Thursday, September 30, 2004

Even a Queen of the Universe needs an Arch-Nemisis

A few people have asked about the Cream Puff Man. What can I tell you? He is more Spock to my Kirk than Beth ever was, is or will be. He is UberSpock. He is evil and putrid and I hate him. I hate him with a fiery passion than consumes my body with fire and hatred and passion and ooh! God, I hate him.

Why is he called the Cream Puff Man? My absolute favorite movie of all time (I have favorite movies for different genres, this trumps them all) is The Imposters. I love this movie. It combines silliness on many different levels with excellent acting and Stanley Tucci. Have I mentioned that I love Stanley Tucci? Sigh. His smile, his eyes, his ability to have hissy fits, ah, Stanley Tucci, you are the master. And Oliver Platt is also in this movie and I also love him but not as fervently as I love Stanley Tucci (I have many different degrees of love that I'm not even sure how I keep them all straight).

Anyway, long story short (too late), Oliver Platt and Stanley Tucci are Maurice and Arthur, starving actors. My favorite scene is when Maurice (Oliver Platt) visits Kramer's bakery. The plan is to insult the baker and then Arthur (Stanley Tucci) will come to the rescue and be rewarded with baked goods. Maurice insinuates that the pastries are not fresh. The baker offers him a cream puff. Now, Maurice is starving so he inhales the cream puff and then has to pretend he hates it. However, the baker is not insulted and, when Arthur steps up to defend him, ticks the baker off and Maurice is the one who ends up defending the baker. He chases Arthur off and the baker wishes to reward him. Maurice asks him for a cream puff. The baker replies "Oh, no, you hate the cream puffs." Okay, maybe you have to see it but I love it (there is a point to this. It comes later. I'll highlight it for you).

I had absolutely no interest in Cream Puff Man. None. Until one day, while I was waiting at NABABNA, he came up and started talking to me while I waited for Keem. I was playing a computer game. He had been headed out and decided to talk to me. Unbeknowst to me, Keem and Beth walked up behind us and stood there, watching. Apparently, 20 minutes went by in which Cream Puff Man and I were talking about really stupid stuff. After he left, Beth and Keem come over and start saying "Oh, he likes you. You like him. He must like you, why would he spend 20 minutes talking to you about nothing? Why was he grinning like that?"

I thought they were crazy. But then I thought about it. He did spend an awful lot of time seeking me out. When I went to check the mail, I always made sure I went by his desk. If he wasn't there, I felt like something was missing. I noticed when he wore blue. I liked it when he wore blue. Did I like him? No. Couldn't be. And he didn't like me. I told Beth he was just a cream puff! I didn't like the cream puffs. She didn't get it. I explained what I meant ( Sometimes I get a little weird for even my friends). Then, shortly after this, he came up to me when I was leaning over a counter, casually talking to my team.

Have you have seen While You Were Sleeping? When Bill Pullman leans up to Sandra Bullock and says "There's leaning and then there's leaning?" Yeah. So I got leaned. Nothing major, just this sidling until his arm was resting right up against my arm. I sit there for a second. My mind does this internal processing thing that it tends to do every once in awhile.

  1. Hmm. It's Cream Puff Man.
  2. Cream Puff Man's arm is touching mine.
  3. Do I like this? This arm touching thing?
  4. Oh, my God, I think I do. I think I like Cream Puff Man (oh, that's it. For the remainder of this post, he's Puffy). Oh, my God. This is so wrong.

During this same time, he also allowed me to go through his wallet and let me borrow his Barnes and Noble card. I tried to talk him into giving me money but it didn't work.

There was the occasional glance, the half smile, the fake arguments. The song "Let's Give Them Something To Talk About" took on new meaning. There was flirtation. Actual flirtation. I am not making this up. I have witnesses.

So the thought of Puffy was lodged in my brain and I couldn't get it out. This was bad. So bad that I actually thought "Hey, I'm tired of this. I'm a happening chick. I'm going to make a move ( No. I did not actually think that I'm a happening chick. I don't actually talk like that. Well, not much anyway)."

Yeah. That was a mistake. He tells me he doesn't date co-workers. Okay. Then why the hell do you flirt with them, jackass? What the hell is that? Again, I have witnesses.

Anyway. It's been well over a year since I made that blunder. Today was the last day I will ever have to see him again. Believe me when I say it did not take me long to get over Puffy. I think it was a record for me, all of two hours. I was on serious crack. I walked around for weeks, smacking myself in the head and saying "What was I thinking?" Actually, occasionally I will still do it. All anyone has to say is "You liked Cream Puff Man." To which I will reply (after smacking & saying WWIT?) "No. It was a hallucination brought on by the massive amounts of crack I was apparently smoking."

It's good that he rejected me. I was able to move past the fake image I had of him and recognize him for what he is - a guy who thinks he's right about everything, continually mocked my sense of logic (which is lacking, I will admit, but should not be mocked) and has the hardest time admitting he was wrong. And the funny thing is, I'm not bitter about this. I knew who he was all the time. I think I just liked the idea of him "liking" me. It took me a long time to realize I don't need a guy to make me happy. Apparently, during the Puffy experience, I took a detour on the What Was I Thinking? train to the Crack Station. Now I'm back in the slightly insane, charmingly askew universe of which I am Queen. I am happy to be here. Someday, there will be the right guy for me. I can guarantee the first thing I'm doing if some guy tells me he likes me - he reads my blog. And all my friends will have to approve of him. They were really glad when I was over Puffy. There were cries of rejoicing. It's probably not a good sign when you mention you like someone to a friend and they almost throw up, huh?

Previous Comments:

At 4:06 AM, DeAnn said...
I was getting my movie references all mixed up, because I was completely thinking of "Ghostbusters"!!

At 5:04 AM, brooksba said...
Oh Dana, Dana. You are lucky to no longer see Puffy. You never needed him. For the record, the idea of him liking you was not originally mine, I'm just the one who passed the word onto you. Remember a certain banker, silly, fun, sarcastic, and looked a little bit like Conan O'Brien (oh, remember his shoulders... Oops, side-tracked) who started this mess?

I'm glad you're crack free. His crack made plumbers look sexy. Seriously. He's a jerk, stupid to pass up the opportunity to enjoy the company of one of the best people on earth, and he thinks he's right, but hardly ever is. He's an expert on everything, or at least he thinks he is.

I just cry knowing you'll never see him again, but I still have to. Can I kick him? Please? Oh wait, I'll get fired. That would suck. Maybe no violence at work.

At 12:43 PM, CarpeDM said...
I'm so sorry you still have to see him. Violence at work is not a good idea.

This cleansing thing is such a good idea. I can read over this and laugh, remembering how I struggled with the idea that I might actually like him. God, that was horrible. All the smacking of the head every time I thought about him.

What did I ever see in him? I think back on this and I can't imagine how I ever thought it would work out. I would have killed him in 3 days with all of his constant buzz harshing.

Someday there will be a guy who understands me. He may calmly keep me from doing stupid things (like, oh, I don't know, stabbing annoying people with forks) like you, Keem and Matt do but he'll still have a great sense of humor and all of my friends will like him. And not want to throw up.


Well, this is it. Or, it will be it in about 45 minutes. My desk is cleaned out, my bags are packed, I'm out the door. Off to a new adventure with NABABNA.

There are a lot of people I'm going to miss here and I hope they all realize it. I spent a lot time making cards, of course I did not make enough because I am a slacker. At the last minute I grabbed a pack of make your own bookmarks this morning. I'm glad I did because I used every single one. Plus all the cards I made. Plus the magnets that I made last night. Then I wrote a personal note on the bookmarks. And the cards. My carpal tunnel is screaming at me. Loudly.

Beth and I are off to Perkins tonight. My last Thursday night hanging out until 11:30. I'm beat, I've been here since 7:30 and it's been an emotional week, counting down the days until it was over.

I'm very excited about my new job but I will miss this call center. I'll miss seeing Beth for those 3 hours a week we get to see each other. I'll miss my team and Mike, my boss. Of course, my new boss is named Mike as well so it should be interesting.

Anyway, to those of you still in the NABABNA call center, good luck, I'll miss you.

Buddy and Lady B, the owl flies at midnight.

Wednesday, September 29, 2004


Two days to the end. Tomorrow is my last day in the NABABNA national call center. Monday I start at a new call center for NABABNA (which is really kind of confusing but hey, Keem will also work there and she will make sure I get there okay).

It's weird, reminds me of my senior year in high school. Everything takes on such meaning. "Oh, this is the last time I'll have this type of moment. Ohhhhh. How sad." You know what I mean.

Except for the escalated calls. I'm not going to miss them. I came very close to telling a customer today that I didn't care that he couldn't use his ATM card at non-NABABNA ATMs and hanging up on him. And I know that would be wrong. Although it would be very, very fun.

Anyway, the reason I haven't been blogging much lately is because I'm trying to make cards for my bankers and I am not the most creative person in the world (well, at least where stamping is concerned).

Starting Monday, I'll be in training for about a month. And then I'll be blogging a lot more. You'll probably get sick of me. Apparently, when it's slow, you can go online and do pretty much anything.

This is a dream job. Blog. Get paid for it.


Previous Comments:

At 12:23 AM, brooksba said...
I'm happy for you, but I'm sad for me. No more will I be able to stand up at work and see Dana at her desk. No more will I be able to have you at team lead meetings laughing with the group. You are going onto bigger and better things but please don't forget us! I mean it.

At 10:38 PM, CarpeDM said...
How would I possibly forget you? That's impossible. You are Beth. You are unforgettable.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

The Weekend Update

Odd, isn't it, that it's Tuesday and I'm doing a weekend update. Ah, the wonders of my active social life. My time is wanted and enjoyed by all. Yeah, I'm laughing as well.

But I was busy. Friday night was the Melissa Etheridge concert, of which I have already posted.
Saturday night was house-sitting at Bob and Paul's (friends of Keem). Since I don't drive and work on Sundays (not anymore! Monday through Friday here I come!), I went out to Shakopee with Keem.

Just a note, I don't like plants. Or spending the night in a strange house. I was convinced all night that the plants were going to rise up and strangle me. There were a lot of plants.

Sunday was karaoke! Always fun. Beth and I've decided that, unless we post otherwise, we want not going to karaoke to be the exception. So, if you have nothing to do on a Sunday night and would like to spend some quality time with Beth and I, come on up to the Chalet in Saint Paul. Everyone's welcome.

Yesterday was Keem's birthday. We went to Applebee's with Beth. Then we went to a stamp store where I spent money. Ah, stamping. It'll be fun. I'm weak. Give me a scrapbook or stamping store and my debit card leaps out of my purse all on it's own.

Tonight I will be making cards. It will be fun.

Previous Comments:
At 5:19 AM, Beleobus said...
Greetings. While doing some maintenance on my own Blog, I found your comment regarding Allo Allo and Rowan Atkinson. You can write to him care of his manager at 5 Soho Square, London W1V5DE. Give him my regards if you will. By the way... I'm NOT kidding.

Monday, September 27, 2004

"Blog much," she said, as she drove away.

To which I reply "Ha!"

I tried. However, today is Keem's birthday. Let us all take a moment to sing happy birthday to Keem. The louder and more off key the better. Keem likes that. It reminds her of karaoke. Which she likes to go to with Dana and Beth.

Okay, she hates karaoke. And doesn't go with us. And for that reason more, we should sing loudly. Because it's fun.

Happy birthday, Keem. You are still younger than me. But that's okay. I will get my revenge somehow. Possibly by world domination. You know how these things go.

In honor of Keem's birthday, I went to lunch with her (reason why there was no blogging) and have been expressly forbidden from using the phrase "blah blah blah, blah blah." Which is not fair. But Keem is demanding a blah free day.

Later today, Keem would like to go to a movie and to dinner. However, since it is 12:30 and I am on my break right now (My last break for the day. Before I leave at 4:00. Yes, this world is injust), I am unable to see which movies are playing. Keem would like to see either First Daughter or Wimbledon.

So, Beth, when you read this, give either Keem or myself a call. We'll work out plans.

And, in honor of Keem, may your day be happy and bright and blah free.

Previous Comments:
At 2:58 AM, DeAnn said...
Happy Birthday, Keem!! Even though I don't know you, I wish you the best.

At 8:25 AM, Firebear said...
Lunch, dinner, and a movie! And you said you don't date!

At 1:46 PM, CarpeDM said...
Keem acknowledges your birthday wishes. Actually, she probably won't. Because she never reads my blog. Which is wrong. Everyone should read my blog.I will have to email this post to her and hopefully she will read it.

Sunday, September 26, 2004

Ah, if I could only use my power for good

You are an enzyme. You are powerful, dark,
variable, and can change many things at your
whim...even when they're not supposed to be
changed. Bad you. You can be dangerous or
wonderful; it's your choice.

Which Biological Molecule Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Previous Comment:

At 2:25 AM, DeAnn said...
That quiz is bizarre. Seriously ... how does it know you're an enzyme?!

Giant or Keeping The Lights On

I've done some posts about things that have happened in my past, things that I thought were funny, in a "Oh, my God, does my life ever suck" kind of way. It took a comment from Beth to realize that what I'm actually doing is cleansing. Rubbing the stains off of my soul.

There will still be posts of some of the collossal mistakes that I made. There's a lot of crap buried deep within my psyche that needs to come out but I just want to let you all know that this is part of the journey. From the time I was 15, I have been on a one-way path of destruction and despair. I am starting to come out of the darkness and into the light.

I gave Beth an "assignment" one night at karaoke, to write a murder mystery. She finally let me read some of the chapters but still won't let me know who the killer is (dang her (and no, I don't really want to know. It'll be more fun to see if I can figure it out on my own)). The character that is loosely based on me has just recently published a novel called "Keeping The Lights On." There was no plot, no character names, just the title.

It intrigued me. I started thinking about what that title meant. Was it about keeping the lights on during sex? No. It was about hope and recovery and coming out of the darkness. This is something I know about and we are always told to write what we know. I know despair. I know depression. I know darkness. They are my demons. I had a counselor once who helped bring me out of my last serious depression by telling me to that all of the voices inside my head that tell me how much I suck are my demons. And I should imagine that I am Xena, Warrior Princess and fight back. Well, it took awhile to sink in but that's what I've been doing. Kicking some demon ass, turning my life around, coming out of the darkness.

So I will be writing "Keeping The Lights On" as my "assignment." To help remind me that that's what I'm doing every day that I get out of bed when I really don't want to, when I go to meet friends when I'd rather stay home and when I push the plate away when I'm no longer hungry.

I have left the darkness behind, I am traveling through the shadows and I am headed into the light. And, at a pivotal moment of my life, when I am finally aware of what I am doing, I saw Melissa Etheridge stand on stage and sing this song.


You tried to hold us down
You tried to hold us back
You tried to make us wrong
You tried to make us crack
You wanted to see us cry
You wanted to see us leave
You didn't count on the tide
You didn't count on the pride
You didn't count on me

I am a giant
And you will not make me fall
And you will not make me crawl
I am a giant
And I'm not alone
Winds of change have blown
And walls come tumbling down

And I learned from my mistakes
Pick myself up of the floor
I have learned just what it takes
Now I am stronger than before
And we are standing side by side
We are determined now to win
We come too far
And we've got the scares
And we are never going back into the shadows again

I am a giant
And you will not make me fall
And you will not make me crawl
I am a giant
And I'm not alone
Winds of change have blown
How the walls come tumbling down

Wow. I realize that this was probably written about gay pride and the fight for equal rights (which, dammit, are for everyone) but it could also be about depression.

I am a giant. And I am never going back into the shadows again.

Previous Comments:
At 1:55 PM, The Lioness said...


At 5:24 PM, brooksba said...

Great post Dana. You are a giant. I can't wait to see "Keep the Lights On" when it's finished. It's going to be great! Stay strong, never let anyone push you down.

This sounds like rock and/or roll

As Beth's post indicates, a good time was had by all on Friday night. I knew of Melissa Etheridge, of course, but had never really heard anything outside of "Come to My Window." Meeting Beth has exposed me to a lot of different music, BNL, Matchbox 20, Cowboy Mouth, Melissa Etheridge, Bree Sharp, Paul Simon, even Garth Brooks.

I guess what I should say is that I knew of these artists (except for Cowboy Mouth and Bree Sharp) but I didn't get to know them. Beth is the type of person who will listen to one artist repeatedly. Whoever she is in the mood to listen to will actually be in the car stereo for weeks at a time. I love this. I get to discover music that's been around for awhile that I might not have heard if it wasn't for Beth.

Anyway, the concert was amazing. I, too, am a child of the 80's and I liked the hair bands (Poison, Guns N Roses, Bon Jovi) and the non-hair bands (Billy Idol, Debbie Gibson (Now there's a musical pairing that would scare many people)). I especially loved music that rocked. Everything rocked in the 80's. Things were rockin' (My manager boss used the word rockin' in a meeting once. The first thing out of my mouth was "You're from the 80's!"). Anyway, for me, music that rocked was something that had a good beat and you could dance to (except I don't really dance, I sort of, well, I have no idea how to explain it, shuffle my feet rapidly), something you could feel the beat come through the speakers and into your soul.

Beth talked about how you felt like you could reach out and feel the love in the room. I have to agree with that. I could not stop smiling. It was so great to be in a room where there was no hatred, no prejudice. I saw all male couples, I saw all female couples, I saw male and female couples. It made me so happy to be someplace where it didn't matter if you were gay or straight, no one cared. All we cared about was the music.

Well, I must admit that I also cared very deeply about the guitar player. Oh, my God, was he hot. And the energy he brought to the stage. Reminded me of Lenny Kravitz, except white (and blond).

Melissa Etheridge rocks and rolls. There are no other words for it. I caught myself banging my head (or nodding my head rapidly) at times. Our seats were incredible, you could see every expression on her face, her smile, her eye rolls. She has incredibly expressive eyes. And the voice of an angel. If you've never heard any of her music, run out now and buy "Lucky" right now. I will be doing a post about track #10 (Giant) shortly. Here is something Beth wrote about track #9 (Tuesday Morning).

Previous Comments:
At 5:30 PM, brooksba said...

Fantastic. I loved this post Dana. I felt the power of the concert all over again. It's a feeling I want to hold onto with both hands and never let slip away. I am so glad that you were willing to come to the concert with me. I have such a better experience when I can see people I care about discovering the joy of a musician. It's like watching what I originally felt find its way into the heart of another. The recognition of happiness cannot be held back and it spreads across the face. This concert reminded me that energy can be seen. It reminded me that power can be felt. It reminded me that all could be good. I am so happy you enjoyed the show.

At 9:21 AM, Firebear said...

Glad to hear it wyou had a great time. Its always good to have a friend who is welling to expose themselves to you.

Friday, September 24, 2004

Okay. One more for the day. Must. Not. Meme. Anymore.

The Thirties.

Which Decade Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

This is not surprising, considering that when someone recently asked me what I had wanted to be growing up, my response was:

Writer. Super Friend. Gangster's Moll.

The music was cool, the dress styles, the dances.

Yes, I'm talking about the Gangster's Moll thing, not being a Super Friend. But wasn't Aqua Man hot?

Previous Comments:
At 1:35 AM, angelia said...

I am the 30's too

Now all I need is a fiance

You are a sexy bride.
Yummy! You are a sexy bride!

What Kind of Bride Will You Be?

Yeah. Sexy. That's me. Although, I am intrigued by the use of the word vixen (former screen name (combined with troubled. Oh, just read the post)). And the dress is kind of cool.

Dang you, Beth. Dang you and your memes! I can get so hooked on these things.

Hmm. Interesting.

Take The Ewan McGregor Test!

Kind of fitting, with some of my recent posts about how depressing (yet still funny in a "Oh, my God, why do these things happen to me?" kind of way) my life used to be. And how my attitude has changed.

Has anyone seen this movie? Would I like it?

Previous Comments:
At 7:52 AM, Firebear said...

The movie that put Ewan on the map. I don't know if you would like it. One of my favorite Ewan movie's that I would suggest is "Little Voice".

A new link from frog!

Okay, to those of you who have actually read (or already know) the post on what a green duckie is, you will understand why this link makes me happy.

Those of you who don't, here the green duckie link is again. Go read it. Marvel at the insanity that is Dana. Marvel at the cool-headed logic that is Beth.

Anyway, I like frogs. They are cool. I also like rubber ducks. And I like green duckies (and rubber duckies as well. And, okay, birds are pretty cool).

Someday, after I move to my new desk at NABABNA, I will liberate Sir Lee from the acrylic jar he is stuffed into (hey, I wanted to make sure he made it in one piece) and take his picture. He is one of my favorite frogs. He is rubber filled with liquid and he has this half-smile, half sneer on his face and he looks surly (hence the name). I like him. He squishes when you squeeze him (but not too hard because I would be upset if he burst).

Thursday, September 23, 2004

Links from frog

I've been reading frog's blog for awhile and I am constantly finding new things. She's a very good writer, so if you have a chance, go on over to her site and read for yourself.

Here are the two things she's brought to my attention in the last few days:

Books for Kids (the following is in her words) - If you have some time, a little bit of cash, and an interest in kids reading, visit this link. That’s the wish list for Wingate Elementary in Wingate, NC. They need some books. Go help them, if you can. And post a link on your blog, if you would. It’s an easy, concrete thing to do that will help kids. What could be better, really? Nods to zawadii for the information, and to Books for Kids, for the excellent work that they do.

The Ally button (again, in her words) - If you're interested in sporting your very own LGBT ally button, you can order them online here. It's button #1607, and if you scroll down a bit, you can see a photo of it on the left-hand side of the screen. Or, better yet, support your local LGBT bookstore by purchasing one there (unless they're out of them, as ours is...).

And, what I just realized, after searching her blog again, trying to find the thing about the Ally button, the song that's been stuck in the back of my head for months is Blackbird by The Beatles. Great links, writing and the answer to the burning question "What song is making Dana go insane today?" What more could you ask for?

So, when you see me someday now the future, you'll be seeing me with my Ally button & my I'm straight but not narrow button, walking with a spring in my step because I'm helping kids read and I won't be slapping my head trying to get that damn song out of there. All thanks to frog.

Previous Comments:

At 3:44 AM, DeAnn said...

I have added her to my blogroll.That is one ringing endorsement. She must be VERY happy!

At 7:44 AM, frog said...

A thousand thanks for the kind words, Dana. :)

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

The Tale of the Blue Stiffy

I'm just going to state this once. If you have not read the following posts, you will have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about. And, for the uninitiated, WWIT? stands for "What Was I Thinking?" and is sometimes accompanied with brisk slaps to my head (that's another post - about the Cream Puff Man and why he annoys me). So, in no particular order, here are the posts you might want to read to make sense of the story about to unfold:

A story of my former fiance (what you're looking for is at the very end and is blue), A poem written about a particular red-headed jackass, The story of my first kiss. Actually, you should probably read it in reverse order - kiss, poem, former fiance. It'll make more sense. Or just read on.

Okay. So (at the time of this incident, not now) I am 15. I have just received my first kiss the month before. I am going to sleep over at a friend's house. I have met said friend because my mother, for some odd reason, decided I needed the help of a psychologist and enrolled me in "group." I do not remember the names of the girls that I was in group with (Hmm, could it be because this was 23 years ago and I have a hard time remember what I did yesterday? Could be) so we will assign them names - Maddie (Raped repeatedly by her father, hated men, trying to date someone but it wasn't working so well with the whole hating men thing, plus she had trust issues because she went to the dentist and woke up and her shirt was unbuttoned...oh, did I mention she was 13?), Pam (didn't get along with her parents at all, may have possibly tried to kill either herself or her little sister) and some other girl I didn't like.

My dad comes to pick me up and drive me over to Maddie's apartment building. Oh, how lucky for me, it is 3 in the afternoon and Dad's been drinking. It is a fun ride while I pray very hard to not die. Fortunately, I do not.

Maddie's brother is in a full body cast due to some disease where he had to have an operation. He is allowed to have a friend spend the night. The friend's name is Dean. I don't remember the brother's name. Maybe it is Tony. And actually, Maddie's name is Trish (can't believe I remembered this). Okay. Dean (which I keep typing as Dead (Hmm, I might have issues), Tony, Trish. I do not remember the mother's name.

Are you lost yet? Sorry. Here's what I remember about the first night. Fried egg sandwiches. Listening to Chicago. Listening to Dean on the phone with a girlfriend and giggling while we were in the kitchen.

The second night:

Trish wasn't feeling good and went to bed. I am playing Scrabble with Tony and Dean. Dean keeps making comments I don't understand (or remember them now). Tony tells him to leave me alone. Dean makes another comment. I, feeling brave by the attention, indicate I would have no idea what he was talking about because I had received my first kiss a month ago. Tony says "Dean, leave her alone. I'm serious. She's just a kid."

We finish playing Scrabble and are watching baseball. Dean makes remarks about first base, second base, etc. I still have no real idea what he was talking about. I am very naive. I have never had a boyfriend, never had any guy show any interest in me before. I am flustered and have no idea how to flirt. Tony mentions to Dean to leave me alone again but then falls asleep.

Dean and I are still watching baseball. Dean says something, I look up and he runs his hand over my chest. I don't say anything. I don't know why. Maybe because I'm tired of never having anyone interested in me because I'm chubby, maybe because I want to go back to school with a tale of how a boy touched me to be cool for once (yes, because I so wanted to fit in with the snobby rich girls who were complete bitches to me. What was I thinking?).

Dean runs his hand over my chest again. I still don't react. What am I supposed to do? He takes my hand and leads me out to the living room. Trish's mom is there. He tells her he misplaced his keys out by the pool and needs to go look for them. He asks me to come with him.

We head out into the hallway. He leads me off to the first floor of the building. I say "Didn't you lose your keys?" He says "No. I used that as an excuse to spend some time with you." I am flattered by this. He brings me to the laundry room.

It is here (I think) that he finally kisses me. Twice. My first french kiss. My second. My first time kissing a boy who kisses like a Saint Bernard. This and the two passes across my chest seem to be all the foreplay I'm going to get. Suddenly I am being undressed. I stop and pull back. What's going on? It is here that changes the entire track of my life. It is here that Dean says "I love you."

Right now I am a fairly intelligent woman. I am a bit more cynical than I used to be where men are concerned, especially when they express attraction to me (please, I have a mirror), I (sometimes) spend a little bit more time making a decision. But here, back in 1981, I am 15, I am lonely, I am not so bright where men are concerned.

I allow him to continue undressing me. When he puts his hand on my zipper, I step back. He says and I quote "You would if you loved me." This is the first and last time you will ever see me swear like this. But Dean is a god-damned son of a fucking bitch and I hope he rots in hell (Sorry, God. Please don't smite me. You know I hate to use your name in vain). Okay, no, I don't, I have forgiven him but a part of me is always going to hate him for this. A part of me is always going to hate me for this. I looked at him, into his big brown eyes and fell for the oldest line in the book. I did not think "Hmm, Dana, you've known him for a little over 24 hours. How could you possibly love him? How could he possibly love you?" No. What I thought was "If I don't, he won't like me anymore."

If I don't, he won't like me anymore. Argh! Like I was ever going to see him again. Like I was ever going to see any of them again (the any of them would refer to the men following Dean, where I felt guilty because I let this jackass touch me and therefore, I must allow anyone who shows the slightest interest in me the same favors). As much as I have missed sex, as much as the seven years of celibacy have irritated me at times, I am so glad for it since it helped me break this cycle.

Now that I've completely depressed you, here is the time where it is okay to laugh because I laugh. I was a very naive little girl. I've grown up a lot since this night in the laundry room. So, seriously, go ahead and laugh during these next paragraphs. It's okay.

I am standing in the laundry room. I am naked. Dean is fully dressed. He tells me to hold on a second and disappears into the other room. When he comes back, he is completely naked. I am staring at him, puzzled. There is something about him that I just don't understand.

When I was 12, my mother provided me with a book and said "If you have any questions, come see me." It was a book about changes, puberty, etc. There were pictures of men and women naked. There were pictures of penises. However, none of the penises were ever erect. So, when Dean walked out of the other room, naked except for the condom he was wearing, I seriously thought that the penis would turn blue when erect. After all, I had heard about blue balls. This made complete sense to me. Erect = Blue.

Now, I am a short woman. I am 5'4". At 15, I was maybe 5'2". Does Dean take this into consideration? No. He tries to have sex with me against the wall. It doesn't work, he's a foot taller than me. What an idiot. This does not work at all, especially, since, hey, I'm a virgin! I have no idea what you're doing.

After a few minutes of his attempting to adjust things, he decides to have us lie on the floor. Oh, the romance of cold concrete. Oh, thank you so much, Dean, for making a pillow for my head out of your clothes. My, what a lover you are. Oh, baby, oh, baby, oh.

Dean lies on top of me. I have no idea what he is doing. There is some moving of the blue penis in the general vaginal area. I lie there and think about the really hot guy I work with and how it would be different if he was here. I remember thinking "Is this seriously what they write love songs about?"

Approximately 5 minutes pass. Dean shudders on top of me. I am still thinking of the hot guy and don't notice. Dean says "I'm done." I watch him remove the blue and realize that he was wearing a condom. We go back upstairs. The next day, I leave him a note with my phone number. I never hear from him. Two weeks later, after telling Trish about what happened, she calls me. "Yeah, I talked to Dean. He says he never touched you."

I am furious. I spent two entire weeks waiting for him to call (and also convinced that I am pregnant) and he lies about this? I tell her exactly what I am thinking "Oh, I cannot believe he would lie about this. What an ass. Well, that's fine. He was horrible and kissed like a Saint Bernard. A total slobberer."

I hear a sharp intake of breath. "You bitch!" I hear Dean say. The phone disconnects. Oh. I think I hurt his feelings. What a shame. Group disbanded shortly after that. I never saw Trish, Dean or Tony again.

An added note - 3 years later, my boyfriend and I are having sex for the first time in the backseat of his Omega (small, small hatchback car). Mark penetrates. There is pain. Pain I never believed would be possible. I scream "Damn you, Dean!" Mark is less than pleased and I have to explain to him all about how I lost my virginity in a laundry room and here it turns out that Dean's not just a bad kisser, he's bad at everything. Oh, and in case you're wondering, foreplay did consist of the two kisses and the two passes over my breasts. That's it. What a stud.

So, this is the story of, in the words of The Lioness, the tale of the blue stiffy. It sounds like a Nancy Drew mystery, doesn't it? Actually, I think I might change the title of this post to that. This was origionally called "The first departure of the WWIT? train."

Previous Comments:

At 10:52 PM, brooksba said...
Thank you for sharing this story Dana. I have to add something about Dean (forgive me), he was a dirty-faced, lying sack of shit, waste of flesh moron who was too stupid to ever deserve the wonderfulness that is my friend.

Now that you see the story of Dean pissed me off royally (big-big do ye ken? - Sorry, I'm on a break from The Dark Tower, couldn't resist), you may wonder why I thanked you for writing it. That's a fabulous question and I'm happy to answer it (oh no, can you just see Dark Tower and customer service coming together? That may be more frightening than anything Stephen King, Dean Koontz, etc. has ever written).

I thank you because I think it was healthy for you to cleanse yourself of the experience of this bastard. (Yes, I still am mad at him.)

I thank you for the funny image of a naked idiot with a blue penis. It's just humorous. I wonder if he ever realizes that he's the butt of the joke.

I thank you for your honesty, but I don't think you are to blame for anything. You follow a good life and you understand what happened now.

Knowing you, I would think you were the victor in that game of Scrabble. You're amazing with words. =)

You are wonderful person Dana and I think you deserve more in this world. Someday we're going to find that perfect "Big Kiss" for you. And the man who can actually deserve the joy of your company and heart.

At 10:49 AM, CarpeDM said...
Dammit, you made me cry. And laugh. And then cry again. Boy, this blogging thing sure gives the emotions a workout.

Yeah, I think you're right. I did have to write this down. It helped me remember where the cycle started and why I'm so glad that the cycle has ended.

At 1:39 PM, Matt said...
Dana-Thank you for sharing this story with the world. I know that it had to be hard to share this, but I also agree with Beth, I think that it healthy for you to cleanse yourself of this. I am also very, VERY happy to see you put an end to the unhealthy cycle.

I will add a few comments myself about Dean (forgive my tongue, it has a mind of it's own) Bastard! Bastard! As! Ass! Shithead, fucking fuck fucker! I f I ever see that son of a bitch on the street and you are in the car with me, you had better believe that you will think I ran over a speed bump, because he will bounce off of my car!

I also think it a funny image of a naked man, and a blue boner. That is hysterical.

Dana, I cannot wait for you to have that big kiss that you so deserve, the person that is going to get that and give that to you will be one of the luckiest people ever. Ever! They will be getting the wonderfulness of you, and you will be getting the wonderfulness of them, and if they are smart, they will never let you get away once they have found you.

Your Son (Ok, my name is really Matt-but I like the idea of beiNG YOUR SON)

At 1:56 PM, The Lioness said...
Oy what a fucking wanker! I think I need to take a small break before I sully your blog any further, that bloody motherf%!#$"%&$!#!

At 2:06 PM, CarpeDM said...
My. The emotions about this post. Amazing.

Well, I did try searching for him last night but no pops. At least in Minnesota. God, if only I could borrow a 21-22 year old and show up on his doorstep with "his kid."

That's so wrong. But wouldn't it be funny?

At 3:40 PM, The Lioness said...
This post has been removed by the author.

At 3:40 PM, The Lioness said...
I think you're lovely. And brave. And hilariously funny. And so worthy of a real, sane relationship instead of the crap you persisted on having for years. I haven't been reading you for a very long time but the person you describe in the past and the one you obviously are today - well, the water is wide. I read your posts today and I see someone who fully embraced all her shit and, not being able to change it into gold, is using it to create a fine, fine garden. From Dana to DM, Queen of the Universe you got a problem with that. (I was worried I might be getting too corny but then remembered you like NoraRoberts)(Stop hitting me!)

As for the post, dramatic as it is, it's one of the funniest things I've ever read and - oh, and it was named after me! Sort of. In a penile kind of way. I feel magnificent. I feel kind of proud.

Bright note: MF did wear a condom; the odds of it are slim indeed

Please do the son thing, please, please, please! You don't even need a 21-year-old, just get a really big cardboard Smurf.

At 1:49 AM, brooksba said...
Wow! I just have to say, to the Lioness, the image of a large cardboard Smurf made me laugh until I cried.

I'm just picturing DM carrying a large blue, one dimensional body wearing nothing from the waist up. Priceless. Just priceless.

At 2:26 PM, Firebear said...
I have know very few people who are brave enough to share so private a story. Thank you for sharing it with us.

At 7:42 PM, BC said...
Ay, though ye may lose thine virginity in a laundry room, do not weep. Ay, though a mischevious wretch hast coveted thine body, tis not his. For ye are strong yet merciful, bold yet honest. I could not help but laugh at your retelling. Thank you for allowing me too. It's a harsh experience but a good story and the blue thing has some sense to it. Lionesse wrote it for you? I couldn't help but think of James Dean because of the name although this guy sounds like he has all the techniques of a common farm bucket. Anyways, loved it. Keep being yourself.

Song Title Dialouge - I and You

Okay, there is probably a reason why Beth and I are still single.* This is what we did for fun on Sunday, flip through the karaoke book and come up with different song titles to use as dialouge. It's really my fault, I was looking at page 24 of the older selections and thought "Hmm, this looks like it could be poetry. " I pointed it out to Beth and she said "Hmm, this looks like a conversation." So here goes. If this post goes over well, expect more. *That and the fact that the only men to show interest in us are usually drunk.

Male persona is #1, female persona is #2 or actually, since this is a gay friendly blog, first persona is #1, second persona is #2 and you can assign any gender to it that you want. Can't you just imagine this conversation taking place at a bar? There are certain pairings that I found either amusing or poignant or slightly bizarre. I will highlight them and leave a remark about those.

1: I think I love you.
2: You ain't seen nothing yet.

1: I think I love you too much.
2: You are my sunshine.

1: I think I'll just stay here and drink.
2: You are so beautiful.

1: I told you so.
2: You are the sunshine of my life.

1: I touch myself.
2: You beat me to the punch.

This one amused both Beth and I. Either #2 is saying "Hey, I was thinking about the same thing" or "Hey, I was thinking about touching you." They both work.

1: I walk the line.
2: You belong to me.

1: I wanna dance with somebody.
2: You can do magic.

1: I wanna dance with you.
2: You can't hurry love.

#2 - Hey, don't rush me, dude. I'll dance when I'm ready to dance.

1: I want to be your man.
2: You don't have to be a star, baby.

1: I want to know what love is.
2: You don't own me.

1: I want you back.
2: You give good love.

1: I want you, I need you, I love you.
2: You give love a bad name.

1: I want you to want me.
2: You got it.

1: I want your sex.
2: You got it all.

1: I was country when country wasn't cool.
2: You keep me hanging on.

1: I went to your wedding.
2: You light up my life.

1: I will always love you.
2: You made me love you.

1: I will survive.
2: You make loving fun.

1: I wish it would rain.
2: You make me feel brand new.

It makes me think of flowers somehow.

1: I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
2: You make me feel like dancing.

1: I write the songs.
2: You needed me.
This so would have worked better if You make me feel like dancing fell here but hey, I must remain true to my art and can't start mixing things up.

1: I'd do anything for love.
2: You ought to be with me.
Yeah, you ought to be with me if you'd do anything for love. I'm a romantic as well (and yes, I know it's the Meatloaf song and it's somewhat sardonic, I still like the song and this section).

1: I'd like to teach the world to sing.
2: You sexy thing.
It rhymes!

1: I'd love you to want me.
2: You should be dancing.

1: I'd really love to see you tonight.
2: You were on my mind.

What set this off was I saw the following song titles in order and I thought it was poetic.

I think I love you.
I think I love you too much.
I think I'll just stay here and drink.
I told you so.
I touch myself.
I wanna dance with somebody.
I wanna dance with you.

Isn't that beautiful?

If public response is good, there will be another post, this one will be answers to songs that start with when. Let me know what you think.

Previous Comments:
At 2:29 PM, DeAnn said...
OK, that is NOT a reason that you're single. That is the reason that people should want to be around you. Too funny.I think you're both single because you're just too picky! (That's the excuse I've always used when I'm single.)
At 4:54 PM, brooksba said...
Dana,Thank you. This was fun at karaoke and way fun to read here!This is about all my mind can handle right now. I think one of my favorites from the dialouge was:1: I want you, I need you, I love you.2: You give love a bad name.No reason why. I just found it amusing. I can't wait for the when post. If you want the songs I wrote down, let me know. They might help.
At 1:47 PM, Matt said...
If you ever wonder why I love to be around you, and why I love you like I do Dana, this is reason enough right here. That was so much fun to read. I am thinking about something though, this might be an intresting test to do to some people, Music Word Association. You give them a song title, and they have to respond with the first song title that pops into their mind. For instance, everytime I hear the title "I Touch Myself" I immediatley think of "Gonna Make You Sweat". I will talk to you later!Matt

Monday, September 20, 2004

I am protesting

I looked up Midnight at the Oasis. I slaved away at coming up with the appropriate vant. Blood and sweat and tears as I worked into the late hours. And no one comments. No one. Not even random strangers to tell me what a freak I am.

Sigh. All my hard work in vain.

At 2:51 PM, brooksba said...
Dana,Don't protest. =( At least not over this. I posted two comments that day. I found five posts for you at the same time. I will work diligently now on my book report of Midnight at the Oasis. I'm sorry I didn't comment. I loved your vant on Midnight at the Oasis.A very sad Beth who is waiting for your post on song titles.
At 3:50 PM, Firebear said...
At 4:29 PM, The Lioness said...
Er... I don't know the song or the singer but it sounds a bit frightening. I thought Midnight at the Oasis was about the grandkid. Sorry. Am immersed in trying to change sidebar code. I'm winning.
At 4:51 AM, DeAnn said...
In my defense, I had a busy, non-blog-reading weekend and got behind. And, since you have written so much of late, I wasn't commenting on any of it.Do we really have to tell you that you are a freak? Come on! You analyzed a song to show us how on crack it is.I love that! "Freak," in my world, is a compliment.

Sunday, September 19, 2004

A loaf of bread, a jug of Diet Coke (with a lime slice) and thou

I forgot to mention that Bobby (hot bartender Bobby, mentioned previously before here and here) and I had an ever so romantic conversation last Sunday. I am looking forward to tonight and seeing him again so that we may exchange fleeting glances, followed by whispered sweet nothings and then, consumating our love, quite possibly in the rain (stupid ex-boyfriends who refuse you when you say "Oh, it's a very warm rain, let's go outside and finish this." I was offering semi-public sex! Isn't that supposed to be a turn-on for guys? I cannot die until I have lived this fantasy (No, that is not an offer for volunteers)).

Anyway, for your reading pleasure, here is the conversation:

B (not Beth this time. Bobby): The usual?
DM: Yes. (Heart bursting with love) We missed you last Sunday.
B (still Bobby): I was out of town.
DM: Oh.
B: Were we busy?
DM: Yes.
B: I figured we would be.
DM (watching him put the finishing touches on my Diet Coke): Please marry me.

Okay. I didn't ask him to marry me. I told Beth about the conversation, including the part in my head. She said "I bet I could freak him out if I asked him why he hadn't answered your telepathic proposal yet." Or something like that.

Anyway, hopefully he will be at The Chalet tonight where I may gaze at his masterful hands as he makes my drink of choice. Sigh. Ah, Bobby, if you only knew how we were destined for each other. You pour Diet Coke, I drink Diet Coke. It's a match bottled in Heaven.

At 5:00 PM, angelia said...
Ahh, the sweet, sweet wonders of life. You and Bobby...he pours diet coke, you drink diet delivery boy and me, I make pizza's, he delivers pizzas. We could have a double wedding! LOL
At 10:05 AM, CarpeDM said...
Yes, that would be ever so romantic.The fun thing about this is I'm not secretly in love with him, I think he's a great guy and the whole providing me with a beverage is always important, but, for some reason, when I talk to him, I turn into this twittering school girl. He probably thinks I'm a total freak. Which, of course, I am.
At 3:39 PM, Firebear said...
At 12:01 PM, CarpeDM said...
Oh, Firebear, you're the perfect man. If only you weren't in Michigan with the perfect woman

Saturday, September 18, 2004

Another journey on the What Was I Thinking train

My romantic life has never been what one would call stellar. When I was in my twenties and let alcohol be my guide, I had a tendency to end up in bed with men that I normally would not even have a conversation with if I had been sober.

In the summer before I moved to Madison (1989? 1990?), I was working two jobs, one at Major's and also at an Italian Restaurant (still around so we'll call it the Grape Vine). One night, after my shift ended at the Grape Vine, one of my coworkers talked me into going to Denny's with him. He mentioned that another employee, a line cook named Mitch, would be joining us. For some reason, Mitch and I hit it off.

At this point of my life, I am still in what I affectionately refer to as "The Needy Years" where I judged myself on my worthiness on whether a guy like me. And, as a reward for liking me, I would sleep with them. Because, as I said, I was needy. And extremely lonely.

So, as I said, Mitch and I hit it off. I'm not sure why. Maybe because he usually had a pretty good supply of pot on hand, maybe because he found me attractive, maybe because I was desperate. Probably all three.

Mitch didn't have a car. If we were going to go out, I would take a bus to the Maplewood Mall. He would meet me there. We walked everwhere. I remember telling my former friend Jake this as though it was a good thing. Which it probably was because I was getting a ton of exercise but still, I am not a walker.

So, let's list some of the charming things about Mitch.

  1. He had once been in the army. So he would walk around wearing camoflauge outfits.
  2. His idea of a good time was to pretend he was mentally and physically handicapped. I would be so embarrassed being with him when he would do this.
  3. He asked me why I cried at movies. I told him I liked to cry. It was a catharsis for me. He didn't know what I meant and asked me to explain. I told him it meant an emotional release, one that usually makes the person feel better. He wanted to know why I couldn't just say that in the first place. Which, in itself is not so bad. I didn't mind that he didn't know what the word meant. What I didn't like was that he didn't understand my fascination with words. Oh, let's face it. He was stupid. He didn't get me at all.
  4. He lived with his step-mother. And when she got evicted, he lived in the shed behind her house. I actually spent the night there with him. And almost died because it was so cold.
  5. Always broke. Probably because of the drugs. So I ended up paying for everything.
  6. Insane. Psychotic freak obsessed with two things - the army and me.

About two-three weeks into our relationship, he asked me to marry him. I said yes. I know. But I told you this was a ride on the WWIT? train at the very beginning of this post. Then, when we went to look at engagement rings, we started arguing over whether I should get a diamond ring. I don't like diamonds. I think they're boring. I wanted the black onyx heart. Which was probably an omen. We couldn't agree so I never got the ring. That's when I got the dog tags. Yep. Who says romance is dead?

Although many people hate Jake for a lot of the stuff that he did to me, one of the best things he said to me was "You should marry him now. Why let him get away?" when I said that Mitch and I were arguing over a wedding date. I started thinking really hard about what life with Mitch would be like. Fortunately, I came to my senses. I stopped answering the phone when he called and no longer worked at the Grape Vine. He stopped calling after about a week.

Our entire relationship lasted one month.

I was saying to Beth last night that if I knew then what I know now, I probably would still be a virgin. And that reminded me to blog about the time I thought penises became blue when they were erect. But that is a story for another day.

At 9:59 PM, brooksba said...
Dana,You are a wonderful person and you deserve more in life than Mitch could give. I'm sure he wasn't an all bad guy, but you deserve the best guy ever. I'm glad to see you as you are today, a strong individual with hopes, dreams, and the guts to do what you want to do for yourself.
At 12:33 AM, Matt said...
I love you Dana. You are an awesome person, and one of the best friends a person could ever have. With that said, I am wondering, would you have had to wear a camoflauge wedding dress? Because if you did, how would we see you?Matt
At 1:59 AM, angelia said...
since you had to pay for everything...would you have had to pay for your ring too? Just wondering....
At 6:56 AM, The Lioness said...
This is what I think: we are awarded a few freaks during our lifetime. Good thing you got rid of one already. Saves space for the normal ones. See? Actually I think we atttract people according to the messages we send life. Happy to see yours have changed. Many women would have gone on and married the man, anything but being alone. So well done! Really. Not in any patronising way, just really well done.Now please pay attention: write blue stiffy story THIS MINUTE!!! Or I'll forever withold a really easy liver receipe - and hell if I can cook it so can you, you cannot possibly be a worse cook than I am. Teaser.
At 9:13 AM, CarpeDM said...
Answers:Beth, you rock and always make your day.Matt, I'm betting camoflauge would be extremely slimming but I don't know what color we would have chosen. We really weren't together long enough to make any wedding decisions.Angi, I don't remember. But probably. Which might be why I was so intrigued by the black onyx heart, it was only $149 (I can't believe I remember that).The Lioness, I'm working on it. Believe me when I say there will be laughter and tears.
At 11:52 AM, The Lioness said...
I've been meaning to elaborate ever since I commented but haven't yet because well you read my post so here it finally comes: it sounds condescending to write "glad to see yours changed", it's not meant like that, it's meant like "we're all daft at some point and hell could I tell you stories about sending off wrong messages and my stories aren't even THAT old". So thanks for not answering "Who do you think you are, b***!" (I'm behaving! ;D)
At 1:07 PM, CarpeDM said...
Actually, I am quite proud of the changes I have made in my life so I was thinking "Oh, how nice of her to notice and acknowledge me."I think you're cool.

Yet another reason to hate Rainbow

Those of you who have read my blog from the beginning may remember the two vants I had about Rainbow Foods, a grocery store in the Twin Cities area. Here, for your reading pleasure, is the experience I had when I ran in one day to get a pasta salad.

My friend Adam decided to have a dinner party to officially introduce us to his new boyfriend (it's been almost a year since they met! Congratulations to Adam and Rich). He invited Keem, Beth, Scott and Matt and me. I offered to bring something and he asked me to pick up a pasta salad. Keem stopped at Rainbow on our way. I ran inside to pick up the salad. Easy enough, right? Well, you obviously haven't spent enough time in my world to know that it's not easy.

I stand in line at the deli. There were several people behind the counter but I was ignored. Several customers are waited on and leave.

I stand there.

No one acknoweldges me. Which is, as we discovered in an earlier post, pretty much what I think Hell will be like for me.

The girl behind the counter picks up a spray bottle and starts cleaning. She looks straight at me. Or through me because apparently I am now invisible.

A guy behind the fried food counter sees me. "Have you been helped?" "No," I reply. Does he come up to help me? No, he does not. He says something to the sulky girl who is ignoring me. She looks up and I now register on her radar. I'll have to talk to my doctor about that pesky fading in and out I seem to be doing.

"Did you want to order something?"

I am tempted to reply "No. I come to delis and stand around for fun." Instead I smile politely and say yes.

She ever so graciously packs my order for me. Yes, that is sarcasm. What she actually does is slam a whole bunch of things together and almost snarls at me in disgust for my very existence is obviously destroying her soul.

I get into the car. Keem wonders what took me so long. I blame Martin Lawrence for what comes out of my mouth. When the show "Martin" was on, there was a annoying character named Shenaynay. This woman at the deli reminded me of her.

"Well, I had to wait for Shenaynay to realise I existed."


"Okay. Maybe her name was Shaniqua. I don't know or care. She was a bitch."

I am really, really sorry for calling her Shenaynay. I am not sorry for calling her a bitch.

At 12:37 AM, Matt said...
YES!!! I love that story! That is just awesome! I have been waiting to read this! I don't know if you heard or not, but Rainbow has decided to turn their billboards into a weekly animated show for kids. Isn't that great?Matt
At 6:03 AM, CarpeDM said...
No. No, no, no. That is just wrong. Wrong! Oh, my God, how could they do this to me? Why? What are they going to do?You better be making this up to tweak me out. I'm serious. Or there is going to be smashed fruit and vegetable hell to pay with the powers that be at Rainbow.

Friday, September 17, 2004

Midnight at the Oasis - the vant

A note: I was going to try and do a line for line analysis of this song. Unfortunately, Blogger doesn't seem to like spaces. So I apologize that I am unable to do this. I will, in italics, add my personal comments at the predetermined breaks I have made ( doesn't show this broken up into stanzas (is that the right word? I can never remember).

Now. Please keep in mind that this is my own personal opinion. I do not really think that Maria Muldaur is on Crack for recording this song. But there are things about this song that scare me. Really scare me.

Maria Muldaur Midnight At The Oasis or (IMHO) Woman on Crack. Crack Song.

Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed
Shadows paintin' our faces
Traces of romance in our heads
Heaven's holdin' a half-moon
Shinin' just for us
Let's slip off to a sand dune, real soon
And kick up a little dust

It's midnight at the oasis and your camel is tired. What I'm wondering, is this a camel? Or is this actually your wife and I don't like her so I'm calling her a camel. Or is the camel your chaperone? Because, really, if it's an actual camel, then what does it care if we go running around in the shadows? It's probably just sitting there watching two adults play peek-a-boo as they figure out whether or not they're going to have sex. Because no matter how you pretty up the words, with the traces of romance and the half-moon that's just for us, the minute we start talking about kicking up some dust, you know that's what we want. We want sex. Unless we're talking about dancing. But I doubt it.

Come on, Cactus is our friend
He'll point out the way
Come on, till the evenin' ends
Till the evenin' ends
You don't have to answer
There's no need to speak
I'll be your belly dancer, prancer
And you can be my sheik

Okay, now that's just weird. Cactus is our friend. He's point out the way? I keep picturing this cactus with sunglasses and a sign that says "This way to the Oasis." Which is really kind of frightening, especially if you know me and how I feel about fruits and vegetables and now plants wearing faces. And then there's the whole you don't have to answer or speak so I'm figuring this guy is really pretty but stupid. So you don't want him to talk. And again, we're back to sex. Or dancing. And are you being a belly dancer and prancer or are you calling your sheik your prancer?

------ guitar solo ------

I have nothing against guitar solos. I enjoy them. Yay to the guitar solo.

I know your Daddy's a sultan
A nomad known to all
With fifty girls to attend him, they all send him
Jump at his beck and call

So your Dad is pretty famous. Gosh, I am all a-twitter with my brush with celebrity. And wow, what an entourage he has! Side note - I remember seeing this movie about Hercules once. And there was this Queen and she had a harem of these extremely buff men and whenever she would get tired of them, she would push them into a pool of plaster (or wax, can't remember) and had all of these statues. And then Hercules resisted her charms and she threw herself into the plaster (or wax) because of the unrequited love. Anyway, my point is, I wouldn't mind having her harem myself, except for the whole plaster part. That's kind of gross.

But you won't need no harem, honey
When I'm by your side
And you won't need no camel, no no
When I take you for a ride

Okay, so apparently, you are so full of yourself that you can exceed the charms of 50 women. 50 women! C'mon. Of course, if your sheik is your true love, well, then anything's possible. And here we go with the camel thing again. Is it a camel? Or is it his wife. I must know! And then, yes, here we go. We're thinking about sex again. How exciting.

Come on, Cactus is our friend
He'll point out the way
Come on, till the evenin' ends
Till the evenin' ends

Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed
Got shadows paintin' our faces
And traces of romance in our heads

Anyway, this is what goes through my head when I hear songs like this. One of the best versions of this song I've heard was in Waiting For Guffman. It is a great movie and anyone who appreciates the absurd will love this mockumentary. I hope you enjoyed the vant. I am trying to come up with movies that this song has been in and so far I know about Waiting For Guffman and American Pie. If anyone else knows about one I've missed, let me know.

Previous Comments:

At 3:10 PM, brooksba said...
First off, maybe I missed this. Why is Woman on Crack. Crack Song: IMHO? Are you saying the woman is a Ho? Maybe. I was trying to figure this out. Please explain to me. Thank you.

Now, for my book report on your post:

I read the post Midnight at the Oasis - The Vant. DM wrote the post. I would recommend the post to anyone looking for an enjoyable time.

The post works on a play by play of the popular (why is it popular???) song by Maria Muldaur. It's a shame that her last name is so close to wonderful character on the X-Files played by David Duchovny. Ah, David Duchovny... Oops, sorry, I should stick to the book report.

DM takes the first verse of the song which talks about putting the person's camel to bed because two adults want to kick up a little dust. DM explains how the lyrics sound like people wanting to have sex but they're afraid the camel (maybe wife of one of the people) will be watching or upset. Maybe they're putting the camel to bed because they feel icky having it watch. I think this would be like the people who make the dogs/cats sit outside the room while the bed springs creak.

The next verse discusses the cactus, the friend of the people wanting to get it on. The cactus seems to be pointing the way to the Oasis. DM uses this verse to go on a lovely vant about how fruits, vegetables, and plants should not be personified. It reminds me of her vants on Rainbow Foods and the scary billboards. Classic! It will be adored for ages!

The segment on the guitar solo is to the point and a perfect statement. Guitar solos are enjoyable.

When DM analyzes the section about the person's father being a sultan, she discusses a movie she once saw about a queen and her harem. DM discusses the possibilities of having a harem but not putting the men into plaster. This is something I also think would be gross. And what would you do with all those statues?

The next section of the song DM talks about is the ego of the woman singing the song. She appears to have the idea she is a good enough romp in the sack to have the man forget he has 50 women at his beck and call. I wonder how much she charges. DM also tells us about the camel again.

The final discussion from DM is about which movies DM has heard this song in. I agree that Waiting for Guffman had the best rendition of Midnight at the Oasis. I need to watch that movie again.

All in all, I enjoyed DM's post about Midnight at the Oasis - The Vant. I hope you enjoyed my book report.

DM - at least I posted a comment right? I hope you enjoyed.

At 11:40 AM, CarpeDM said...
Oh, this is great! I can't believe you actually did it. What a great book report.

At 1:55 AM, brooksba said...
You thought I wouldn't actually do it? Come on, it's like an assignment. I thought you understood my need for horrible tourture and textbooks.


Love you. I'm glad you enjoyed the book report.

(In case you check the comments, I didn't get a chance to find out when your break is on Thursday. I didn't get much done at all. Please email me it. I'll be checking email when I get up. I'm expecting an important one but hoping for a better one from you.)

Just an update of random stuff

Okay, it's Friday night and I'm hanging out at the phone bank again. Going to IHOP with Beth later. Always fun.

I am working on a post for Midnight at the Oasis because of the requests. Believe me when I say it will be fun and sarcastic and a little bit scary all at once.

Beth wanted me to blog about the song I was singing when we were outside but I don't really remember it (notebooks were inside). It was something like this:

My feet are happy feet.
They like to sing and dance.
A tap of the foot from there to here
Means that I love you dear.
A kick and a shuffle
means that you're an asshole.

I stop with my happy feet song. Beth and I start laughing. I am, apparently, insane.

NABABNA was holding a dunk tank for a charity today. Management volunteered to be dunked and the Cream Puff Man was in the tank. I looked over and said to Adam and Beth "I'll donate 50 dollars if I can just hold his head under water for five minutes." Two minutes later, one of the bankers is throwing balls at the dunk tank thingy that releases the dunkee and keeps missing. She goes to pick up the balls and then, when he's not expecting it, hits the dunk tank thingy and he goes Splash! Completely made my day.

Extremely interesting and fun stuff on Dooce and Matt's blog today. I read these on my lunch and could not help but laugh, that insane laugh that makes people back away from you. Tears spurting from my eyes laughter.

I was trapped outside with Beth and Troy while they were talking about statistics. It was like watching Spock mindmeld with Spock. I was scared. At one point, I covered my ears and started singing "lalalala." Which might be where the happy feet song came from. Not sure.

Life is good in the green ducky universe. Hope everything's good in your universe. Oh, and before I forget, we're going to karaoke on Sunday again and you're always, always invited. I don't think there will be a red shirt involved though. Sorry.

Previous Comments:

At 9:55 PM, brooksba said...
Ah Dana,You are a freak. But I like freaks. Thank you for the fun of your feet song and dance at work. That made my nights. You will understand stats someday. I'll make you. And now I have an ally in Troy. Imagine evil laughter.Beth


What the heck happened? My blogrolling list has vanished. I need help. The script is there but nothing is happening. I hate this. My life is meaningless without access to other blogs. Meaningless!

Jay, if you read this, please help me. What am I doing wrong? I bow to your wisdom.

Update - After much, much cursing, I reloaded the template and put in all my links once again. It was a rough fight but I was the victor. It was frustrating as hell but I have triumphed. Somewhere, the theme from Rocky is playing.

Previous Comments:
At 4:44 PM, The Lioness said...
It's back. I can see it. I couldn't when I first read your post. Then I took another look and it was there. No blogrolling list would dare defy you, woman! You ARE the Queen of the Universe.

At 9:01 PM, The Lioness said...
I'm not totally barmy, your update was not there when I first wrote that!

At 10:59 PM, CarpeDM said...
No, it wasn't. I read your comment and then added the update.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Statistics, IHOP, Beth and I, 9/10/04

Those of you who know me (and those of you who don't should seriously realize that I am the Queen of the Universe and the sooner you realize that and start adoring me, the better) know that math and I do not get along. At all. In fact, math is that evil bitch that stole my boyfriend away in junior high, the one with the big boobs and the overbite, and I don't like her one bit (I think I may have surpassed myself in odd analogies but hey, the day is young). So, when Beth told me she was going to review her statistics book in preparation for her new class, I believe I said "Cool. I can read."

But no, that's not the way it works. Beth, who adores math, who does algebra for fun (yes, I know, she's a sick, sick woman), hates statistics. And she subscribes to the theory that if you are struggling with a subject, you should teach it to someone else. Possibly someone who hates all math and didn't memorize 8+5=13 until her first year of college is not the best person to inflict horrid, horrid statistics on but I don't think the other patrons of IHOP would have appreciated it if Beth started teaching it to them.

First we use the example about the tissue company. There is this sentence "Next time you pick up a box of tissues, look for the 800 number for complaints." My response was "Complaints? What the hell do you complain about tissues? They're not fluffy enough? " Beth calmly continues to read "Common complaints are about packaging - misleading or there is damage or the product is defective."

Meanwhile, our food comes. Here is more proof that Beth is extremely logical and possibly Spock's incarnation (if a fictional character can be reincarnated...actually, you know, this is my universe and I say that it can happen! Yes!) - "I always start with the hashbrowns. I have to eat in a specific order." What the hell is that? There's the fun of getting your eggs and hashbrowns mixed up together that she's missing out on.

Then the young ones decided to visit. These are not my young ones. No, thank the good Lord, I am child free. These are small children (well, small adults, maybe) who have decided to join the good people of IHOP and have loud conversations to annoy me. Which, of course, makes it easier for me to blog about them. And someday, they will realize that the entire internet is laughing at them. And then they will be sad and beg for my forgiveness and I will say "NO! You have annoyed me and must perish." Except I don't think I'd go through with the perishing part. I'm not good with the whole blood and destruction thing. I am a kind and peaceful ruler. Okay, anyway, moving along to the group of teenagers sitting behind us.

This is what I was thinking as a Cher song came on and one of the boys started nattering on about how he didn't like Cher and she was so stupid and blah, blah, blah. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! No one cares about how you feel about Cher! No one!" Listening to you blabber is not going to change whether I like Cher or not. I happen to think she's very talented, both as a singer and an actress. So shut up. Go listen to some angsty garage band and leave Cher alone.

Then one of the girls sitting behind us starts to giggle. I hate that. Well, let me rephrase that, there's nothing wrong with a giggle. I was young once. I'm sure I giggled on occasion. What I do hate is when the giggler cannot formulate a complete sentence because of the giggling and then the giggle becomes their actual words. Talk and then laugh or laugh and then talk, okay? People will stop thinking you're stupid if you stop doing them both at once.

Gigi (Giggling Girl): You're so (giggle), you're so (giggle), you're so (giggle).

You're so what? What? If you can't say two words without cracking up, there is a problem. Is there a cat licking a window (which hopefully Matt will write this story soon)? No. Then calm down and talk like a normal person.

More statistics:

B: What is the square root of 5 squared?
DM: Well, 5 squared is 25 (Beth nods. I only know this because we had to go over what a square root is because apparently you have to know how to do this if you want your world to function. Did I mention I hate math)? So then the square root is 5 (Pause while this sinks in). What?
B: Yes. It's a long way to say the number 5.
DM: It's like physics (I am frustrated and cranky at this point)!
B: It's nothing like physics (she is laughing at my frustration and crankiness).
DM: If we had ham, we could have ham and eggs, if we have eggs (Long story short, the physics teacher at my high school wrote this in the yearbook. I have no clue what it means). It's stupid and it makes no sense!
Beth laughs. At me. Again. I am a source of amusement for math lovers. Sigh.


B: Don't turn around (there is a horrified look on her face).
DM: Would I be scared?
B: Yes. Let's just say wearing a toilet sanitary seat cover is not something you should do in public. Look outside.

I turn. There is one of the young ones walking down the sidewalk with a seat cover around his neck.

DM: Well, it gives new meaning to the word sh*thead (note to The Lioness - I actually do swear. But if you do the asterisk thing you avoid those people who think it's funny to search the internet for swear words).

Beth wants to go back to statistics. Here's a little quiz on how well you know your Queen of the Universe. Multiple Choice. Do I

A: Smile and nod politely while weaving fantasies in my mind including the guy with the toilet seat cover around his neck?
B: Tap into my inner nerd and wow her with the math knowledge I've been keeping from her because I'm so much more knowledgeable about math than she is and it would crush her?
C: Start whining about how much I hate math and why, why, is she making me do this and this is what hell will be like for me?

Yeah, if you thought it was anything other than C, I'm a little frightened by what you think of me. No, I whined. I try to think of it as complaining creatively but it was whining.

Frog came up with a meme about what your room in hell would be like. This was the first time I'd ever been able to figure out what mine was. So, thank you, Frog.

My room in hell will be a class room with my annoying teacher from Lakewood (college, tested poorly in math (hah, big surprise) and had to take this stupid class on working with whole numbers, decimals and fractions) who, every time she wrote a problem on the board would sit there and say "Is that okay? Is that okay?" and I wanted to scream "You're the damn teacher, you should know!" and I'll be forced to do math and no one will acknowledge me. Hell will be statistics and no spotlight on me. Which would hopefully mean that in Heaven I'll get lots of attention and get to read all I want.

And our last conversation of the night.

B: I don't even think stat teachers like stats.
DM: Oh, you know they get into it. They're nerd crunching nerds.
B: Does that mean they eat the candy?
DM: Wait. Talk slow. Flipping (to a blank page in the blog notebook)

Gotta love Beth. She's whole bunches of entertainment. And is willing to drive me places.

Previous Comments:
At 9:52 PM, The Lioness said...
LOL! I love this! :DDD (And I got directly mentioned too, bloody hell! - oh speaking of which, why is it a bother if they find us? I mean, what do they do with their cursing knowledge?)

At 1:17 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...
I always thought of statistics as the English Major's Math... I loved the word problems, coming to understand the needs inherent in the problem and finding the equation that solved it. And there were usually two or three possible answers, none of this boring black-and-white yes-or-no nonphilosophical crap.Of course, I liked algebra, too, once it was presented to me as puzzles intead of as math. The practical applications of mathematics are so mind-numbingly dull to us creative types (all the functions of which can be done on a computer, so why bother?) that you have to divorce it from its practicality and make it frivolous. Quadratic equations are more fun than acrostics.

My room in hell would be filled with children and other stupid people talking and talking about things they didn't really understand, and I couldn't point out their errors of logic to them, or even say anything at all unless it was to agree with them. And they would all have Texas accents.

At 4:56 PM, CarpeDM said...
You know, that's a great question. I am not sure what they would do with the swearing knowledge. And it's not like I couldn't delete their comments in the first place. I would say it's because my mother raised me to be a lady (well, she tried) but you know that's not true. Maybe I'm just fond of asterisks? I don't know.