Friday, December 31, 2004

Stuck On You

There is a tear in my faux leather jacket. I love this jacket. It is in a style I am assuming you would refer to as "swing" but as we all know, I am fashion challenged since I am not even really sure what Prada is. Or understand why any woman in her right mind would spend $250 on a Coach purse.

Anyway, there is a tear in my jacket. Or we should perhaps call it a hole. A big gaping jagged rip where you can see the lining. And it flaps. It's quite distracting.

What would you do if you were confronted with a big gaping jagged rip in your favorite jacket?

Would you:

A) Purchase a new jacket?
B) Visit a talented seamstress or seamster (what is the male version of a seamstress?) and have them fix the rip?
C) Wander around your office asking all the men you know if they have any duct tape?

I'm pretty sure you can figure out that C is the answer to what would Dana do.

Not one single man in this office has any duct tape. Not one. Oh, they have duct tape at home. But can they remember to bring it in? Of course not. It made me pine for an office like News Radio where Joe Garelli would wander around fixing everything and anything with duct tape. Joe Garelli would be able to fix my jacket for me. Joe Garelli would, quite possibly, be able to not only fix my jacket but whip up a stylish hat out of duct tape. I love Joe Garelli. Why yes, I was quite fond of News Radio. How did you guess?

Last night, as Keem and I were at Walgreen’s picking up pictures (which were quite expensive since I had close to 500 pictures developed. Yikes) because we are scrapbooking with Beth on New Year’s Eve. Anyway, at Walgreen’s, I was wandering around looking for duct tape and couldn’t find any. I did, however, find black electrical tape.

Keem asked me if I was almost ready to leave (because she is overly impatient. It is always “Dana, are you done yet? Dana, what is taking you so long? No, Dana, you can’t go and look at the books.” Take time to smell the books, Keem. It will be fun) and I said yes. I told her that I hadn’t been able to find any duct tape but I thought the electrical tape would do.

Then I heard this deep voice behind me. “What are you fixin’?”

I turn around and there he was – my hero. Tall, dark hair, blue flannel, jeans, beard, boots. Had he walked out of an Alaskan wilderness to rescue me in my duct tape emergency? I remember thinking “Hmm. You’re kind of cute in a lumberjack way.”

I laugh and said “My coat. I’m too lazy to go and get it repaired.”

He smiles at me. “The electrical tape should work. My brother, he has some black duct tape, but I don’t know where he got it from.”

“This should work,” I say and hurriedly go to meet Keem at the register.

What happened? Did he suddenly brandish a knife? Did he shout murderous invective to an invisible friend? Did I notice a wedding ring?


When he smiled at me, he revealed that he is missing several teeth. Actually, my use of several is being kind. There was a large gap. Actually, perhaps it was more of a canyon.

Perhaps you might say “Dana, really, you shouldn’t be all that fussy. You are not exactly beauty queen material yourself.” And I would agree with you, at least about the beauty queen part. But I can be fussy if I want. I do have some standards.

All I can say, in my defense, is that I don’t ask for much. All I’m really looking for is a guy who can sing, has a good sense of humor and, if not all of his teeth, some decent dentures. I do not want to date a man that my friends refer to as “Gaptooth.” Because they so would.

Does that make me shallow?

Oh, and my jacket looks lovely with its beautiful black electrical tape patch job. I feel shiny and new.

Previous Comments:

At 4:19 PM, Matt said...
Father,I agree with you it is right to have standards when looking for someone, because without them you could end up dating an evil whore troll from hell.....yes I am speaking from experience. Looking for a man that is funny, and can sing, and doesn't have all of his teeth missing...well that is just damn picky isn't it? Just kidding of course.Not beauty Queen material? Matter of opinion oh beautiful one, matter of opinion. If the judges took the time to see what the person was on the inside, instead of how much they make them drool on the outside, I would more than likely watch the shows again. But unless Sandra Bullock and Benjamin Bratt are going to be starring in the Scholarship Program, I will not watch it. (Sue me...go ahead, I am sure you will get far with the five cents that I have.)I loved your post, and please keep them coming, they are so much fun to read.Your son,Matt
At 1:48 PM, brooksba said...
DM,You think we'd call him "Gaptooth?" Wouldn't that imply he had teeth (or at least a tooth)? You know that we would accept anyone you chose to date. The only reason why we would tease them would be if they happened to insult you in front of us. I get a little vicious on that one. I know that Matt and I tend to make comments regarding someone. I do like that person though. It's just that the person I'm referring to can be a little rude sometimes and insulting towards others. That bothered me and I'm a Scorpio and I hold grudges. You are beautiful. I know you don't think so. You are though. I'm glad you fixed your jacket.Beth
At 3:31 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...
1) A male seamstress is a tailor. I would go off on a huge tangent about the masculine and feminine versions of various professions, but I have pictures to upload and a webpage to update, so I shan't.2) As a person who pays very little attention to his teeth, and who in fact is missing a molar, even I require that if a person is missing more than one tooth, especially if they are front teeth, that person should get a denture... to not do so argues a lack of self-esteem and regard for the feelings of others that renders any man undateable. Now perhaps he's getting his dentures repaired, or perhaps he just lost the teeth and hasn't had time to get to the dentist (most of whom are probably on vacation this time of year), but I would never date a man who went walking around with no teeth... unless he looks like Benjamin Bratt (who is so freakin' hott-with-two-Ts that he could be entirely toothless, with hair growing out of his ears and a prehensile tail in back, and still be hott-with-two-Ts.3) I can't remember where I last saw one, perhaps in the Notions department of a large drugstore, but there is such a thing as a vinyl repair kit... they used to advertise them on TV as being suitable for fixing leather jackets, car upholstery, desk-tops, etc. But in the meantime (assuming your coat is black), electrical tape should do the trick... so long as you apply it face-up inside of the coat and press the tear closed onto it. If you are walking around in public with electrical tape on the outside of your jacket, I simply have no words.
At 11:05 AM, CarpeDM said...
I think those of you reading Robert-Marlene's 3rd point can figure out that if I ever show up in California wearing my black coat, he will pretend to not know me. This would, of course, be after I introduced myself since we have never met IRL.Of course the tape is on the outside. I never even thought of repairing from the inside.
At 11:42 AM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...
Honesty forces me to admit that I walked around for months with a small safety-pin holding the arm of my eyeglasses on. And I'm still trying to figure out how to patch a bleach-hole in my favorite jeans, which formed in a most inauspicious spot (an inch to the left of the zipper, in what you could call my "Danger Zone") without drawing undue attention to myself (I was thinking a bugle-beaded lips patch, but I'm not so sure I have enough basket to carry it off). So I guess my words should be "here, girl, let me help you fix that." :-)
At 12:10 PM, Cy said...
Since you're in Minnesota, what are the odds that your hero was a currently unemployed professional hockey player, who didn't feel like putting his bridge in that morning?::smiles::(With all his teeth, mind you.)

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

We Three Things Of Memeness Are

Yeah, like you could resist titling it that. Okay. DeAnn posted this and we all know how much I think DeAnn is so absolutely postively cool, right? Well, if you don’t, you should because I think I’ve mentioned it before. Anyway, I am always happy when DeAnn has a meme because they are always the coolest memes ever. Okay, yeah, I just really like memes. It doesn’t matter who posts them. But DeAnn does have one of the cutest puppies ever so that does make this meme extra special. Here is the post she did. Go read it now. Wait! Promise to come back and read mine after. Or I will cry.

There are some questions that need to have stuff clarified so I am going to use footnotes. But I am keeping the footnotes with the section that is footnoted so you don’t have to scroll back and forth trying to read them.

Three names you go by*: Dana
Dorky Dana

*I should indicate that I hate my name. With a passion. And yes, it’s lovely and I should like it and blah blah blah. It’s boring and it could be so more exciting if it was Danae or Rain or True or something fun and kind of hippieish (Rain and True are names of characters I’ve created. Danae is from Greek mythology. I love Greek mythology. I love Greeks. Ah, short, hairy men).

Keem calls me Dorky Dana. Do not call me Dorky Dana, Internet. I will be annoyed with you. Keem only gets away with it because she allows me to call her Keem when she would probably prefer to be called Kimby. But Keem is a much cooler name than Kimby.

The DM thing is because I hate my name and when I write it, I prefer to write either Dana Marie or DM. It looks and sounds better with my last name. No one actually calls me DM because it sounds kind of silly (most people say it like diem and it should actually be pronounced as though it is Dee Em. With a pause in between them) but I also like it because of my screen name, CarpeDM which came about because I needed a quick easy email address that my mom could figure out and would not complain that it is too sexual. She approves of this one, even though I have told her that to me it means don’t sieze the day, sieze the Dana Marie. That’s okay with her, though. As long as it doesn’t look sexual (she took offense to my former screen name badbadkittygirl for some reason).

Three screennames you have:
carpedmblog (for when carpedm has been already taken)

Three things you like about yourself:
My creativity
My childlike enthusiasm
My spontaneity

Three things you hate/dislike about yourself:
My distance from people*
That fact that I rarely finish what I star**
My spontaneity***

*Sometimes I feel like I am an alien here to observe this planet. There is a part of me that doesn’t connect with people. It is too easy for me to let things go. Here’s a couple of examples. 1. When I left the Dark Side Bank, I had all of these phone numbers and email addresses of all my friends and we were going to stay in touch FOREVER! Because we were best friends. I haven’t talked to any of those people in over 3 years. 2. My oldest friend, Anya, who I’ve known from high school? Yeah, I don’t really talk to her anymore. We didn’t have a fight. She still calls me. I just never call her back. Why? Because she bores me and I don’t want to be the one that tells her that. I don’t want to be mean. So I don’t call.

I should add that the reason I don’t call is because I am seriously tired of listening to her complain about everything that is wrong in her life and how she wants the world to blow up and there’s no possible reason for me to suffer from depression because I have everything (everything would be a job that has health insurance) and there’s not really a God because if there was a God, she’d still be with her ex-husband and it’s my fault that she and her ex-husband broke up (because when she kept whining to me about how he treated her like crap and quit five jobs in five months and everytime she tried to talk to him about their problems he said “If you don’t like it, leave” and he never did anything around the house and she never had any money because he wasn’t working and she wouldn’t even buy new underwear without discussing it with him, I told her she should kick his ass to the curb) and ad nauseum.

**Yes, I deliberately left the t off of start.

***How can I like/dislike the same thing about myself? Hmm. Well, the spontaneity is what makes it easier for me to decide to go visit Johnny in Portugal with Beth in April. It’s also what helped me decide to move to Madison in less time than it takes me to decide what color I’m going to dye my hair next. Or to, oh, I don’t know, move in with a guy that picked me up the night before (story to come) who just happened to be married.

Three parts of your heritage:
Depends on who you’re talking to*
*I did a post about how my dad told me I was part black and part Polish because he didn’t want me to grow up to be predjudiced. He forgot to mention that apparently, I’m part English. He did not forget to tell me that I was part jackass on my mother’s side.

Three things that scare you:
Heights/Elevators/Spiral Staircases*

*I still have to do the post about how these fears combined one day. I promise I’ll work on it.

**I fear electricity because I dream of grabbing onto a power line and holding on and being electrocuted. I am not sure why I would grab onto a power line but sometimes, I will look at them and think “Hmm, I wonder what would happen if I just…” Escalators are scary. Not in the electrocution way but in the “If I step onto this thing I am going to fall face first down the escalator and break something.”

Three of your everyday essentials*:
Printed Words (used to be books. But I have blog addictions as well now)

Yes, I eat each day, yes, I take a shower and go to the bathroom and etc. All the things that sustain life. But this is stuff makes life worth living.

Three things you are wearing right now*:
Second favorite orange shirt
Really annoying socks that are making my feet nervous.

*Have you ever thought about how much better this world would be if we didn’t have to wear clothes? Seriously. I hate clothing. I would give anything to be wearing my big pink nightgown instead of these stupid jeans and socks and oh my God, I hate this bra!

Three of your favorite bands/artists (at the moment):
Maroon 5
Bree Sharp
Bryan McDonald*

*I’ve mentioned him before. Host at The Chalet. Incredible voice. Unbelieveable. You should all come to Minnesota and experience Bryan’s singing.

Three of your favorite songs at present:
Change The World – Eric Clapton
Giant – Melissa Etheridge
Candy Man – Bryan McDonald imitating Sammy Davis Jr.*

*Seriously. It’s the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life. He doesn’t do it often but when he does, he has us laughing hysterically. And then there’s his Bono imitation. And his imitation of Pat Boone singing Ice, Ice Baby. Oh, my God. If I had a video camera and he would allow me to videotape him and if he didn’t think I was already stalking him, I would tape it.

Three new things you want to try in the next 12 months:
Traveling abroad*
Clean my room**
Finish my Vegas scrapbook within one year of my actually going to Vegas.

*Portugal! Yay! In April!

*Insert insane laughter here because I hate cleaning. Actually, what I’d really like to try is convince someone to clean my room for me.

Three things you want in a relationship (love is a given):

*Because he’ll need it. I am a bit flaky. And could be considered high maintenance. But in a fun way.

Two truths and a lie:
I had a crush on Shipwreck from the GI Joe cartoon.
That kid from Malcolm in the Middle, Frankie Muniz? Can’t stand him.
I think I would make a great hermit. Except for that whole living in a cave thing and not having access to the internet. And are hermits allowed to have books? Are there rules for being a hermit?

Three physical things about the opposite sex (or same) that appeal to you:
Big strong masculine hands*
Expressive faces**

*Well, in Bobby’s case. I don’t really notice anyone else’s hands.

**I adore Rowan Atkinson and Stanley Tucci. I think they are extremely sexy. No one gets this. But I love how their faces can express so many different emotions, feelings, etc. Just with their eyes or a smile. Another good one is Marty Feldman.

***Just be taller than me, okay? That’s all I really care about.

Three things you just can’t do:
Deal with Eddy vomit without wanting to throw up myself.
Imagine what I would do if I couldn’t blog.
Finish a novel.*

*If I could write the way I do with this blog, I would have no problem with this. But who in the publishing world is going to want to read a novel that starts out “So there’s this girl, right? And she’s dating this guy. And on the night of her graduation from high school, he and his two best friends rape her.” No, the publishing world wants things like names and descriptions and actual sentences. Silly publishing world. Dana speak is the wave of the future!

Three of your favorite hobbies*:
Watching TV and/or movies

*Huh. That was easy. Thanks for already filling this in for me, DeAnn. Of course, you did forget about karaoke! And scrapbooking!

Three things you want to do really badly right now:
Go home and sleep for 500 hours straight.
Get my new computer.
Convince Beth and Keem that driving to Toronto and seeing Johnny (aka The Lioness) is worth losing our jobs. And she’s sick! She needs us to bring her chicken soup!

Three careers you’re considering:
Queen of the Universe*
World Famous Novelist**
Lottery Winner***

*I realize that I am already Queen of the Universe but it would be fun to get paid for it.

**If I could just pull this stupid book from my head, it could happen. Really.

***I could give money to all of my friends! It would be great. And I could donate to charities and travel the world and come and visit everyone whose blog I have read and take you out to dinner. And I’m pretty sure I would buy Flea a tivo.

Three places you want to go on vacation:
Great Britain
New Orleans

Three kids' names*:

Joshua Eric
True Frances
Dmitri Nicolas**

*Joshua Eric is my nephew’s name. True Frances and Dmitri Nicolas are what I would name my children. If I ever became insane and decided “Hey, I really want a baby! That would be fun!”

**It used to be Dmitri Aloyious but I can never remember how to spell it so how could I expect a kid to spell it?

Three things you want to do before you die:
Witness the government sanctioned marriage of all of my gay friends.*
Become president so I can pass the large pink nightgown law.**
Finish that damn novel.

*I don’t care if they don’t want to get married. The minute it’s legal, I’m dragging them to the church. Dammit.

**No, not really. Could you imagine me as president? “President Dana, the army really doesn’t want to hold a bake sale to raise money for tanks.” “Well, I guess they should have thought of that before they spent all that money on hammers! What were they thinking?”

Three people who have to take this quiz now*:

*Well, they don’t have to but I would love to read their answers! I would have put Firebear but he doesn't like memes.

Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Inspiration Links In Mysterious Places

Have you been to Anne Taintor Dot Com? Have you?

You should go there right now. You should. You should go buy me stuff. Well, no, you shouldn't but not for the reason you're thinking which is "Oh, that Dana. She just realized that sounded crass and rude and demanding and is taking it back." Because, um, hello, Queen of the Universe here. Allowed to be demanding (but I do apologize for being crass and rude. Please buy me stuff? I like stuff). You shouldn't go there right now because they're closed for inventory and won't be open again until January 3rd.

Anyway, I found a ton of fun stuff there. I first came across her art on a notebook I found at Barnes and Noble (another place to go to if you are looking for Dana appropriate gifts. Because I would buy the whole damn store if I could (except for the non-fiction area. I don't like non-fiction. Well, maybe some non-fiction. I did enjoy both The Rock's and Meat Loaf's autobiographies)). I had been drawn to it for some time but finally broke down and bought it when I was at B&N looking for a Christmas present for Eric's sisters. I wanted to also buy the smaller notebook that had this cover but Kari, when presented with the onerous task of choosing which one I should pick, went with the first notebook. But you so know I'll be back there to buy the smaller one.

The other day, I was talking to a co-worker about a stock holder and saw she also liked this work and she directed me to Anne Taintor Dot Com (that's just so fun to write). Which is where I found this one. I must have it. Must! Which I will eventually buy but not until after I go to Portugal because I cannot be frivolous. I must budget. I must.

Anyway, the whole thing about inspiration? The link about imaginary men has inspired me to write about my love of super heroes. So this post is to come. Along with a meme that I gleefully stole from DeAnn's site. DeAnn has a puppy so you should go see her puppy. He is very cute.

Stupid work computer will not let me view the pictures on Adam West Dot Com. Damn computer. I need my Bat Fix.

I think that's random enough for the day. My work here is done.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

"Well, at least we don't live in our mother's basement"*

You know how you get when you're really tired and goofy and everything is funny? Yeah, well, Beth and I hit that stage last night when we were scrapbooking.

Here are some things you should know about Beth and I. We have known each other for almost 4 years (from NABABNA). I do not know what I would do without her or Keem, they are absolutely the best friends a girl could ever have. We are very close and sometimes, we can communicate telepathically (as evidenced during the night I faked an asthma attack). This also was demonstrated one night when I, for no apparent reason (as much of my actions are seen by others - for no apparent reason) started singing a random song. It consisted of las. Like this - la la la, lalala, la LA la. Or something like that. This is not that weird, actually, I've done that a few times before (read many. In fact, it was quite common to hear Mike F cry out in pain "No las! No more las, dammit!). No, what was weird about this is when Beth joined in on my random la song and matched me note for freakin' note. I think Matt was there so if he was, we have a witness. I had never sang that exact random la song before so there was no way she could know how it was going to go unless she was reading my mind.

Anyway, we are very comfortable around each other and I feel no fear in speaking my mind to her. Last night, I was kicking myself for not changing clothes before she picked me up because I was wearing a very lovely black sweater/red pants combo (festive!) and I was dying of heat. I said to her "Do you mind if I take my bra off? This is killing me. Either the bra goes or the shirt is going to have to come off. Would you mind?" Beth says it's not a problem. I then say "Do you mind if the shirt comes off?" She says "I sat in your old apartment, helping you move, in my bra. Remember? (I also was shirtless)" The shirt came off. I was scrapbooking in my lovely white bra and red pants. It was a serious relief from the heat.

Anyway, that was the start of the goofiness. Here are some highlights from the evening/morning (didn't go to sleep until 7:30, shortly after I went headfirst into the table from tiredness).

A Conversation About Bobby

DM (that would be me): Could you imagine if I ever saw Bobby slicing a lime? I'd have an orgasm right there (this was after a brief conversation where I mentioned Bobby's "Those hands. Oh, my God, those big strong masculine hands.")

Descent Into Madness

Beth and I are sitting at the table with metallic scrapbooking hearts stuck to our foreheads. Without adhesive. Only the oil from our skin is keeping them there.

DM: I dare you...I dare us to wear these to karaoke. And if anyone asks us why, we can say 'We're looking for love in all the wrong places.'

B (Beth): So any question as to why we're both single?

Friendship Takes On A New Level

I am looking of a picture I took of Beth in Vegas. She is eating ice cream. She is less than thrilled with the picture. We start arguing about the picture's merits.

B (Beth): It's a horrible picture.
DM: Well, I think you're lovely.
B: If only we were lesbians.
DM: Yes, there's some serious making out we're missing out on. Forget about scrapbooking! We could be locking lips in a lesbian frenzy!
B (looking a little grossed out): Um, no, that's okay.
DM: Yeah, I know, me either. But that was a great alliteration!

Being Positive About Being Negative

B: I can find something positive in anything.
DM: Yeah, I can too except that my toenail hurts. Well, not my toenail, my toe.
B: Well, let's look for the positive. Because your toe hurts, that means something good is going to happen. Bobby will lick it.
DM: I am not letting Bobby anywhere near my toe. I have some dignity left. Not much dignity because I'm sitting here in my bra & have a metallic heart stuck to my head. But some dignity!

Beth dissolves into laughter. I start writing this down. We laugh again.

B: Fuck, it's hot in here.
DM: Well, hello, that's why...(I gesture in the general bra area).

Everyone Needs To Have A Plan For The Future

Beth and I seriously sat down and planned our next ten years out. Not where we want to be in our careers or going back to school or finishing that freakin' novel I'm still working on. Oh, no. That would be normal. No, we planed our vacations. For the next ten years. Well, okay, we only figured out where we're going.

2005 - Portugal
2006 - New Orleans
2007 - Italy
2008 - Washington DC
2009 - Great Britain (Stratford on Avon! Woo-hoo! Among other spots)
2010 - New York
2011 - Southern Germany/France
2012 - Alaskan Cruise (when I was reading the list back, I read 2012 as Two Thousand Twen. Apparently it's a new word that I made up that makes no sense)
2013 - Moscow/Australia (No, not both of them together because that would never work. If we are married to big, strong, masculine men who can protect us, Moscow. If not, Australia. Where hopefully we will find big strong, masculine men)
2014 - Hawaii
2015 - Egypt

After planning our trips, we talked about taking smaller ones throughout the States. Like Wisconsin or Chicago (and dammit, I will be going to see flea's shop if we do!) or Michigan to see Firebear and his wife (After maybe clearing it with Larry first. That might be a good thing. Especially since we don't know where in Michigan he lives). Arizona came up.

B: Someday I'm taking you to AZ to see the Grand Canyon.
DM: Yeah, I guess we could visit my mom.
B: Well, if my grandma dies, you want to go to her funeral?
DM: Yeah, well, I could say "Hey, dead woman, sorry you're dead. Boo-hoo."
B: She was a nice woman. Until she went senile.

Running Down A Dream

And, as all conversations should, our conversation led to The Rock. I had mentioned that I was being mocked by my co-workers on Christmas Eve for my love of The Rock and his beauteousness. I was defending the movies The Rundown and Walking Tall. This is as true to the actual words I said.

DM: And he had the big stick and then he was beating people up with it and there was the guy who was just standing there and he said boo and the guy ran into a pole!

My co-workers stare at me.

DM: And he's shiny!

My co-workers mock me mercilessly for the rest of the day. They are male though, so probably don't appreciate the shininess of The Rock. I do, though. My dream? The weird one? Yeah, Brock? He was played by The Rock. Good dream.

Anyway, I was telling Beth about the mocking and how Mike F was very happy I was being mocked when I emailed him about it.

B: I didn't really think much of him until I saw The Rundown.
DM: Oh, yeah (drawn-out. More like Ohhhhh, yeeeeeeeaaaah).
B: The thing with the two shotguns when he cocked them.
DM: Oh, God (again with the drawn-out words. Ohhhhhhhh, Gooooooddd. There might have been a whimper). I just had a moment over shotguns.
B: Lock and load, baby. Lock and load.

Then we had to watch The Rundown. And the scene with the shotguns? We watched it twice. And I smoked a cigarette because seriously, that's the closest I've come to sex in 7 freakin' years!

*Where The Title Comes From

Beth looks at me. She says something about us being nerds.

B: Well, at least we don't play D&D.

We have a moment laughing about this because we are thinking of the post when she wrote about her day and the guy who announced to all of IHOP what a man he was.

DM: Um. Actually, I did play D&D.

She looks at me. That pitying "Oh, my God, you're such a dork" look.

DM: Well, actually, it wasn't D&D exactly. It was about robots.

Her look morphs into the "How are we friends?" look.

DM: Yeah, because that's even dorkier. Robot D&D. But my robot had a cool name. You had to choose a name that was both letters and numbers and I picked 2BRNOT2B.

I pause, while I remember playing this game. Once. Because my first boyfriend dragged me to it.

DM: Yeah, because I'm not just a robot D&D nerd. I'm a Shakespeare nerd.
B: Someone tried to teach me to play Magic once. I didn't get it. I thought it was stupid.
DM: Hey! I played Magic. I liked it. I was the only girl in a group of guys.
B: But they were Magic playing guys. How hot could that be?
DM: Well, there was one guy that was hot. I loved him. God, what was his name? Anyway, he was a school teacher and one night, after everyone had crashed from playing Magic, we had a conversation about how we were perfect for each other except that we shouldn't be together. Good times.

And Where The Insanity Continues Into The Next Day

Beth wakes up and comes out into the living room. I am typing on the computer. We exchange greetings.

DM: Hey. I am really glad you have a towel bra in your bathroom.

She, for obvious reasons, stares at me blankly.

DM: Not a towel bra. A towel bar. I just wrote about me scrapbooking in my bra. Anyway, I'm glad you have a towel BAR in your bathroom because when my foot fell asleep this morning when I was going to the bathroom, it was really helpful it was there. It was all that kept me from falling face first into your bathroom wall when I stood up. And I thought "Things to be thankful for. I'm glad Beth has a towel bar in her bathroom."
B: And thankfully it was not a towel bra.

Previous Comments:
At 5:00 PM, brooksba said...
DM,Hee, hee! Ha! Uh-HA! I can't describe the horrid laugh that escaped from last night's conversations.First off all, when you wrote the post about the dream, you used the name Rock, not Brock. That's funny. I didn't say Magic was stupid, just that I didn't get it. You added words there. I don't think it's stupid, just not overly cool. And it's not that the game itself is uncool, it's just that most individuals I've found that play the game tend to be 35 years old and live in their mother's basements. That was seriously fun last night. I enjoyed it. We are crazy and I can't believe you (we) shared these moments with the world, but they are funny.Love,Beth
At 11:46 AM, Firebear said...
Thank you for sharing!I have decided not to make any bra comments, but thanks for the images.The Rock is cool. I would also suggest checking out Edge. He is very cool.We are looking for an extra player in the D&D group...Hope the holidays were good! Hugs! Larry
At 12:55 PM, CarpeDM said...
Who is Edge?

Friday, December 24, 2004

Why you should not watch the original Batman movie two nights in a row

So last night I had a dream. A very weird and somewhat frightening dream. And, because I love you all, I am now going to share this with you. My comments will all be in italics.

Okay, so there was this woman. She was this blonde bombshell type of woman. But she was also a tad psychotic. She had decided she was in love with this guy but she was completely obsessed with him and if he even so much as looked or talked to another woman, she would kill the woman. For example, he had a conversation with a waitress and then the waitress turned up dead.

Or he smiled at this woman when they passed on the street and then the woman was murdered horribly.

But the worst part was when this psychotic woman (she needs a good blonde bombshell name. Hmm. Where’s my name book when I need it?), Lola, found out that the guy she was obsessed with, Rock, was in love with another woman. She went insane. “How dare he love someone else, that rat bastard? He should only LOVE me!”

So, as you can imagine, the woman who Rock adored with all of his heart was killed. He was devastated. Horrified. Distraught. And what was up with all of these women being killed? That was kind of weird, wasn’t it?

Then, one night, Lola showed up on his door. He knew her vaguely, she was attractive enough, but his heart still belonged to his lost love. He let her into his apartment and, as Lola thought, into his life.

But it was not to be. When Lola poured her heart out to him, he rebuffed her affections, he rejected her love. Well, as they say, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” And, as you can imagine, Lola went nuts. Crazy, baby. But not in a fun, beatnik way (Did I mention that this took place in either the 50’s or 60’s? Because it did).

You can almost visualize the scene, can’t you? Lola in her tight white dress, her bosom heaving, as she tore around his apartment, smashing things to the ground. While Rock stood there, heart broken, watching this Hell Cat destroy his possessions and not caring. Because she had already destroyed his heart.

But then Lola heard something. A step on the stairs right outside. Who could it be? She dashed quickly to the window. It was the Sheriff. Lola might be insane but she wasn’t stupid. She threw herself into Rock’s arms and then pushed him away. She swiped him with her wickedly sharp manicure. And then, worst of all, when he wasn’t looking (yeah, because looking away from a psychotic woman is always brilliant), she threw the mask she had worn when she had killed the three woman onto his face so it would like he was the murderer.

The Sheriff entered the room. He stoically surveyed the scene. Lola, bosom heaving yet again, threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Sheriff,” she cried. “Thank God you’re here! He went crazy and tried to kill me! He said he killed those other women! Please help me!”
The Sheriff had no choice. It didn’t look good for our hero, Rock. You had to feel sorry for the Sheriff, being forced to arrest his best friend since kindergarten. But arrest him, he did.

Late that night, while Rock laid on the cot in his jail cell, the Sheriff considered the evidence. What was he going to do? The townspeople were up in arms about wanting swift justice. Suddenly, the door to the jail burst open. The Sheriff jumped to his feet, fearing a lynch mob. But only one man walked into the jail. A stranger to the Sheriff.

“Who are you?” the Sheriff asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to save you from making the biggest mistake of your life, Sheriff. I, like you, am a lawful man, a protector of innocents. But I am here from the future (Now here’s the point that I don’t get. You would think the Sheriff would ask the man from the future to prove this in some manner. But he doesn’t. He just stoically (in case you haven’t guessed, I like the word stoic) says “Okay” and waits for this guy to save him from making the biggest mistake of his life).”

“Okay,” the Sheriff says and waits for the guy to save him from making the biggest mistake of his life.

The man from the future goes on to tell him that Rock is an innocent man (Can anyone else hear Billy Joel wailing in the background “For I am an innnnnoooocenttt man?” Or is that just me) and that Lola is actually a psychotic freak woman who is warped due to a traumatic experience she had one day involving an amorous octopus (seriously what he said).

The screen changes (because apparently this isn’t a dream, it’s a movie) to look like a comic book and you see a comic book version of Lola capering around in the ocean. And the next panel shows the menacing tentacle of an octopus creeping towards her. The next panel shows Lola with a blissful smile on her face and that’s all you see because wrapped around her arms and legs and body is nothing but tentacles. Tentacles everywhere except neck up. Then the last panel shows Lola drifting in the ocean underwater, in a cloud of squid ink (which I’m not sure how the squid ink becomes involved because Future Guy said it was an amorous octopus. They are not the same. Perhaps this was an octopus with a squid mother).

We return to the jail. The Sheriff, unsurprisingly, is a bit taken aback. The man from the future continues his story. “So you see, Sheriff, Lola can’t help the way that she feels. She is looking for a man that can provide her with the love and constant attention that the octopus gave her. She wants to feel that she is the only one in her man’s life. But she can’t continue to toy with other lives in this way. We must stop her.”

Now this is where it gets a little weird (and I know you’re all sitting here thinking “Um, Dana, yeah, you’re a freak. This was weird from the beginning.”). The only way that the Sheriff can get Lola to confess is to take her into a submarine. Because apparently, being close to the ocean will put Lola into a much better mood. So once she starts smelling the ocean, she becomes quite friendly, especially when the Sheriff tells her that he loves her. Oh, that’s so great. Rock is forgotten in a second.

“You have no idea what I’ve done for love, Sheriff,” Lola purrs.

“Tell me, Lola. You must. I must know!” The Sheriff says passionately. “I love you, Lola. I will protect you.”

“I’ve killed, Sheriff, I’ve maimed, I’ve framed Rock for murder. All because he kept looking at other women. How could he? How could he when there was me? Sheriff, what are you doing with those handcuffs?”

The Sheriff lunges for Lola but she suddenly spies an octopus outside the submarine. She rushes to the door and throws it open. “My love!” she screams. She throws herself out into the ocean, to be seen no more (I had thought she drowned but when I was telling this to Keem this morning, she thought that maybe Lola was living in the ocean with her octopus lover. And she told me that I scared her).

The Sheriff, of course, is too busy trying to shut the door to the submarine so he doesn’t drown to rescue her.

Later, he plays the tape he made for both Rock and the man from the future. “I’m so glad that you were able to free Rock,” Future Guy says (You would think that maybe, just maybe, he would tell us why he was so adamant that Rock was freed but no. No, doesn’t bother. He does, however, tell Rock and the Sheriff the names of several candy bars that they should invest in. Maybe mentioned a stock or two). Future Guy leaves. Rock and the Sheriff just sit there, looking at each other.

So that’s my dream. Sometimes I scare even myself.

Previous Comments:

At 1:28 PM, brooksba said...
DM,OMG, this is hilarious! My favorite part:["He just stoically (in case you haven’t guessed, I like the word stoic) says “Okay” and waits for this guy to save him from making the biggest mistake of his life).”“Okay,” the Sheriff says and waits for the guy to save him from making the biggest mistake of his life.]Classic! Absolutely classic.You do scare me sometimes, but it's usually in a good way. Loved it. Thanks for sharing.Beth
At 1:39 PM, CarpeDM said...
I had both Andrea S. and Laurie B. read it. They thought it was pretty funny. Scary but funny.Where does this stuff come from?
At 1:49 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...
That was actually pretty good. I wish my dreams had such narrative integrity. All this needs is a little fleshing out (the Man From the Future's motives, for example, maybe he's Rock's son or something, or the son of the sherrif who committed suicide after discovering that he'd allowed his best friend to be lynched for Lola's crimes... talk it out amongst yourself), and it would make an excellent comic book script. Also definitely change the octopus to a squid... aside from the ink, they're just more phallic. And instead of Lola exiting the submarine by way of a door (which submarines do not have... they have hatches), she could exit by way of a torpedo bay, also very Freudian.
At 2:35 AM, brooksba said...
DM,I just wanted to stop by and wish you Merry Christmas! Hope your day with your family is wonderful and full of happy moments, memories in the wings. Call me later!Beth
At 12:10 PM, Firebear said...
This is great! I love the whole story!

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Dreams Come True

I am getting a computer for Christmas (well, my sister is buying me a computer and making a payment and the rest of the payments are mine but it still counts because I'm getting it at Christmas time)!

I am going to PORTUGAL!

Beth and I are going to see The Lioness in April!!!!!

Am I the luckiest person you've ever met or what?

At 11:07 AM, The Lioness said...
CANNOT BELIEVE YOU'RE COMING!!!!! YEY!!!!!!! Congrats on comp, bril!!!
At 12:57 PM, brooksba said...
DM,Did I tell you I'm excited? Oh yeah, I think I've told you that over and over.WE'RE GOING TO PORTUGAL!!! OMG!!! This is totally awesome! Yea!!!Also, thrilled that you now have your own computer. That means more blogging. =)Beth
At 7:19 PM, Firebear said...
That's is very cool! Spent time there myself. Long story, but involves a moving sidewalk and a taxi going really fast in reverse!I can't wait for those blogs!

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Click-Hiss or How to annoy me

A few months ago, Beth, Matt & myself were sitting at Perkins. Behind us, about two booths back, were two girls (women? Younger than me and I consider myself a girl most of the time so therefore I have declared that they are girls). To our right, there was a guy who was possibly a little tipsy and calling some girl on his cell phone and talking to her about how he wanted to see her and he didn’t care what her hair looked like and oh how he missed her. Which would have been really sweet if he hadn’t been whining about it. Example: “But Jenny (only because I’m thinking of the song 867-5309), I dooon’t care what your hair looks like. Jenny. But Jenny. Please come up here. I waaaaant to seeeee you. Jennnnnny. Jennnnnny. I miss yooooooooooou.”

Dude. Whining is only cool when I do it because it’s not so much whining as it is creative complaining. I whine to amuse. You are whining to annoy. And, quite possibly, get laid.

One of the girls has one of those annoying walkie-talkie phones. You know the ones. But since I don’t want to be sued, we’ll just not mention the name of the company. They make that click-hiss sound. Hey, it’s great that your cell phone can go coast to coast and there’s great coverage and ooh, how exciting that there are walkie-talkie minutes and you might connect faster. But, hey, I had a walkie-talkie when I was 10. And it got old really fast. Either that or I lost it. Don’t really remember, now that I think of it. But I am thinking it would have gotten old.

Anyway, Whiny Dude (WD) notes that this girl has the walkie-talkie phone. He walks over to her table. This is their conversation. I swear to God.

WD: Pardon me. I couldn’t help but notice you have an Annoying Walkie-Talkie Phone That Is Seriously Pissing Off Dana With The Click-Hiss (AWTPTISPODWTCH). I’m a consultant.
Cute Girl (CG (well, I’m assuming she was cute. I really couldn’t see her but c’mon, why else would he wander over there? We already know his bootie call failed)): You are (this is said in the tone that indicates “Hmm, is this a pick-up line? Because it’s definitely not one I’ve heard before.”)?
WD: Yes. Do you have any questions?
CG: Um (Beth, Matt & I are all looking at each other, trying not to laugh. What the heck is this?)…
WD: Any concerns? How is your service?
CG: I’m a new AWTPTISPODWTCH customer. I do like it though.
WD: I’m sorry. I’m really fucked up.

Okay. Now I am biting my lip, trying to avoid looking at either Beth or Matt. What a pick-up artist this guy is. Boy, I wish I could meet someone as smooth as him that would try to pick me up by telling me how drunk he is. Oh, and maybe he could sway back and forth like this guy is doing. Ooh baby, ooh baby, ooh.

She giggles. Ooh, you big sexy Whiny Dude, I want you so much now that you’ve told me that you’re drunk. That makes you doubly sexy. Please.

CG: That’s okay.
WD: Goes in to his spiel about the AWTPTISPODWTCH.

Meanwhile, the Cute Girl’s friend wanders back from the bathroom. Cute Girl’s Friend is not pleased with Whiny Dude, especially when he asks her what type of phone she has. Cute Girl’s Friend tells him she’s perfectly happy with her phone.

Hmm, Whiny Dude seems to be pondering. He may have to switch his topic. What to say, what to say? He looks around (or so I imagine) before he notices the school books scattered across the table in front of Cute Girl and Friend.

WD: What are you studying?
CG: I’m studying Spanish.
WD: Oh. (He turns to Her Friend) What are you studying?
HF (Flat tone, no inflection at all): I’m studying Dental.
WD: Oh. Okay.

He wanders back to his table. Normalcy ensues. But then, Whiny Dude makes his move again. He decides to smoke a cigarette. He looks around the restaurant. There Beth, Matt and I are sitting. Matt and I both have cigarettes and lighters in plain sight. His gaze goes past us though. We are not Cute Girls. Beth is a Cute Girl but she doesn’t have a lighter in front of her. Plus, she is surrounded by both myself and Matt. We are not going to let this guy anywhere near our Beth.

He walks over to the Cute Girl’s table again.

WD: Can I use your lighter?
CG: Sure.
WD (I swear to you this is what he said. Marvel at his smoothness): Grassy ass.
CG: Gracias. De Nada (which is Spanish for thank you and you are welcome. Moron Boy).
WD: Grassy ass (Oh, yes, you’re so brilliant. Obviously Cute Girl will fall at your feet now).
CG: I’m studying Spanish (in the “Dude, that’s really not funny. Would you like it if people made fun of your language?” tone).
WD (realizing he may have irritated Cute Girl, he turns to Her Friend): What are you studying?
HF: DENTAL. You already asked me this.
WD: I’m studying psychology. Any questions?

Yeah, I’ve got one. Why are you annoying people? Go sit down, you big dork.

Or do you think that’s too harsh?

At 12:25 AM, brooksba said...
DM,FINALLY! Yea! I was sooooo excited to see this post! I've been waiting for about, I don't know, 4 months! I laughed. Thank you, thank you, thank you Oh Queen of the Universe. You are awesome!Beth
At 8:49 AM, Anonymous said...
This story just made me chuckle. Especially the "any questions?" part, it is my favorite! Poor guy. Poor everyone else that had to deal with him.Also, let me tell you sometimes having the name 'Jenny' can be a curse (damn that Tommy Tutuone), but other times when you you come in contact with a whiny guy it can be a blessing: whiny guy won't go away? Slip him a napkin that says 867-5309/Jenny and tell him you're busy but to call you later. Ususally those whiny guy types are so far gone, they don't even notice. It's sad, but sometimes it just has to be done.Wow I just came off sounding WAY cold and WAY more heartless than I really am. I assure you, it's only come to the twice in the past. I'm just going to stop talking now.Jenny
At 9:27 AM, Matt said...
Futher,Finally as well I was hoping to read this and now I have, so there you go. I would like to say thank you thank you thank you, for not only did you give the world this wonderful little slice of life that we had to endure, but now you have inspired me to write another post, it involves a Freudian slip (at least we will say it was a Freudian slip) overhead on a phone call from NABABNA and the psudo-commercial that was invented from said Freudian slip. I hope that I am able to get to it while I am at work, if not oh well, I will get to it very, VERY soon however. So thank you again, and I will talk to you later.Your Son,He-Who-Should-Be-On-Lithium (or something)Matt
At 12:49 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...
I'm endlessly amused by lame pickup attempts. Back when I was young and pretty, my favorite pickup technique belonged to the men who seemed to think that openly insulting me would get my juices flowing. "You bleach your hair?" one asked with a sexy growl, "Wow, you must be really stupid. You wanna go out to my truck with me?" or better yet..."You're really hot... normally I don't like drag queens, they're an embarrassment to the gay community, but you're an exception. Why do you do drag? I bet you're really hot as a boy. You shouldn't do drag." For him I invented the patented Marlénè-Whup, where I slowly withdrew one of my opera gloves as this cretin went on dissing my sisters (and, indirectly, me) and displaying an enormous amount of ignorance as to his own cultural history as a gay man, and once off I dampened the fingers in my cocktail, wound the glove up like a wet towel, and swacked him right across the face with it.It was amazingly satisfying... for me, anyway: he was so drunk I don't think he felt it, and he kept going on and on, trying to feel my up. I eventually had to walk away. Fortunately, there were plenty of witnesses, and the Marlénè-Whup passed into legend.
At 12:53 AM, BC said...
Situations like this can never happen again in Ontario Canada ever since the Liberal Dalton McGuinty government came in. Maybe it was part of a previous political thrust, I forget, but there is NO SMOKING in public places that are enclosed anymore. Totally illegal. I wonder if this dude would have given me the display he did you if he were in this health conscious province. How do you find them DM? You and your friends seem to have fun together. I would too if I were you.

Monday, December 20, 2004

Things I have said to Beth

Exhibit A

Beth and I were scrapbooking (yes, we use it as a verb. Go ahead. Mock us, you know you want to) our trip to Las Vegas in March and she had some leftover Saint Patrick Day stickers. This was our conversation about the stickers:

Beth (B): Did you take pictures of anyone in green hats when we went downtown on Saint Patrick’s Day?
Dana (DM): Did we go downtown?
B (spoken slowly, as if to a small child): Yes. We got the spray paint art and…
DM: Oh. Wasn’t there that guy? In the green?
B: The guy in the green on Saint Patrick’s Day. Now that’s descriptive.
DM: Shut up and get some paper (so I could blog this for you. Don’t you just adore me?).

Exhibit B
The same day we started talking about News Radio.

B: That was a good show.
DM: Yeah (deep sigh). I miss Phil Hartman.

There is a brief moment of silence as we reflect on the comic genius of Phil Hartman.

DM: See, if he would have married me, he’d still be alive. I’m crazy but I’m not Prozac crazy.

Exhibit C
I’m not sure what day this was but there’s this really annoying show called Starting Over and I was talking to Beth about an episode I had seen where this woman was trying to fulfill her dream of being a stand-up comic. Which, hey, more power to you but, y’know what? Practice might help.

DM: She sucked. She was sucky. She sucked ass big time. It was so sucky.

Yeah, in case you didn’t get it, she wasn’t very good.

Exhibit D
And this was back when Beth and Adam were still roommates, about a year or so ago. Beth was expressing concern that she didn’t see her roommate as much as she would like. That sometimes she felt that he ignored her in favor to hang out with all of his cool new gay friends (which, hey, it’s great that you had made new friends but hello! We’ve been your friends through when you were gay, then when you thought you were straight and then realized that you were gay. We know you, we accept you, quirks and all, including the midriff baring Care Bear shirt you insist on wearing public. Stop ignoring us, you dork (Love you, Adam, but ignoring your friends is not cool (Sorry. Vant over, residual resentment from the past))).

Anyway, in order to offer her a creative situation to her problem, I said the following:

DM: Well, if it would help, I suppose I could make out with you on the couch when he's coming home.
B: Uh, no, that's okay, Dana.
DM: Well, it's not like I would enjoy it or anything. You're not really my type. But that's the sacrifice I would make for you.
B: Well, I appreciate it. But you're really not my type either.

At 7:28 PM, The Lioness said...
At 2:57 AM, brooksba said...
DM,While I appreciate your offer, I'm glad that we came to the same conclusion. We may just be the strangest people ever. (Strike that, we're strange in our unique way. But we're not [insert any random person from karaoke here - like Pete. Pete is strange.])I'm glad that you're not Prozac crazy. Please don't hurt me. So, you never did actually answer the question about whether or not you got any pictures of people dressed up for St. Patrick's Day in Vegas. Did you? Or was it just that one guy, you know, the one in the green?You are truly the greatest friend. Who else could fake an asthma attack for me? That means so much more than making out. Beth
At 3:17 AM, Rik said...
This is a great blog you have here.Very interesting to read, so I bookmarked it.
[My blog][avatars and funny stuff]

What is up with these dreams?

Last night I had two odd dreams. One was that I was living in a duplex with my grandparents, my dad's parents. Grandfather died before my mom even met my dad, grandmother died when I was two. So I don't remember them. Why was I living in a duplex with them? What is that? And why would I feel compelled to leave them a note on the table in my portion of the duplex so that they wouldn't be worried when I went to karaoke with Beth? And I had a dog.

The only thing that I can think might have been involved in this is that Beth mentioned having lunch with her grandparents.

The other dream was very strange. Apparently I was working with Will Smith on a movie (so apparently I'm a movie star since this is the 2nd dream I've had where I've been in a movie with someone. The first was the former gov of MN, Jesse "The Body" Ventura). Apparently, I had this long, involved conversation with Mr. Smith (call me Will) about religion. Apparently he started showing me a ritual from his religion that involved me lying in the dirt driveway at my mother's house (now Kari's house but in the dream I think my mom was still living there) while he painted little symbols on me with gold paint and then poured water over me.

I do know that the dream was not sexual at all, which is terribly disappointing because, c'mon, it's Will Smith! And he is so very, very, very pretty. The other thing, not planning on converting to any other religion and I can't for the life of me remember what his was (I know it wasn't Buddhism and I don't believe it was Muslim. I think he referred to himself as a Maoist which is seriously bizarre and apparently a belief. Where the heck did this come from? Maoism does not appear to actually be a religion per se.

Anyway, marvel at my psyche. Interpret if you would because I'm seriously confused.

Previous Comments:

At 3:12 AM, brooksba said...


Okay. I am consulting the dream book. This may not make any sense, what-so-ever. But maybe it's a triad now. (Did I ever explain that to you? That would be an interesting post. Hmmmm.)

Sending a letter to relatives (note is not in the book): Family quarrels.

Grandchildren being with grandparents: Advancement in health conditions

(Karaoke and duplex are not in the book. Since you didn't actually mention singing or hearing songs, I'm not looking up singing. I think duplex may be important, but not sure what to look up for this.)

Performing in a movie: a change in life will come soon

Dirt - closest I can find is stepping into dirt: Will be leaving your abode

(Did you know that there are meanings for playing lawn tennis in this book? That's an odd one.)

Paint the face of a woman: She deceives you. (Why are you deceiving Will Smith?)

As for religion, the closest I can find is belonging to a religious institution: loss of enemies.

Maoist is not in the book.

The color of gold: will do business with people faraway
Materials of any kind in gold color: abudant means

So as far as I can tell, the first dream means that you're going to fight with someone in your family (probably your mother - that's just me assuming though) about health conditions of yours that are improving.

The second dream:
You are going to get some money, move to a new place but not tell anyone about it. You're going to lose enemies (noisy neighbors???) and the money will come from faraway. Hey, don't our paychecks get cut from another state? And you want Will Smith to paint on your body while other people watch the movie. You voyeur. =)


At 12:37 AM, BC said...

Ok, you weren't listening to "Just the Two of Us" at any point during the previous day were you? This would be just enough to trigger the semantic part of your brain into actually creating the only logical (to you) situation where you two were together. Maybe you had an idea that if you were ever to meet Will Smith, it would be through the movie business. I cannot say why you're id was not unleashed and you did not paint his toenails and call him "sugar" but maybe that happened after the episode you remember. You know me, I need people like you to figure out MY dreams. I know there's a lot of strange dream dust going around. Well, I'll be monitoring,peace

Friday, December 17, 2004

Just Call Me Plague Girl

This morning, as I was finishing up getting ready for work, I hear a not so pleasant sound.

"Gak! Blech! Glaurg!"

This sound was coming from the shower. This sound was coming from Keem. Who managed to throw up approximately 4 times in five minutes. Who also had the chills. This is, as we all know, a sure sign of the stomach flu. Well, to everyone but me, because I asked her "What do you think this is?"

You can imagine Keem's graceful remark to me inbetween vomiting sessions. Well, in case you can't, it was "Um, chills and throwing up? It's the stomach flu." She was not going to make it into work.

I, however, am of hardier stock (and also had not thrown up so really no point to stay home, right?) headed off to the bus, by way of the store, since today we were having a potluck for Linda T.'s last day. Now we will be down to just Linda P. and as you can imagine, we are feeling the Linda shortage.

About halfway to work, my stomach started to hurt. A lot. No reason why, that I could tell. The bus managed to hit every single pothole on the way to work. Every single one. I got to work, exited the bus like the little old lady I was feeling like, and went inside.

I'm of hardy stock. I was fine. What's a little stomach ache?

Well, apparently, it's not just a stomach ache. Remember the potluck I was talking about? Yeah, well, here in Minnesota, that means people bring food. And said food just happened to be set on the counter very close to my desk. And said food, while appearing quite delicious, was also quite fragrant. I lasted an hour before I wandered off, found a manager (mine doesn't start until 10) and told her I was going home.

And I rode the bus back (Keem feels this is a sure sign that I am sick, that I would ride the bus home without complaint) and luckily, managed to wake up before my bus stop. Here's a tip, future bus riders. Tell the bus driver where you're going to be getting off the bus. And sit up front. That way, if you do fall asleep, they will usually wake you up. And yes, I have learned this tip the hard way.

I rode the elevator up to the 26th floor (amazing how horrible and long an elevator ride feels when you're nauseous), said hello to Eddy and stopped to see Keem. Who was somewhat surprised to see me.

Then I went to bed. And just woke up a little while ago, after having a very bizarre dream. The only thing I am going to tell you about this sleeping experience is that I now have to buy new sheets. I hate being sick. You have no control over anything when you're asleep.

Anyway, while I am not dying, I feel quite horrid. Keem does as well. We are now trying to figure out if we have a 24 hour bug or food poisoning.

Do you know what sucks about this the most? Other than the new sheets thing? The fact that tonight is the Christmas Karaoke party. A night I have been looking forward to since oh, December last year, since the last party. And right now, there is no way that either Keem and I are going to be able to make it there.

One good thing about the place where we may or may have not got food poisoning from (probably not because many people at work are sick as well) is where Bryan's (the karaoke host from The Chalet (there are others but he's the only important one. Well, to Beth and myself, anyway)) mother works. So that was fun meeting her officially.

Anyway, I'm back to bed. Talk to you later.

Previous Comments:

At 6:43 PM, The Lioness said...
Dahling, hope you feel better soon, am talking to Beth right now and she told me you were ill. FLUIDS!!!
At 2:46 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...
These sudden illnesses always pop up when there's something we want to do... but where are they when there's something we want desperately to get out of? I've missed three shows this month because of one stupid little chest cold, two of which were Christmas shows and my only opportunities this year to wear my jewel-tone velvet dresses with boots, and to lipsynch favorite Christmas songs by Ella Fitzgerald and Lena Horne. I'd been waiting weeks to perform Vonda Shepard's version of "The Man with the Bag," which is more fun to lipsynch than any song I know.Life just sucks, is all. But I hope you feel better soon.
At 7:55 PM, angelia said...
Dana,I am sorry you and Keem are not feeling well, you are not alone I stayed home from work today because I can barely talk. I must say though, I would rather have bronchitis or a cold compared to the stomach flu or food poisoning. My thoughts are with you, I hope you feel better soon.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

No Brain Aqui

Because the last post was pretty depressing, I bring you humor! Yes, I am a dork.

I was watching an M&M commercial the other day. There are swirls of colorful little candies and I am just fascinated by the fact there are blue M&M’s interspersed with all of the other colors. I turn to Keem and Jeff.

“Are there blue M&M’s now?”

They both stare at me in silence. Keem says, very slowly, “Yes.”

“Oh, yeah, Blue’s my favorite.”

Keem continues with “And you have a suitcase with him on it. Remember? You bought it in Las Vegas?”

Background – My absolute favorite M&M commercial is the one where Blue is sitting in a living room and one of the Baldwin Brothers (Not Alec, I know that much) walks in and says something about how he’s hungry. Blue looks at him and says something about “Aren’t you a Baldwin? That wasn’t very convincing.” The Baldwin Brother apologizes for his horrible acting and goes back outside. Blue runs over and locks the door. Then you hear this knocking and the Baldwin Brother saying “Blue? Blue?” And Blue says “No Blue aqui.” Which means, in case you didn’t know, Blue is not here. Anyway, it amuses me. Even though I don't remember that it amuses me.

Previous Comments:

At 2:22 PM, brooksba said...
You are classic! Thanks for sharing this fun story!
At 4:40 PM, Matt said...
Dana, Dana, Dana, are so funny Futher. I cannot believe that you asked if they had blue M&m's now, like Keem said, you bought a suitcase with one on it. I love it when you make me laugh.....I think I just terrifeid some children in the waiting room at work now. If they were not screaming when they got here, well they are now. Thank you for that.Your Son,The Crazy One
At 12:03 PM, Firebear said...
Not the comercial with the tick?

Sunday, December 12, 2004

The lengths I go to protect my friends - Updated

Okay, Beth, it's done. Sorry it took so long.

It's really weird that I'm finally getting around to writing an update about what happened last Saturday. Beth documented it very well in her post and it was a pretty interesting evening.

Anyway, read the above link so you know what I'm talking about or just take my words for it.

Beth and I ended up at the bar on Saturday and did not see THE BOY or Pete. After receiving an order of soda from the waitress (might I say that the Diet Coke was awful and the lime slices indifferent (yes, in my spare time I critique Diet Coke. Bobby serves the best. There's no question about it)), we sat and watched the interactions between the bar patrons.

I enjoy spending time with Beth. She's a great friend and it's always fun to be around her. But this setting is not my favorite. I'm not a bar person. I don't like them much. This is because I used to drink a lot when I was in my 20's and now I don't. So, unless there's karaoke involved, I don't much see the point. There was no karaoke. After a bit, while trying to have a conversation over the noise, we decide to play darts.

I suck at darts. Just so you know. This game is shaping up to be the longest game in the world. And there are too many people here. Rude, drunk people. I don't like them.

Almost at the end of our game when we see Pete. Just Pete. He is BOYless. The bastard. We are wondering if there was a bit of bait and switch going on. Pete pretty much ignores me and concentrates on Beth. I have no idea of the conversation that is going on because all I can hear is the loud music and the screams of flirtation from the drunk people. Yet, oddly, whenever Beth directs a comment to me, I can hear her.

Have you ever been friends with that one person who can read your mind? When one look can exchange an entire conversation? There's that connection that few people ever get to experience. I've been lucky enough to have that connection with a few people. Keem is one. Beth is another. So even though I can't really hear what she's saying and I've never learned to read lips, everything she is saying to me is crystal clear. How did she end up on a date with Pete? We are asking each other that telepathically. What the hell is going on?

We start playing another game of darts with Pete. We were wrong about the previous game. This is now the longest game of darts ever. EVER. Dude, what is up with the bumping of the knuckles? It is so not bringing me any luck. If it was, THE BOY would be here and you would be handsome and debonair and in to me. And quite possibly English with a witty sense of humor. Since your sense of humor seems to consist of calling all of your friends assholes, you're not that amusing. Well, at least to your face.

Pete wanders off. Beth and I have a quick conversation about what we're going to do to end this evening. I ask her if I should fake an asthma attack. We decide this is a good idea. After this game is over, I'm going to fake one. It's not like I haven't had enough of them in my past to know what they look like.

A million hours later, we are still playing darts. Some guy wanders over and starts talking to Pete. He asks Pete if he wants to go to the neighboring bar, Pig's Lung. I panic. Why do I panic? Many years ago, my bar of choice was the Pig's Lung. My friend Becky and I used to go there every night. I haven't been there in years and I don't want to go back. Not tonight. Not ever.

Pete asks me if I want to go to the Pig's Lung. I tell him to ask Beth. He does. They have a conversation about going. She is not excited about the prospect but he is clueless and doesn't get it. He gives her this inane argument about how she's the prettiest girl there. Um, she's not there. Idiot.

I start coughing. Hard. Beth looks at me in panic. She's not expecting this because the dart game is still going on. Pete is turned the other way when she asks me if I'm okay. I say, in a normal tone of voice (or telepatically because Pete doesn't hear me), "Oh, yeah, I'm fine." I start coughing even harder. Commencing (fake) asthma attack.

When Pete figures out that I am in distress, he is concerned. I am not feeling overly guilty about this because I know that he's only concerned because his BOY free access to Beth is going to be cut off if I get sick. He offers me a glass of water. I want to ask him if he's ever known of a time that water has stopped an asthma attack. Because, really, it won't work. Unless the water is being served by Bobby. But that would be beautiful and there would be karaoke and Perfect Diet Coke with lime slices and Bobby and Bryan and Michael and the beautiful, beautiful Chalet. And THE BOY would be there as well.

Anyway, long story short, we manage to convince him that I am inhalerless and need to go get my inhaler. We leave. And then go and play pool.

The next night, we are at karaoke, oh thank you, God. We are telling Bryan the story. When we get to the part about how he wanted to go to the Pig's Lung, I say "I am not going to the Pig's Lung. I used to hang out at Pig's."

Bryan laughs. "I love the fact that you have your own little name for it even. Pig's."

I continue. "I had sex with a bouncer from Pig's."

The entire table stops and looks at me. Do I shut up? No, I continue. "Yes. In my Grandmother's driveway. While my mom is flashing the porch light. What am I going to do? Go in there and see if he still works there and ask him if he remembers me?"

Later on, when THE BOY shows up, he makes a comment to me after I've finished singing Give Me One Reason (Tracy Chapman) or Thank You (Dido) or well, actually, we don't remember what I sang. But I rocked.

He says, with that half smile on his face, that knowing half smile "You sure sing a hell of a song for someone with asthma."

He knows I faked the asthma attack. He has to know. Especially since I'm sitting there with a cigarette. Not that I smoke. Because that would be wrong. HE KNOWS I FAKED THE ASTHMA ATTACK! And he doesn't care. He thinks it's funny. How cool is that?

There's more to this post but I don't have time to finish it right now. I will leave you with this little tidbit. On Saturday night, when Beth and I were heading to the pool hall and laughing about the fact that I faked the asthma attack, I said this "You know, I wish I would have thought of this the time the really annoying guy was hitting on Becky."

Beth says something like "You didn't?" Or "What happened?"

I continue. "Yeah, this would probably been a better idea than sleeping with him."

Don't you hate it when I leave you hanging like this? Aren't I a bitch?

Okay, to finish my story.

Many years ago, back when I hung out with my friend, Becky, and we used to go to the bar a lot, we ended up at a bar in Stillwater. There we consumed many kamikazes (evil, evil drink that it is).

Some guy named Jim started hitting on Becky. Hard. She tried to be polite and dissuade him. She tried to be nice and convince him she wasn’t interested. It didn’t work. We then tried telling him that we were lovers and I was annoyed that he was hitting on my woman. That didn’t work. In fact, that intrigued him even more. We tried getting up and walking away. He followed us.

At one point, we mentioned that we were married (not to each other) and had children. Becky said she had 3, I said I had 5. I’m not sure where that number came from. This is how persistent this man was. He told me I had a great body for someone who had 5 kids. Now, I was thinner then but still, it’s a cheesy line. I know I try to get his attention away from Becky because she’s my friend and I’m trying to protect her.

The rest of the evening is vague. Probably because of the amount of alcohol I had consumed. Plus, this was a long time ago. I know it was before we moved to Madison but I’m not sure when exactly. I do know it was during the late 80’s. I met Becky when I was going to college so that was either 1985 or 1986. We moved to Madison in 1989 or 1990. I’m not good with this math thing. Or the memory thing. You may have noticed this before.

I do know that, at one point, this guy and I ended up walking through the streets of Stillwater. I have no idea where Becky is. I have no idea where we are. Suddenly we end up at this partially constructed building. Somehow he talks me into exploring it.

Then we are kissing. Why? He’s not the best looking guy I’ve ever seen. I’m really not that interested in him at all since I have this horrible, heart-wrenching crush on some guy named Tim (who now I can barely remember but at the time, well, he was absolutely wonderful and I adored him). But I’m lonely and Tim’s not interested (gay, not that I knew it at the time) and this guy is there so what the heck. What’s a little kissing going to hurt?

The next thing I know, Jim has lifted me up onto one of the planks in the construction area. This gives me an idea that he’s pretty strong because even though I was thinner then, I probably weighed about 200 pounds (how weird is it that I would love weighing 200 again?). I don’t know about you but I certainly can’t lift 200 pounds. So he’s definitely stronger than me.

We continue kissing. I’m completely out of it. I don’t remember much more than the kissing. Except that, the next thing I know, I’m naked, he’s (oh, how do I say this tactfully…) visiting and it hurts. Splinters from the boards, absolutely (again, with the tact) no excitement on my part and therefore, the friction was not so pleasant. So I ask him to stop.

This is what he says to me. “I’m almost done.”

Um, hey, Mr. “Let Me Invade Your Personal Space Because You’re Drunk And Don’t Have A Clue As To What Is Going On” Jim, I don’t care that you’re almost done. This hurts. Stop now.

He doesn’t. I know that he’s stronger than me, I know that’s there not much I can do about this and quite frankly, at this point, the best that I can do is just lie back, pretend that he’s Tim and hope that he finishes quickly. Thinking about Tim brings a bit more enthusiasm on my part. At least it doesn’t hurt any more (except for the splinters).

I think I mentioned that I was extremely lonely, right? That’s about the only thing that explains what happened next. I look him straight in the eyes. “Tell me you love me,” I demand. He complies.

I then start calling him Tim. As in “I love you, Tim.” He took offense to this. “My name’s Jim,” he says. I, in my brusque, “I don’t really give a damn what your name is, jerk” fashion say “I KNOW what your name is.” And then I call him Tim again.

He finally finishes. I get up, get dressed and walk away. He calls after me “Hey, don’t you want a ride?” I keep walking, crying the entire way. I find my way back to the bar. No Becky. I ask the guy she had been talking to if he’d seen her. He says, after looking at my tear-stained face, “Are you okay? She was looking for you but when she couldn’t find you, she left.”

Great. I’m stranded in Stillwater. I’m drunk, I’ve just been through a situation that may or may not be considered acquaintance rape (due to the fact that I had asked him to stop and he wouldn’t), I’m wandering up and down the streets of Stillwater, crying and looking extremely pathetic. This is not good.

At the very depths of my despair, while I am lost (because of course I got lost), I find myself in front of the Stillwater Cemetary. I stare wistfully into the cemetery, at all of the tombstones, and start crying again. “Please help me,” I cry to the dead people. (It’s probably a good thing none of them take me up on it. I would have freaked out). I look up. There I see the light of a Super America. Oh, thank God.

I end up taking a cab home. Becky called me the next day, apologizing profusely for leaving. We had a good cry and it brought us closer together. And that, dear reader, is one of the many reasons why I don’t drink anymore. I have done stupid, stupid things under the influence of alcohol.

Previous Comments:

At 4:54 AM, DeAnn said...
I'm looking forward to the rest, but I have to know: Is "Pig's Lung" a fake name or the real name of the bar?
At 6:56 AM, brooksba said...
DM,You are a great friend. You are so wonderful. I can't say that enough.I am still awake at 7 AM. Why? I don't know. I tried to go to bed 3 1/2 hours ago and I've decided to give up for a little bit. ARGH!DeAnn - Pig's Lung is a fake name, but a great fake name! Beth
At 7:14 AM, The Lioness said...
Yes. A bitch. And don't let me hear you call me daft again, woman. Because I SO BLOODY AM!!!
At 3:58 AM, brooksba said...
DM,Would you finish this already??? Are you ignoring your adoring public? What type of treatment is that from the Queen. If you keep this up, you may find mutiny in the ranks. Speaking of ranks, what rank am I? Do I get a title, or am I just like a wench or something? Okay, losing it now. Beth
At 10:15 AM, Matt said...
Futher,Please finish the rest of this, I am so hanging on to a thread. Please, please, pleae,please!!!!!!!!!! Do not make me summon the Skank Trolls to come into your apartment and create some California Nightmaring, becauser you know that all I have to do to have that happen is sing a Tom Petty song and they will be appeased. Who knows, thier scary veneer may even melt away and show us a beautiful princ.....I am sorry, I could not finish that thought without laughing. No, Skank Trolls they are, and Skank Trolls they shall remain. Your son,???
At 10:15 AM, Matt said...
Futher,Please finish the rest of this, I am so hanging on to a thread. Please, please, pleae,please!!!!!!!!!! Do not make me summon the Skank Trolls to come into your apartment and create some California Nightmaring, becauser you know that all I have to do to have that happen is sing a Tom Petty song and they will be appeased. Who knows, thier scary veneer may even melt away and show us a beautiful princ.....I am sorry, I could not finish that thought without laughing. No, Skank Trolls they are, and Skank Trolls they shall remain. Your son,???
At 2:21 PM, brooksba said...
DM,I'm sorry you had to go through this. I am glad that we're not the type to go get drunk at bars and believe me, I would get to that point where I scare everyone if some jerk did this to you while I was around. He'd better watch out for his precious jewels. I hope that writing it down helped cleanse. It's amazing the power that talking/writing has. You are a great friend to protect me (I'm so glad it was an asthma attack that you picked - please, don't sleep with Pete - he's icky). I love you. You don't deserve to EVER be treated like this. And you should know that. I know you do. And if I can't beat them up, I know a few members of the intimidating club. (Think - Matt and Scott.) They'd be right there, destroying all aspects of a jerk's body and mind. Okay, rambling. Just wanted you to know that you are special and I love you. You're one of the greatest people I've ever known. I'm so glad I know you.Beth
At 6:16 PM, The Lioness said...
I am so in awe of your honesty, your capability to just purge, you are, er, "full of awesomeness" (trying to emulate you, figuring that if I use it it will stop BEING BLOODY AWFUL and hence purged). And you do it w grace, style and HUMOUR, my God, how can something so horrible be this funny? I blame you. "“Please help me,” I cry to the dead people. It’s probably a good thing none of them take me up on it. I would have freaked out)."You're fucking hilarious!!!