.h., but that's not my point. My real point is that I'm a little spacey today, thinking about a road trip on Saturday, thinking about seeing new things and doing new people...or the other way around. Whatever. I'm soooooo bored!!!!!

Oh, and before it fades into the abyss, I was driving around Golden Gate Park on Saturday night, very late, and I saw a man flouncing through the park wearing a corset. And knee-high, black leather boots. And that's all. Oh, and a bit of face makeup, you know, eyebrows penciled, a little rouge here and there. Well, the first time I saw him, he had on a black shirt completely unbuttoned so it sort of flowed out around him while he pranced. But that's it. Nothing covering his naughty bits. He was skipping around, pulling on himself, dashing into the bushes as cars passed, and reappearing after the coast was clear. I saw him and another male person fade into the dark and fifteen minutes (or so) later, he emerged from the depths of the woods without his shirt. So I can only guess where, or to whom, the rest of his clothing went. Wonder how he got home that night.

Anyway, it goes to show you that just when I thought I'd seen everything (which is clearly too jaded, even for me), there's always something waiting to open my eyes a little wider.

And no comment on why I was there as late as I was, mmmkay?

Free Cone Day!!

At participating Ben and Jerry's stores, they are offering free ice cream cones from 12 p.m. to 8 p.m. on Tuesday, April 27, 2004. How wonderful and refreshing amidst all this nasty heat. And if you're not registered to vote where you live, you can get free ice cream and free voter registration all at once! And if you're not registered yet, please do so!

Amen, Sister

Click it.

In case you can't read it, the sign says: "Men against choice should fuck themselves." Get it, girl.

Just a quickie

Well, I sure earned my buck and a quarter today! Phew. Running here. Copying there. Editing upstairs. Playing Freecell downstairs. I wanted to document this somewhere before I braved the hot and steamy commute home tonight. Last night I had a dream (yes, another dream entry) that Isabelle Boulay invited me to spend the summer with her. So I went and before I really had a chance to do anything but compliment her on her gorgeous red tresses and fabulous couture, my alarm clock woke me the fuck up. Her new album comes out next month, and it's pretty on my mind right about now. I just adore her. *sigh*

Flash

Thanks to the magic of Flash, you can now see me as I might appear on South Park, if I had a goatee, that is. You can try this for yourself.

If you want to see me in my more natural habitat, one only a few people have ever really seen me in, click it.