I've spent the last week ill with a lung infection and pleurisy. It started out with what I thought were allergies, but since people at work had been passing around an upper respiratory infection until it grew in strength, it landed at my desk with an almighty thud.
My doctor initially thought I might have whooping cough, of all things. I didn't think people got whooping cough anymore. I figured it had gone the way of "consumption" and "grippe", but I guess not. I had blood work done at the lab and got prescriptions for 2 antibiotics (twice in 6 months!), a steroid to take down the inflammation in my lungs and Vicodin cough syrup, which is also something I didn't know existed. I'm now a huge fan of Vicodin cough syrup. I'm not a fan of steroids, which made me gain 12 lbs. in one week (!), so it's a good thing I'm not a professional athlete. If you knew me personally, you'd know that this is not something to worry about.
I was out of work (yay!) for most of last week. I tried to go back on Wednesday, but everybody told me I looked like shit (don't I usually?) and sent me packing as soon as I got there. I worked a full day on Thursday, even though everyone was telling me to go home, because I had already arranged to be off on Friday. I had a full house of people coming for Christmas on Saturday and I needed time to cook and clean.
I felt OK but tired on Friday and got everything done that I needed to do. Saturday came and everyone showed up and we had a great time visiting and watching football. I had to take a nap midway through the evening and I looked and felt visibly worse when I came back out.
Sunday morning, I woke at 4:30am with a full-blown classic migraine, complete with nausea and sensitivity to light. I don't get these migraines very often. I usually get the kind I can control with my meds, but the classic kind, you just have to sleep them off. I spent all day Sunday in bed, miserable and with a wet rag round my head, and I didn't get to say goodbye to anyone.
This morning, Christmas Eve, I had to work for half a day, and of course, I felt fine. Figures........
Happy Yule and a Great 2008!
Monday, December 24, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
A Work In Progress
"Bitch Slapped Into Sobriety"
Chapter One
I was known as the boy with 12 tubes of glue and no models. This caused considerable suspicion, until my mother read a story about lemon scent being put into tubes of glue to confound the waves of juvenile delinquency no doubt due to glue sniffing. She figured that, since I didn't care much for lemons, she didn't have to worry about me becoming one of those "damned ole' dog rapin' glue sniffers", as she put it in her charming east Texas way. She never noticed that I never seemed to have any airplane models, just a lot of half-empty tubes of glue lying around and a glazed look in my eyes. Maybe she thought my vacant expression was hereditary; she certainly accused my father of being "the biggest dumbass in Deaf Smith county" and I heard shrieks of "you're just like your father!" more than once.
But I never asked her how she came to that opinion. I just hung out in my room, stared at my Farrah Fawcett poster and sniffed more glue. As I got older, I started experimenting with spray paint, with disastrous consequences.
Before anyone asks: yes, this is fictional. I got sucked into that A&E show called "Intervention" tonight and I thought that some of those people needed to be "bitch slapped by sobriety" (tm 2007 Lisa Brooke). I've always been far too level headed to be either a drunk or a drug addict and I"ve never visited Deaf Smith county, either.
Happy Holidays!
Chapter One
I was known as the boy with 12 tubes of glue and no models. This caused considerable suspicion, until my mother read a story about lemon scent being put into tubes of glue to confound the waves of juvenile delinquency no doubt due to glue sniffing. She figured that, since I didn't care much for lemons, she didn't have to worry about me becoming one of those "damned ole' dog rapin' glue sniffers", as she put it in her charming east Texas way. She never noticed that I never seemed to have any airplane models, just a lot of half-empty tubes of glue lying around and a glazed look in my eyes. Maybe she thought my vacant expression was hereditary; she certainly accused my father of being "the biggest dumbass in Deaf Smith county" and I heard shrieks of "you're just like your father!" more than once.
But I never asked her how she came to that opinion. I just hung out in my room, stared at my Farrah Fawcett poster and sniffed more glue. As I got older, I started experimenting with spray paint, with disastrous consequences.
Before anyone asks: yes, this is fictional. I got sucked into that A&E show called "Intervention" tonight and I thought that some of those people needed to be "bitch slapped by sobriety" (tm 2007 Lisa Brooke). I've always been far too level headed to be either a drunk or a drug addict and I"ve never visited Deaf Smith county, either.
Happy Holidays!
Sunday, December 02, 2007
The Trouble with Working
This past Thursday at work, I almost succeeded in getting myself fired. In a previous post, I told about these "How Not To Think Like A Victim" classes that the CEO is so enamored of. These sort of classes (and the accompanying books, DVDs and CDs) are cottage industries directed at CEOs. I saw hundreds of similar ones when I worked at Half Price Books. Anybody can think up an "inspirational" line of crap and market it to CEOs, who are only too willing to soak up this junk, thinking that their employees' lives will be changed and they will be forever grateful that their CEO/leader/guru brought it to their attention in the first place.
But I'm not like that.
See, I have work to do, lots of work actually. So much work in fact, that I could easily come in early, work through lunch, stay late and come in on Saturdays and barely keep up. So I have been doing most of the above; I can't stay late because we only have one vehicle at the moment.
So, on Thursday, I asked the CEO if I could speak with him privately. I'm scheduled to take these classes on 4 different days this month and they last all day long. Could I be excused from the classes, seeing as we are overwhelmed with work at the moment and I really should be WORKING and not going to CLASSES that have nothing whatsoever to do with my job?
"Absolutely not! Those classes are mandatory for every employee and WHY ARE YOU EVEN ASKING?!" His face darkened and he scowled at me.
Well, because the classes are USELESS and I'm NOT INTERESTED. See, I'd like to come here and do my WORK. See all those files over there? That's my WORK.
"Well, you'd better be in all 4 days of those classes. Those classes ARE your work!"
Well.......I could see where my bread was buttered, so I walked out the office we were in and left him there glaring at me. Then the real fun started.
Our morning meeting started and all the employees (myself included) gathered together to listen to the usual self-congratulatory bullshit I've come to expect from these losers. The CEO pipes up:
"We need help with shipping, since they're so behind. Who wants to help out?" Of course, the same 20 people raise their hands who do whenever the CEO asks anything, whether it's to help out with shipping or clean the toilets. The same 20 brown nosers....
"Lisa has volunteered to teach y'all how to ship files today at noon, so bring something to write with!"
Noon. That was 30 minutes from his announcement, which was the first I had heard about anything I'd supposedly volunteered for. In 30 minutes, I would teach 20 people who had no real interest in learning my job, how to do what it's taken me almost 4 years to learn.
"Oh yeah, Lisa will teach another class tomorrow, in case anybody can't make it today". I caught his triumphant glance in my direction. I hope he could read the very sincere "FUCK YOU, YOU ASSHOLE" in my eyes.....
Well, I taught his fucking classes and I did them very well, thank you. Those 20 people now know that shippers don't just sit around and shuffle papers. They saw exactly what the underwriters do wrong, what the closers and the funders miss and why the shippers are so backed up with work fixing all those things. I noticed that the closers, the underwriters and the funder who showed up for my first class weren't there for the second one. I'm sure they didn't lose sleep over it.
Oh yes, my supervisor asked me to come in Saturday to work. I said no. And every time she asks me this month to work on Saturday, I will say no. I did feel bad when I turned her down before because of the work load, and these new people messing with the files are only making the shippers' work harder, not easier. My shrink told me that she's a supervisor for a reason; it's her responsibility to get those files out, not mine. I was taking on more responsibility than was warranted for my position. It was getting me nowhere, so I'm not doing it anymore. I'll still come in early and work through lunch and I'll get out as many files as I possibly can during that time, but I'm not working on Saturdays to make up for work I could have done if I wasn't in the damn classes!
On a better note, I took the UT typing and spelling exam. I'm a better typist than I thought (42 wpm with 5 mistakes) but I'm embarrassed to say that I only scored a 98 on the spelling. Jeez, I'm an English major, I should have aced that one. I've applied for an admin job in the Office of Admissions and some other state jobs, so please, goddess, let them call soon......I've grown gray waiting for Whole Foods to call. Those hippies wouldn't know a good thing if it bit them on the ass....
But I'm not like that.
See, I have work to do, lots of work actually. So much work in fact, that I could easily come in early, work through lunch, stay late and come in on Saturdays and barely keep up. So I have been doing most of the above; I can't stay late because we only have one vehicle at the moment.
So, on Thursday, I asked the CEO if I could speak with him privately. I'm scheduled to take these classes on 4 different days this month and they last all day long. Could I be excused from the classes, seeing as we are overwhelmed with work at the moment and I really should be WORKING and not going to CLASSES that have nothing whatsoever to do with my job?
"Absolutely not! Those classes are mandatory for every employee and WHY ARE YOU EVEN ASKING?!" His face darkened and he scowled at me.
Well, because the classes are USELESS and I'm NOT INTERESTED. See, I'd like to come here and do my WORK. See all those files over there? That's my WORK.
"Well, you'd better be in all 4 days of those classes. Those classes ARE your work!"
Well.......I could see where my bread was buttered, so I walked out the office we were in and left him there glaring at me. Then the real fun started.
Our morning meeting started and all the employees (myself included) gathered together to listen to the usual self-congratulatory bullshit I've come to expect from these losers. The CEO pipes up:
"We need help with shipping, since they're so behind. Who wants to help out?" Of course, the same 20 people raise their hands who do whenever the CEO asks anything, whether it's to help out with shipping or clean the toilets. The same 20 brown nosers....
"Lisa has volunteered to teach y'all how to ship files today at noon, so bring something to write with!"
Noon. That was 30 minutes from his announcement, which was the first I had heard about anything I'd supposedly volunteered for. In 30 minutes, I would teach 20 people who had no real interest in learning my job, how to do what it's taken me almost 4 years to learn.
"Oh yeah, Lisa will teach another class tomorrow, in case anybody can't make it today". I caught his triumphant glance in my direction. I hope he could read the very sincere "FUCK YOU, YOU ASSHOLE" in my eyes.....
Well, I taught his fucking classes and I did them very well, thank you. Those 20 people now know that shippers don't just sit around and shuffle papers. They saw exactly what the underwriters do wrong, what the closers and the funders miss and why the shippers are so backed up with work fixing all those things. I noticed that the closers, the underwriters and the funder who showed up for my first class weren't there for the second one. I'm sure they didn't lose sleep over it.
Oh yes, my supervisor asked me to come in Saturday to work. I said no. And every time she asks me this month to work on Saturday, I will say no. I did feel bad when I turned her down before because of the work load, and these new people messing with the files are only making the shippers' work harder, not easier. My shrink told me that she's a supervisor for a reason; it's her responsibility to get those files out, not mine. I was taking on more responsibility than was warranted for my position. It was getting me nowhere, so I'm not doing it anymore. I'll still come in early and work through lunch and I'll get out as many files as I possibly can during that time, but I'm not working on Saturdays to make up for work I could have done if I wasn't in the damn classes!
On a better note, I took the UT typing and spelling exam. I'm a better typist than I thought (42 wpm with 5 mistakes) but I'm embarrassed to say that I only scored a 98 on the spelling. Jeez, I'm an English major, I should have aced that one. I've applied for an admin job in the Office of Admissions and some other state jobs, so please, goddess, let them call soon......I've grown gray waiting for Whole Foods to call. Those hippies wouldn't know a good thing if it bit them on the ass....
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Toikey Day 2007
My Thanksgiving this year went remarkably smoothly, except for the Greenville portion, and that was entirely my fault. On Thanksgiving Day, I always go to my aunt's and uncle's house in Rockwall, meeting up with my aunt and uncle, my other uncle, my cousins and my grandfather. My aunt's cooking is superb and it's great to visit with them until the tryptophan takes effect and everyone starts to nod off like junkies after a fix. My grandfather gave me a big bag of pecans, so I'll be making some pies for Yule.
On "Black Fridays", I avoid the stores like the plague (22 years of working in retail will cure you of wanting to shop on the busiest shopping day of the year) and I make the trek to my hometown of Greenville to see my aunts and my cousin, all of whom I love dearly. My elderly aunt is not doing very well and I wanted to visit with her, but her husband, who normally keeps to himself and lets us catch up and go to lunch with my aunt Carol and my cousin Tracy, would NOT STOP TALKING VERY LOUDLY and incessantly. When he wasn't shouting, he was singing or whistling. I had not slept well the night before and wasn't feeling all that great, so after about an hour of being interrogated with the same questions:
1. Where's your husband?
2. Why isn't he with you?
3. Where are you going?
4. Where are we going?
5. Do you want some money?
I was exhausted. I honestly don't know how my elderly aunt puts up with it. He seems on the verge of dementia. My aunt told me that his daughter had had to put a freeze on their bank account because he gave his Social Security number and bank account info out to some woman who called him regarding some "sweepstakes" he had won, even though he had been repeatedly warned not to do that. He also compulsively gives money away to anyone he comes in contact with. He kept throwing mints, pens and anything else that was near at me, exhorting me to "PUT THAT IN YOUR PURSE!"
I didn't get to visit with my aunts or my cousin nearly as long as I would have liked to, because I was so exhausted I was worried about having to drive back. My eyes didn't want to focus, which they do when I need to rest, and my head was starting to spin. I felt terrible, because my elderly aunt seemed so disappointed when I told her I had to go. I love visiting with them and I only got to see them for a couple of hours. I won't get to see them again until next year. My aunt Carol and my cousin Tracy have to deal with him and they have enough on their plates. I wish I had their energy and their patience. I was holding the door open when those virtues were being handed out, apparently.
The rest of Friday went fine. After resting, my husband and I and my sister-in-law went to World Market, which wasn't crowded, oddly enough. Then Adrian and I went out to dinner with an old band mate of his (and friend of mine) and her husband. We had a lovely dinner at the Hare Krishnas' restaurant and then back to my sister-in-law's place for sleeping like the dead.
This morning, Saturday, my other sister-in-law took us out for lunch at On The Border. It was not so great. That place has really gone down hill. It was pouring with rain, and did so all the way back to Austin.
When we got home, Dinsy was waiting for us with two empty food bowls and a cross look on her furry little face. She soon got over it and was purring away with a full belly and a warm spot on the chair. I'm looking forward to sleeping very late in the morning and psyching myself up for going back to work with the idiots. I shouldn't be so mean, I guess, they did give me a turkey. I'm going to cook it for Yule. I have to work on Christmas Eve, so we can't go up north again. Adrian's family are coming down here which will be great! We had such a good time last year. Now that's something to look forward to....
I'll take a clue from my friend Shelly and list the things I'm thankful for:
1. My husband Adrian - He's my best friend, my soulmate, my StudBoy(tm). I've learned far more from him than he'll ever know. He makes my life worth living.
2. My family - the ones who still speak to me on my side, and my husband's siblings. They show me how families are supposed to be: loving, supportive and above all, FUN!
3. My friends Shelly and Phillip - I can't convince them to move to Austin, but I hope we always stay close.
4. My kitty Dinsy - there's nothing like the unconditional love you get from a pet. People who say cats don't love like dogs do are seriously misguided.
5. I'm thankful I do have a job (even if it is with a bunch of idiots) because so many in the mortgage industry lost their jobs this year.
6. My friends Tracye, Jimmy and Machelle - I'm so glad I caught up again with two of them and I hope the other one doesn't forget us. We've been friends far too long for that....
On "Black Fridays", I avoid the stores like the plague (22 years of working in retail will cure you of wanting to shop on the busiest shopping day of the year) and I make the trek to my hometown of Greenville to see my aunts and my cousin, all of whom I love dearly. My elderly aunt is not doing very well and I wanted to visit with her, but her husband, who normally keeps to himself and lets us catch up and go to lunch with my aunt Carol and my cousin Tracy, would NOT STOP TALKING VERY LOUDLY and incessantly. When he wasn't shouting, he was singing or whistling. I had not slept well the night before and wasn't feeling all that great, so after about an hour of being interrogated with the same questions:
1. Where's your husband?
2. Why isn't he with you?
3. Where are you going?
4. Where are we going?
5. Do you want some money?
I was exhausted. I honestly don't know how my elderly aunt puts up with it. He seems on the verge of dementia. My aunt told me that his daughter had had to put a freeze on their bank account because he gave his Social Security number and bank account info out to some woman who called him regarding some "sweepstakes" he had won, even though he had been repeatedly warned not to do that. He also compulsively gives money away to anyone he comes in contact with. He kept throwing mints, pens and anything else that was near at me, exhorting me to "PUT THAT IN YOUR PURSE!"
I didn't get to visit with my aunts or my cousin nearly as long as I would have liked to, because I was so exhausted I was worried about having to drive back. My eyes didn't want to focus, which they do when I need to rest, and my head was starting to spin. I felt terrible, because my elderly aunt seemed so disappointed when I told her I had to go. I love visiting with them and I only got to see them for a couple of hours. I won't get to see them again until next year. My aunt Carol and my cousin Tracy have to deal with him and they have enough on their plates. I wish I had their energy and their patience. I was holding the door open when those virtues were being handed out, apparently.
The rest of Friday went fine. After resting, my husband and I and my sister-in-law went to World Market, which wasn't crowded, oddly enough. Then Adrian and I went out to dinner with an old band mate of his (and friend of mine) and her husband. We had a lovely dinner at the Hare Krishnas' restaurant and then back to my sister-in-law's place for sleeping like the dead.
This morning, Saturday, my other sister-in-law took us out for lunch at On The Border. It was not so great. That place has really gone down hill. It was pouring with rain, and did so all the way back to Austin.
When we got home, Dinsy was waiting for us with two empty food bowls and a cross look on her furry little face. She soon got over it and was purring away with a full belly and a warm spot on the chair. I'm looking forward to sleeping very late in the morning and psyching myself up for going back to work with the idiots. I shouldn't be so mean, I guess, they did give me a turkey. I'm going to cook it for Yule. I have to work on Christmas Eve, so we can't go up north again. Adrian's family are coming down here which will be great! We had such a good time last year. Now that's something to look forward to....
I'll take a clue from my friend Shelly and list the things I'm thankful for:
1. My husband Adrian - He's my best friend, my soulmate, my StudBoy(tm). I've learned far more from him than he'll ever know. He makes my life worth living.
2. My family - the ones who still speak to me on my side, and my husband's siblings. They show me how families are supposed to be: loving, supportive and above all, FUN!
3. My friends Shelly and Phillip - I can't convince them to move to Austin, but I hope we always stay close.
4. My kitty Dinsy - there's nothing like the unconditional love you get from a pet. People who say cats don't love like dogs do are seriously misguided.
5. I'm thankful I do have a job (even if it is with a bunch of idiots) because so many in the mortgage industry lost their jobs this year.
6. My friends Tracye, Jimmy and Machelle - I'm so glad I caught up again with two of them and I hope the other one doesn't forget us. We've been friends far too long for that....
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Take This Job and..........
don't shove it just yet, because I still need it until I find another one. I have had a nose full of these idiots. It's not just the constant "AWESOME!", that stopped back at the end of September when one co-worker quit. It's not even the creepy "Your team means EVERYTHING! Are you giving ALL to your TEAM?!?" messages on the monitors, constantly showing all day, every day, threatening to turn me into a Moonie if I let my guard slip for a split second.
No, it's the piss-poor lack of planning of the management and the monster ego of the CEO, a man spoken of in reverent tones by almost everyone there. This is a man of whom I've heard the following:
- "he walks the walk and talks the talk of the God I worship". That was in an email today.
- "if you look at his eyes, you can see the constant flow of ideas flitting across his mind. The man's a genius."
This is the same man who hires people based on their Enneagram scores, not on work history or personal references (If you're not familiar with the Enneagram, click on the link. It's pseudoscience at its worst).
This man also has determined (through the magic of the Enneagram) that he will mandate attendance of certain classes. Do these classes teach you how to perform your job better? Why, no, they don't. The classes are based on which of your personality traits that he has decided need pursuing. Mine was "leadership". Apparently, wanting to come to work early everyday, work through lunch and do my best to make as much money for his company as possible indicated a "lack of leadership skills".
So, every Monday for the last 3 weeks and for the next 7 weeks, he wants, nay, DECREES that I shall explore my leadership abilities in this class, leaving work to pile up on my desk. This also means that I get to work on Saturdays at time and a half to make up for the last hour and a half I lose on this class. Oh yes, and there's also "How Not To Think Like A Victim" classes. I get to take those too.
I recently attended a purely functional meeting between the upper management and the shipping dept. They asked what ideas we might have to make things run more smoothly. My ideas were the following:
- stop making us move to different cubicles all the time. I've been there less than 4 months and I just got moved into my 4th cubicle today. Fat lot of good THAT suggestion did.
- stop forcing us to take classes that have nothing to do with our jobs. If we were such damaged people, we should never have been hired in the first place. Believe you me, I wish that was the case with me....when I indicated that perhaps this indicated a Messiah complex on the CEO's part, you should have seen the looks I got. Like I had stepped on a kitten.....
- how about hiring some more shippers? Nope, didn't think so. They've hired 12 more production people, but no more shippers.
When I left my former job (oh, how my former co-workers will laugh when they read this post...'that bitch got what was coming to her!'), my boss gave me some helpful advice, which I would have followed, but could not. He told me to "hide it, if you're not feeling great." I can't HIDE anything. I'm physically unable to do that. My heart is on my sleeve, my emotions are always on my face. If I don't like something, you'll know about it, sooner or later, probably sooner. I've always been like that and I know a lot of people who don't like people who can't lie and fake things. My ex-boss is a very smart man. He doesn't lie, he just picks his battles. I've never been good at that. I've always been more like a Don Quixote type...tilting at windmills. That's why he has a very stressful, high-paying job and I'm stuck with this one. There was one lady at my former job who suggested that my way of being was due to "immaturity....or ADHD", but what the fuck did she know? She didn't even have a college degree and was jealous of mine. Now I have a chronic health condition and couldn't handle the stress even if I wanted to.
No, it's the piss-poor lack of planning of the management and the monster ego of the CEO, a man spoken of in reverent tones by almost everyone there. This is a man of whom I've heard the following:
- "he walks the walk and talks the talk of the God I worship". That was in an email today.
- "if you look at his eyes, you can see the constant flow of ideas flitting across his mind. The man's a genius."
This is the same man who hires people based on their Enneagram scores, not on work history or personal references (If you're not familiar with the Enneagram, click on the link. It's pseudoscience at its worst).
This man also has determined (through the magic of the Enneagram) that he will mandate attendance of certain classes. Do these classes teach you how to perform your job better? Why, no, they don't. The classes are based on which of your personality traits that he has decided need pursuing. Mine was "leadership". Apparently, wanting to come to work early everyday, work through lunch and do my best to make as much money for his company as possible indicated a "lack of leadership skills".
So, every Monday for the last 3 weeks and for the next 7 weeks, he wants, nay, DECREES that I shall explore my leadership abilities in this class, leaving work to pile up on my desk. This also means that I get to work on Saturdays at time and a half to make up for the last hour and a half I lose on this class. Oh yes, and there's also "How Not To Think Like A Victim" classes. I get to take those too.
I recently attended a purely functional meeting between the upper management and the shipping dept. They asked what ideas we might have to make things run more smoothly. My ideas were the following:
- stop making us move to different cubicles all the time. I've been there less than 4 months and I just got moved into my 4th cubicle today. Fat lot of good THAT suggestion did.
- stop forcing us to take classes that have nothing to do with our jobs. If we were such damaged people, we should never have been hired in the first place. Believe you me, I wish that was the case with me....when I indicated that perhaps this indicated a Messiah complex on the CEO's part, you should have seen the looks I got. Like I had stepped on a kitten.....
- how about hiring some more shippers? Nope, didn't think so. They've hired 12 more production people, but no more shippers.
When I left my former job (oh, how my former co-workers will laugh when they read this post...'that bitch got what was coming to her!'), my boss gave me some helpful advice, which I would have followed, but could not. He told me to "hide it, if you're not feeling great." I can't HIDE anything. I'm physically unable to do that. My heart is on my sleeve, my emotions are always on my face. If I don't like something, you'll know about it, sooner or later, probably sooner. I've always been like that and I know a lot of people who don't like people who can't lie and fake things. My ex-boss is a very smart man. He doesn't lie, he just picks his battles. I've never been good at that. I've always been more like a Don Quixote type...tilting at windmills. That's why he has a very stressful, high-paying job and I'm stuck with this one. There was one lady at my former job who suggested that my way of being was due to "immaturity....or ADHD", but what the fuck did she know? She didn't even have a college degree and was jealous of mine. Now I have a chronic health condition and couldn't handle the stress even if I wanted to.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Triggered Memories
Every year starting on November 1st, I give myself permission to listen to my favorite holiday CD, "A Charlie Brown Christmas" by Vince Guaraldi. I love this recording so much, I only listen to it during the holiday season, so it doesn't lose its power over me. This is one of the few recordings I've found that can trigger pleasurable childhood memories for me, such as:
- my mom and I getting the green bean casserole put together to take to my great-grandparents' house for the family xmas celebration. It's very cold outside and Mom is letting me carry the foil-wrapped glass dish to he car. I feel very excited that I'm going to see my family and also because there will be lots of wonderful food.
- a similar memory: Mom and I heading out to Campbell to see the family there. One year, when I was 6 years old (1971), my grandmother and I had baked cookies to leave out for Santa Claus with a glass of raw milk (they lived on a dairy farm). I was sleeping on the couch, and about 4am, a light from the kitchen woke me up. I sleepily woke up and saw my grandfather eating the cookies and drinking the milk! I cried, "PAPAW! Those are for Santa! Now he won't leave me any presents!!!"
My grandfather replied, "Aw hell, girl, there ain't no Santa Claus. Now git back to sleep!"
My grandmother "set him straight" the next day, but that's when I found out the awful truth.....I did get a great present that year; a stuffed Flip Wilson doll. When you pulled the string, Geraldine said "The Devil made me do it!"
There's another recording that gives me sad childhood memories, and I can't listen to the song without crying: "Young and Innocent Days" by the Kinks on the Arthur album.
I look back at the way I used to look at life
Soft, white dreams with sugar coated outside
It was great, so great
Young and innocent days
I wish my eyes could only see
Everything, exactly as it used to be
It’s too late, so late
Young and innocent days
I see the lines across your face
Time has gone and nothing ever can replace
Those great, so great
Young and innocent days
- Ray Davies
This song reminds me of when I was grown up and I found out that many of my happy memories from holiday celebrations were put on purely for the children's benefit. My mother's siblings were angry at their parents for mistreating them when they were children, and for making some of the grandchildren favorites and almost ignoring the others. This hurt me tremendously, thinking that all this jealousy and anger was swirling around me and I was too dumb to notice.
It also reminds me that the people I love have gone, leaving me bereft. Others I love have grown so much older and I realize that I won't have them much longer.
This song is beautiful, as are many of Ray Davies' songs, but this one I have to skip over when I listen to the CD. It hurts too much to hear the truth sometimes.
- my mom and I getting the green bean casserole put together to take to my great-grandparents' house for the family xmas celebration. It's very cold outside and Mom is letting me carry the foil-wrapped glass dish to he car. I feel very excited that I'm going to see my family and also because there will be lots of wonderful food.
- a similar memory: Mom and I heading out to Campbell to see the family there. One year, when I was 6 years old (1971), my grandmother and I had baked cookies to leave out for Santa Claus with a glass of raw milk (they lived on a dairy farm). I was sleeping on the couch, and about 4am, a light from the kitchen woke me up. I sleepily woke up and saw my grandfather eating the cookies and drinking the milk! I cried, "PAPAW! Those are for Santa! Now he won't leave me any presents!!!"
My grandfather replied, "Aw hell, girl, there ain't no Santa Claus. Now git back to sleep!"
My grandmother "set him straight" the next day, but that's when I found out the awful truth.....I did get a great present that year; a stuffed Flip Wilson doll. When you pulled the string, Geraldine said "The Devil made me do it!"
There's another recording that gives me sad childhood memories, and I can't listen to the song without crying: "Young and Innocent Days" by the Kinks on the Arthur album.
I look back at the way I used to look at life
Soft, white dreams with sugar coated outside
It was great, so great
Young and innocent days
I wish my eyes could only see
Everything, exactly as it used to be
It’s too late, so late
Young and innocent days
I see the lines across your face
Time has gone and nothing ever can replace
Those great, so great
Young and innocent days
- Ray Davies
This song reminds me of when I was grown up and I found out that many of my happy memories from holiday celebrations were put on purely for the children's benefit. My mother's siblings were angry at their parents for mistreating them when they were children, and for making some of the grandchildren favorites and almost ignoring the others. This hurt me tremendously, thinking that all this jealousy and anger was swirling around me and I was too dumb to notice.
It also reminds me that the people I love have gone, leaving me bereft. Others I love have grown so much older and I realize that I won't have them much longer.
This song is beautiful, as are many of Ray Davies' songs, but this one I have to skip over when I listen to the CD. It hurts too much to hear the truth sometimes.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Keeping Austin Weird singlehandedly
I love living in Austin. I've tried unsuccessfully to convert my family and friends into moving here too, not just because I miss them all terribly, but I want them to live in a place as great as Austin. Alas, they just won't listen....so they won't get to experience on a regular basis the "Roller Coaster" drive, aka my drive to and from work everyday.
This means driving east on Highway 290, which becomes Koenig Road when it crosses I-35, then Allandale Road when it crosses Burnet Road then Ranch Road 2222 when it crosses Mopac Freeway. The 13th Floor Elevators wrote a song about this drive called "Roller Coaster" on their 1st album. Members of the band used to drive up to Mount Bonnell to smoke pot so the Austin cops wouldn't bother them and this was the way to get there. It really IS like a roller coaster; I can't imagine making the drive while stoned. I drive it at 45mph, which is the fastest I feel comfortable making the hairpin turns going up and down the hills, and people fly past me like I'm standing still. I HOPE they're not stoned.....
It also means that they won't get to stand in the very spot where Austin Police shot Charles Whitman to death on August 1, 1966, when he decided to go up to the observation deck on the University of Texas Tower and start shooting people.
"There was a rumor about a tumor, nestled at the base of his brain".
- Kinky Friedman, "The Ballad of Charles Whitman"
I don't know about a tumor, but he was obviously crazy if you look at how he was dressed:
This was August in Texas, people......105 degrees outside, and this dingbat was wearing two sets of clothing. He probably welcomed getting killed by the police. Anyway, since my husband works in the Tower, we've been up on the Deck several times and it's always rather creepy, even with the beautiful view. Here's my feet standing in that same spot:
Notice that I was smart enough to wear only one pair of pants, plus I didn't have any pot, so cops were nowhere to be seen.
Why would you want to live anywhere else?
This means driving east on Highway 290, which becomes Koenig Road when it crosses I-35, then Allandale Road when it crosses Burnet Road then Ranch Road 2222 when it crosses Mopac Freeway. The 13th Floor Elevators wrote a song about this drive called "Roller Coaster" on their 1st album. Members of the band used to drive up to Mount Bonnell to smoke pot so the Austin cops wouldn't bother them and this was the way to get there. It really IS like a roller coaster; I can't imagine making the drive while stoned. I drive it at 45mph, which is the fastest I feel comfortable making the hairpin turns going up and down the hills, and people fly past me like I'm standing still. I HOPE they're not stoned.....
It also means that they won't get to stand in the very spot where Austin Police shot Charles Whitman to death on August 1, 1966, when he decided to go up to the observation deck on the University of Texas Tower and start shooting people.
"There was a rumor about a tumor, nestled at the base of his brain".
- Kinky Friedman, "The Ballad of Charles Whitman"
I don't know about a tumor, but he was obviously crazy if you look at how he was dressed:
This was August in Texas, people......105 degrees outside, and this dingbat was wearing two sets of clothing. He probably welcomed getting killed by the police. Anyway, since my husband works in the Tower, we've been up on the Deck several times and it's always rather creepy, even with the beautiful view. Here's my feet standing in that same spot:
Notice that I was smart enough to wear only one pair of pants, plus I didn't have any pot, so cops were nowhere to be seen.
Why would you want to live anywhere else?
Saturday, October 20, 2007
42
My great-grandparents used to play a dominoes game called "42" with their friends. I knew how to play dominoes, but I never found out where the 42 entered into it, unless you added up the dots on your dominoes. Seems to me like the game would be over pretty quick.....
I turned 42 today and Adrian treated me to a lovely day. He bought me a book I wanted ("The Story of the 13th Floor Elevators and Roky Erickson") and treated me to lunch at Red Lobster. My co-workers were baffled at my choice of restaurant for my birthday nosh, but Red Lobster has given me 30 years of comforting memories.
My mom used to let me skip school on the days when my grandmother had to drive to Dallas to get her post-colon cancer check-ups every year. She had colon cancer surgery in 1976 when I was 11 years old and for 5 years after that, she got checked every year. After her appointment, she would take me to lunch at Red Lobster on LBJ Freeway in Garland on the way home. My mom and I would eat at that same Red Lobster whenever we went to Dallas and she had the money for it. It was always a HUGE treat.
I ate there with my mom and my friend Esther on the day I had to check myself into Presbyterian Hospital psychiatric ward. It was a small bright spot in an otherwise horrific day, and it's the only part of that day that I remember really well, besides my new roommate falling asleep standing up in the hospital that afternoon. She was taking Halcion and had shuffled hypnotically over to my bedside to comfort me, her slippers rhythmically sliding across the floor in short bursts. I was sitting on my bed whimpering, because not only had I never been in the hospital for anything at that point, I was in the hospital now for being CRAZY. The Halcion kicked in at mid-sentence and she started snoring while she stood next to my bed with her hand on mine. I was so afraid she would collapse and hurt herself, I picked her up and laid her on her own bed. I hadn't slept for 2 weeks prior to that and I didn't sleep that night either, even though the nurses kept dosing me with benzodiazepam. It worked eventually, because I don't remember the next two weeks that I was in the locked ward. I had visitors apparently; Esther and her then boyfriend came to visit me and he was so freaked out by my "zombieness", Esther had to talk him out of kidnapping me from the hospital and taking me home with them.
That Red Lobster eventually became a funeral home. Adrian always wondered why they didn't keep the lobsters on the funeral home signs. It would have attracted sailors, so maybe they should have: "Let us bury you at sea, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!" or maybe "You stab 'em, we slab 'em, YARRR!!!" or how about "When you're dead, you ain't red no more!" Garland wasn't really anywhere close to the sea, but you get the idea. I don't know why people don't hire me to think this shit up for them.....
I turned 42 today and Adrian treated me to a lovely day. He bought me a book I wanted ("The Story of the 13th Floor Elevators and Roky Erickson") and treated me to lunch at Red Lobster. My co-workers were baffled at my choice of restaurant for my birthday nosh, but Red Lobster has given me 30 years of comforting memories.
My mom used to let me skip school on the days when my grandmother had to drive to Dallas to get her post-colon cancer check-ups every year. She had colon cancer surgery in 1976 when I was 11 years old and for 5 years after that, she got checked every year. After her appointment, she would take me to lunch at Red Lobster on LBJ Freeway in Garland on the way home. My mom and I would eat at that same Red Lobster whenever we went to Dallas and she had the money for it. It was always a HUGE treat.
I ate there with my mom and my friend Esther on the day I had to check myself into Presbyterian Hospital psychiatric ward. It was a small bright spot in an otherwise horrific day, and it's the only part of that day that I remember really well, besides my new roommate falling asleep standing up in the hospital that afternoon. She was taking Halcion and had shuffled hypnotically over to my bedside to comfort me, her slippers rhythmically sliding across the floor in short bursts. I was sitting on my bed whimpering, because not only had I never been in the hospital for anything at that point, I was in the hospital now for being CRAZY. The Halcion kicked in at mid-sentence and she started snoring while she stood next to my bed with her hand on mine. I was so afraid she would collapse and hurt herself, I picked her up and laid her on her own bed. I hadn't slept for 2 weeks prior to that and I didn't sleep that night either, even though the nurses kept dosing me with benzodiazepam. It worked eventually, because I don't remember the next two weeks that I was in the locked ward. I had visitors apparently; Esther and her then boyfriend came to visit me and he was so freaked out by my "zombieness", Esther had to talk him out of kidnapping me from the hospital and taking me home with them.
That Red Lobster eventually became a funeral home. Adrian always wondered why they didn't keep the lobsters on the funeral home signs. It would have attracted sailors, so maybe they should have: "Let us bury you at sea, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!" or maybe "You stab 'em, we slab 'em, YARRR!!!" or how about "When you're dead, you ain't red no more!" Garland wasn't really anywhere close to the sea, but you get the idea. I don't know why people don't hire me to think this shit up for them.....
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
at the bottom of the well
This week's homework assignment from the shrink is:
a. name 4 things I'm good at
The only things I could come up with related to work or how I do my job. I can't say that I'm a talented artist like my husband or a great educator like my friend. I can't even call myself a musician anymore. I guess I'm a good worker and I don't find much comfort or pride in that. It's like saying I'm a good donkey. I can't call myself a writer because I don't write. I can't keep a flow of words going anymore. It's too frustrating.
b. name 4 things that are good about me
When I get in black moods like I'm in now and have been in for some time, I can think of NOTHING. I'm not fishing for compliments here; this is an indicator that my depression is back very strong and perhaps I shouldn't be fighting myself about going back on to antidepressants. I've never had a healthy self-respect but my self-loathing is getting out of control lately. I don't like myself. The fact that other people may seem to tolerate my presence doesn't have any effect on that estimation.
c. name some clubs or associations that would be fun to get involved in
I joined Wheatsville Co-op but I haven't been to any meetings. Maybe I should go. I have no idea about other clubs in Austin; I'm sure there are loads but the idea of being among lots of college-age kids holds no allure for me. I do plan on Googling this subject to see if any clubs exist specifically for middle-aged depressed women with nasty attitudes. How about a "TOO OLD TO BE EMO" Club?
a. name 4 things I'm good at
The only things I could come up with related to work or how I do my job. I can't say that I'm a talented artist like my husband or a great educator like my friend. I can't even call myself a musician anymore. I guess I'm a good worker and I don't find much comfort or pride in that. It's like saying I'm a good donkey. I can't call myself a writer because I don't write. I can't keep a flow of words going anymore. It's too frustrating.
b. name 4 things that are good about me
When I get in black moods like I'm in now and have been in for some time, I can think of NOTHING. I'm not fishing for compliments here; this is an indicator that my depression is back very strong and perhaps I shouldn't be fighting myself about going back on to antidepressants. I've never had a healthy self-respect but my self-loathing is getting out of control lately. I don't like myself. The fact that other people may seem to tolerate my presence doesn't have any effect on that estimation.
c. name some clubs or associations that would be fun to get involved in
I joined Wheatsville Co-op but I haven't been to any meetings. Maybe I should go. I have no idea about other clubs in Austin; I'm sure there are loads but the idea of being among lots of college-age kids holds no allure for me. I do plan on Googling this subject to see if any clubs exist specifically for middle-aged depressed women with nasty attitudes. How about a "TOO OLD TO BE EMO" Club?
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Farmers Market - links aplenty!
Last Wednesday, I stopped by my local farmers market on the way home. There's a small one right smack dab in the middle of a newish housing/retail complex here called the Triangle. There were only about 15 or so stalls, not nearly as many as the big one downtown on Saturday mornings, but it was pleasant enough and I got some great stuff.
I bought some lovely squash and some bell peppers, also some locally made soap that absolutely rocks ass, as my pal Shelly would say. There were several food vendors there, so I stopped at one and bought a couple of frozen Boomerang's Aussie meat pies for dinner. An Australian version of a Cornish pasty, these had light flaky crusts and the fillings were quite good as well. There were also vendors of pizza, Nepalese vegan food, grass-fed bison and bistro-type fare, and live music on top of all that.
I would encourage anyone who reads this to visit the farmers market in their own hometowns. I remember the one in Greenville, where I grew up. My mom would always want to stop by there when we were downtown because the vendors had homegrown tomatoes and my mom LOVED tomatoes. They tasted better, looked prettier and were cheaper than the ones you found in the store. That's how farmers markets usually are. The produce I bought was about the same price as the organic produce you'd find at Whole Foods, but it was more convenient to get to after work. Plus, it's not just produce, there's other fun stuff too and it's a relaxing stroll. It's a great place to hang out on Saturday mornings or whenever your town's market happens. You'll get to buy beautiful fruits and veggies (probably grown in someone's back yard or "back 40" as they used to call it) grown without pesticides, bursting with flavor and goodness.
If you wondering why all the links, it's because I just figured out how to do it. It only takes me a few years.....just like it did to learn to eat healthy.
I bought some lovely squash and some bell peppers, also some locally made soap that absolutely rocks ass, as my pal Shelly would say. There were several food vendors there, so I stopped at one and bought a couple of frozen Boomerang's Aussie meat pies for dinner. An Australian version of a Cornish pasty, these had light flaky crusts and the fillings were quite good as well. There were also vendors of pizza, Nepalese vegan food, grass-fed bison and bistro-type fare, and live music on top of all that.
I would encourage anyone who reads this to visit the farmers market in their own hometowns. I remember the one in Greenville, where I grew up. My mom would always want to stop by there when we were downtown because the vendors had homegrown tomatoes and my mom LOVED tomatoes. They tasted better, looked prettier and were cheaper than the ones you found in the store. That's how farmers markets usually are. The produce I bought was about the same price as the organic produce you'd find at Whole Foods, but it was more convenient to get to after work. Plus, it's not just produce, there's other fun stuff too and it's a relaxing stroll. It's a great place to hang out on Saturday mornings or whenever your town's market happens. You'll get to buy beautiful fruits and veggies (probably grown in someone's back yard or "back 40" as they used to call it) grown without pesticides, bursting with flavor and goodness.
If you wondering why all the links, it's because I just figured out how to do it. It only takes me a few years.....just like it did to learn to eat healthy.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Well....OK, then.
I thought I was getting bored with my job, then on my 2 month anniversary last Friday, the controller (an important sounding position, isn't it? Makes it sound like we're all marionettes and she's in charge of the strings) called me into her office and told me that they were very pleased with my performance and were giving me a $2 an hour raise.
I was relocated to a new cubicle that day and I'm on a "team" now, along with a closer, a funder and an underwriter. I will work only on their files and I'll be responsible for QCing everything and ordering the wires. So, a challenge is in store for me.
I also FINALLY found a shrink who'll I'll be seeing regularly. My first appointment with her was that day too. I was so relieved to find someone to talk to after looking for literally 2 years now. All the shrinks in Austin either don't take my insurance or aren't accepting new patients. She gave me an "activity log" to keep track of for a week until I see her again. She says that many depressed patients don't reward themselves enough. I'm not sure what she means by "reward" though. We'll take that up next time.
I was relocated to a new cubicle that day and I'm on a "team" now, along with a closer, a funder and an underwriter. I will work only on their files and I'll be responsible for QCing everything and ordering the wires. So, a challenge is in store for me.
I also FINALLY found a shrink who'll I'll be seeing regularly. My first appointment with her was that day too. I was so relieved to find someone to talk to after looking for literally 2 years now. All the shrinks in Austin either don't take my insurance or aren't accepting new patients. She gave me an "activity log" to keep track of for a week until I see her again. She says that many depressed patients don't reward themselves enough. I'm not sure what she means by "reward" though. We'll take that up next time.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Now I'm a Farmer and I'm Diggin', Diggin', Diggin'!
The flowers have been blooming and it would be great if I could go out in the back yard without losing half my blood volume in the first 5 minutes to the mosquitos. It's hard to garden (Carmen?) when you're woozy.
The cannas are so tall, I had to get a step ladder to take this photo. I have yellow cannas and orange ones.
The caladiums (caladia?) showed up this year. They weren't there last year. MAGIC GARDEN!!
There's also a small plant all by itself with a pretty little pink flower....I call it Harold.
Then there's this grassy type bush with tiny purple flowers in it......dunno what it is either, but it's nice.
I've also got a kitchen garden going in containers. I've got Sweet Basil. Thai Basil, Peppermint, Rosemary and Flowering Lavender. The plant at the back is an ivy I got from a co-worker last year as a birthday prezzie. I haven't killed it all year!! I've also started a coleus in a pot in my kitchen window from seeds, and it's so gratifying to see the little sprouts push up through the soil.
Whatever farmer's genes I've inherited through 300 years of farmer ancestry seem to be working now. I can actually grow stuff now. I'll be glad when it cools off so the flying vampires die and I can spend more time outside.
The cannas are so tall, I had to get a step ladder to take this photo. I have yellow cannas and orange ones.
The caladiums (caladia?) showed up this year. They weren't there last year. MAGIC GARDEN!!
There's also a small plant all by itself with a pretty little pink flower....I call it Harold.
Then there's this grassy type bush with tiny purple flowers in it......dunno what it is either, but it's nice.
I've also got a kitchen garden going in containers. I've got Sweet Basil. Thai Basil, Peppermint, Rosemary and Flowering Lavender. The plant at the back is an ivy I got from a co-worker last year as a birthday prezzie. I haven't killed it all year!! I've also started a coleus in a pot in my kitchen window from seeds, and it's so gratifying to see the little sprouts push up through the soil.
Whatever farmer's genes I've inherited through 300 years of farmer ancestry seem to be working now. I can actually grow stuff now. I'll be glad when it cools off so the flying vampires die and I can spend more time outside.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Record Store-ies - Celebrity Edition
I worked at the record store for 8 years. Because of its stellar reputation in the record collectors circle (which also includes musicians), every now and then celebrities would visit the store. I was not the type (nor were my co-workers) to be "star-struck" or act stupid when a famous person would darken our door; I figured they put on their pants one leg at a time too, right? I was fortunate enough to meet many people whom I greatly admired (in no particular order):
1. I was in college at North Texas and I came in late from class one day. There was a little boy standing at the counter, which he could barely see over. As I walked behind him, he turned slightly and I noticed that it wasn't a little boy, it was an incredibly short man whose head was even with my boobs (lucky him). I went behind the counter, put my books down and my manager handed me a silver American Express card with the name "Paul Simon".
I thought, "Wow, not only is the poor guy really short, he's named Paul Simon. I'll bet he gets ribbed about that all the time". Then I looked at the guy.
Oh. It IS Paul Simon. Wow, he's really short.
He was very nice and signed some autographs for me and my manager. He and his wife came back some time later to buy records to play at her father's funeral. She was very nice too and very tall, towering over her shorter and much older husband. They're still married, so things must be going well for them. Paul is married to Edie Brickell, singer for a Dallas band called the New Bohemians who had a big hit called "What I Am" back in the 80s. All of the New Bohemians bought records at the store, even the one who just got shot to death by his neighbor.
2. I came back from lunch one day and my manager Chuck told me to check out the guy in the 78 room, but don't bother him. I wandered back toward the hatch in the wall that divided the main store from the 78 room and noticed the shabby looking rat-like man listening to 78s on the record player. I didn't recognize him, so Chuck told me who he was and also told me that he had been in before and was very prickly, so don't ask him for an autograph. OK, whatever.
About 3 hours later, Mr. Shabby Rat-Like came up to the counter and wordlessly laid a stack of 78s on the counter. I mentioned that I'd be happy to give him a discount and all he did was nod his head slightly. I rang up R. Crumb's order, he paid and then he left, all without saying a word to me.
Maybe my ass wasn't big enough for him.
My husband and I went to see the movie "Crumb" at its Dallas premiere and I met the director and Crumb's Cheap Suit Serenaders bandmate Terry Zwigoff. I gave him a card for the store (which he had heard of from Crumb) and he came in the next day and bought some records. He was very nice and although a tad shabby, not the slightest bit rat-like.
3. Chuck handed me a letter with a want list of 78s and a return address of "William Morris Agency" in New York City. Mr. Allen Konigsberg was looking for some rare Dixieland 78s, most of which we happened to have in stock. I thought that name sounded familiar. In the letter, he asked us to call him and let him know which records we had and he gave a number, so I called. A woman answered and I told her who I was and why I was calling. She immediately put Mr. Konigsberg on the phone and my hunch was correct; Woody Allen was very happy to hear from us that we had most of the records on his list and would be happy to ship them to him ASAP. Chuck handled subsequent orders from him.
4. I was sitting at the store one day alone when a white stretch limo pulls up in front. The driver opens the car door and a man wearing sunglasses gets out and walks into the store. I asked if I could help him find anything.
"Where are MY records?" He didn't take off his sunglasses.
I showed him the Vocals section and pointed out HIS divider card. He flipped through HIS records.
"You don't have a copy of 'Reunion'?", he sniffed.
I looked under the fixture where we kept extra LPs.
"Nope. Sorry."
"Shit!" B.J. Thomas then swept out the door and got back into his tacky limo and drove away back into HasBeen Land, from whence he slithered.
5. I was alone at the store one evening (again). A very tall blonde youngish looking man came in with a shorter blonde older looking woman. They were looking at LPs for a bit and then came up to the counter.
"Do you carry styli for record players"? Yes, we did.
They had been to the Mexican flea market across the street from the store and found an old Donnie and Marie record player that still worked, but lacked a stylus. I found a stylus that fit and Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon were very pleased that they would be able to play records on their Donnie and Marie player.
Probably not Sonic Youth records, though.
6. I had worked at the store alone all day and it was 15 minutes until closing. I was bored, tired and wanted to go home and be with my husband. I was getting ready to close a little early since nobody had set foot in the store for the last hour when a short man with a white jacket and a black rooster hair cut came in. I recognized him and secretly groaned because I knew I couldn't throw him out.
"I'm a big fan of yours, but I'm closing in 15 minutes, so you'll have to hurry. I've been here all day by myself".
"Oh, sure, I didn't realize the time, I'll hurry."
Since he was so nice about it, I let Marty Stuart shop for an extra 30 minutes.
1. I was in college at North Texas and I came in late from class one day. There was a little boy standing at the counter, which he could barely see over. As I walked behind him, he turned slightly and I noticed that it wasn't a little boy, it was an incredibly short man whose head was even with my boobs (lucky him). I went behind the counter, put my books down and my manager handed me a silver American Express card with the name "Paul Simon".
I thought, "Wow, not only is the poor guy really short, he's named Paul Simon. I'll bet he gets ribbed about that all the time". Then I looked at the guy.
Oh. It IS Paul Simon. Wow, he's really short.
He was very nice and signed some autographs for me and my manager. He and his wife came back some time later to buy records to play at her father's funeral. She was very nice too and very tall, towering over her shorter and much older husband. They're still married, so things must be going well for them. Paul is married to Edie Brickell, singer for a Dallas band called the New Bohemians who had a big hit called "What I Am" back in the 80s. All of the New Bohemians bought records at the store, even the one who just got shot to death by his neighbor.
2. I came back from lunch one day and my manager Chuck told me to check out the guy in the 78 room, but don't bother him. I wandered back toward the hatch in the wall that divided the main store from the 78 room and noticed the shabby looking rat-like man listening to 78s on the record player. I didn't recognize him, so Chuck told me who he was and also told me that he had been in before and was very prickly, so don't ask him for an autograph. OK, whatever.
About 3 hours later, Mr. Shabby Rat-Like came up to the counter and wordlessly laid a stack of 78s on the counter. I mentioned that I'd be happy to give him a discount and all he did was nod his head slightly. I rang up R. Crumb's order, he paid and then he left, all without saying a word to me.
Maybe my ass wasn't big enough for him.
My husband and I went to see the movie "Crumb" at its Dallas premiere and I met the director and Crumb's Cheap Suit Serenaders bandmate Terry Zwigoff. I gave him a card for the store (which he had heard of from Crumb) and he came in the next day and bought some records. He was very nice and although a tad shabby, not the slightest bit rat-like.
3. Chuck handed me a letter with a want list of 78s and a return address of "William Morris Agency" in New York City. Mr. Allen Konigsberg was looking for some rare Dixieland 78s, most of which we happened to have in stock. I thought that name sounded familiar. In the letter, he asked us to call him and let him know which records we had and he gave a number, so I called. A woman answered and I told her who I was and why I was calling. She immediately put Mr. Konigsberg on the phone and my hunch was correct; Woody Allen was very happy to hear from us that we had most of the records on his list and would be happy to ship them to him ASAP. Chuck handled subsequent orders from him.
4. I was sitting at the store one day alone when a white stretch limo pulls up in front. The driver opens the car door and a man wearing sunglasses gets out and walks into the store. I asked if I could help him find anything.
"Where are MY records?" He didn't take off his sunglasses.
I showed him the Vocals section and pointed out HIS divider card. He flipped through HIS records.
"You don't have a copy of 'Reunion'?", he sniffed.
I looked under the fixture where we kept extra LPs.
"Nope. Sorry."
"Shit!" B.J. Thomas then swept out the door and got back into his tacky limo and drove away back into HasBeen Land, from whence he slithered.
5. I was alone at the store one evening (again). A very tall blonde youngish looking man came in with a shorter blonde older looking woman. They were looking at LPs for a bit and then came up to the counter.
"Do you carry styli for record players"? Yes, we did.
They had been to the Mexican flea market across the street from the store and found an old Donnie and Marie record player that still worked, but lacked a stylus. I found a stylus that fit and Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon were very pleased that they would be able to play records on their Donnie and Marie player.
Probably not Sonic Youth records, though.
6. I had worked at the store alone all day and it was 15 minutes until closing. I was bored, tired and wanted to go home and be with my husband. I was getting ready to close a little early since nobody had set foot in the store for the last hour when a short man with a white jacket and a black rooster hair cut came in. I recognized him and secretly groaned because I knew I couldn't throw him out.
"I'm a big fan of yours, but I'm closing in 15 minutes, so you'll have to hurry. I've been here all day by myself".
"Oh, sure, I didn't realize the time, I'll hurry."
Since he was so nice about it, I let Marty Stuart shop for an extra 30 minutes.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Awesome!
My job is still plugging away quite nicely. Although I am bored with shipping, I started funding loans today, so that should be an adventure, given my math skills. One thing I don't like about my new co-workers (and most of them seem to do it) is that "Awesome!" seems to be the exclamation of choice here:
"How are you today, Lisa?"
"I'm fine, thanks."
"AWESOME!"
"You're doing an awesome job, Lisa!"
"Thanks for showing me that computer short-cut, Lisa. You're awesome!"
People, the Grand Canyon is awesome, Victoria Falls is awesome, even Mount Rushmore is awesome, but I am not awesome. People here seem to use it in every sentence, like awesome Stepford Wives, so I thought to counteract that, I would use "groovy". So every time someone wields an "awesome!" against me, I parry with an equally spectacular "groovy!", to which the general reply is a stunned shake of the head and a "groovy?....awesome!".
It'll catch on, I'm sure....
"How are you today, Lisa?"
"I'm fine, thanks."
"AWESOME!"
"You're doing an awesome job, Lisa!"
"Thanks for showing me that computer short-cut, Lisa. You're awesome!"
People, the Grand Canyon is awesome, Victoria Falls is awesome, even Mount Rushmore is awesome, but I am not awesome. People here seem to use it in every sentence, like awesome Stepford Wives, so I thought to counteract that, I would use "groovy". So every time someone wields an "awesome!" against me, I parry with an equally spectacular "groovy!", to which the general reply is a stunned shake of the head and a "groovy?....awesome!".
It'll catch on, I'm sure....
Friday, August 17, 2007
Week Full of Foot Trouble
Adrian has an old surgical textbook from the 1920s with terrible pictures of people with rectal and anal problems: fissures, hemorrhoids, etc. He calls it his "Bookful of Butt Trouble".
I've had a week full of foot trouble. At work Monday, I noticed a sharp pain in my left ankle. When I got home that evening, there was a lot of swelling around my ankle bone and some redness. I figured something had bitten me, so I put some ice on it. There wasn't any pain so I wasn't worried.
By Wednesday, there were red streaks radiating up my leg from my ankle bone, which was swollen so much I couldn't put a sock on it. The pain was so bad by Thursday, I called my doctor and went in for a visit. He said it looked like an infection, but he wanted to do blood work in case it might be a blood clot. His nurse couldn't get any blood out of me after sticking me 4 times, so I went to a lab, where I got stuck (this time successfully) for the 5th time that day. Doctor said he would call me if the lab results indicated a possible blood clot. Doc asked me to draw a line around the border of the redness with a Sharpie, so he could see if it had gotten better or worse when I came in for a follow up today. He gave me a scrip for some antibiotics and a note for work and I limped out the door.
I went home, drew on my leg with the Sharpie and fell asleep on the couch. The phone woke me up at 4:30. It was the doctor, telling me to "go to the emergency room immediately." I said I would wait for my husband to get home from work in 30 minutes and Doc said "don't wait on him. Call him and tell him where you'll be". Oh great! I've got a blood clot and I might stroke out at any minute???
I called Adrian and asked him to come home immediately, which he did. We went to the emergency room at the Heart Hospital at Austin, which is the place to go if you don't want to wait. We were the only ones there, so they put me in a room right away. A doctor came in and looked at me and said "that's cellulitis", then walked out. What the fuck is cellulitis??? Why do I get stuff that I've never heard of?? Another doctor came in later and explained that it looked like a bug bite had caused an infection of the inner lining of my skin on part of my foot and it was a good thing that I came in, because it was starting to go up my leg. She said she wanted to do an ultrasound to rule out blood clots, so the ultrasound person was called. She came in and I spent 30 minutes having an ultrasound wand ground into my groin and down my leg while I tried not to scream. She couldn't get anywhere near my calf because it was too painful, but she determined that I was clot-free. YAY!
The doc gave me ANOTHER scrip for another antibiotic because "we've had a problem with MRSA going around". MRSA is a deadly staph bacteria that is drug resistant, and she thought that 2 antibiotics would surely knock the cellulitis out. She also told me that people with autoimmune disease usually have problems with cellulitis (Tracy???).
My foot looks better today but it still hurts like shit. I also still have a black ink line snaking up my leg for the doctor to peruse this afternoon. It reminds me of when I first got my tattoo and people would ask me "did you draw that on your wrist?" At the time, I would answer, "Yes, I'm 30 years old and all I do is sit around and draw on myself". Well, now I'm almost 42 and I really do draw on myself. I should have gotten Adrian to do it, it would have looked better.
I've had a week full of foot trouble. At work Monday, I noticed a sharp pain in my left ankle. When I got home that evening, there was a lot of swelling around my ankle bone and some redness. I figured something had bitten me, so I put some ice on it. There wasn't any pain so I wasn't worried.
By Wednesday, there were red streaks radiating up my leg from my ankle bone, which was swollen so much I couldn't put a sock on it. The pain was so bad by Thursday, I called my doctor and went in for a visit. He said it looked like an infection, but he wanted to do blood work in case it might be a blood clot. His nurse couldn't get any blood out of me after sticking me 4 times, so I went to a lab, where I got stuck (this time successfully) for the 5th time that day. Doctor said he would call me if the lab results indicated a possible blood clot. Doc asked me to draw a line around the border of the redness with a Sharpie, so he could see if it had gotten better or worse when I came in for a follow up today. He gave me a scrip for some antibiotics and a note for work and I limped out the door.
I went home, drew on my leg with the Sharpie and fell asleep on the couch. The phone woke me up at 4:30. It was the doctor, telling me to "go to the emergency room immediately." I said I would wait for my husband to get home from work in 30 minutes and Doc said "don't wait on him. Call him and tell him where you'll be". Oh great! I've got a blood clot and I might stroke out at any minute???
I called Adrian and asked him to come home immediately, which he did. We went to the emergency room at the Heart Hospital at Austin, which is the place to go if you don't want to wait. We were the only ones there, so they put me in a room right away. A doctor came in and looked at me and said "that's cellulitis", then walked out. What the fuck is cellulitis??? Why do I get stuff that I've never heard of?? Another doctor came in later and explained that it looked like a bug bite had caused an infection of the inner lining of my skin on part of my foot and it was a good thing that I came in, because it was starting to go up my leg. She said she wanted to do an ultrasound to rule out blood clots, so the ultrasound person was called. She came in and I spent 30 minutes having an ultrasound wand ground into my groin and down my leg while I tried not to scream. She couldn't get anywhere near my calf because it was too painful, but she determined that I was clot-free. YAY!
The doc gave me ANOTHER scrip for another antibiotic because "we've had a problem with MRSA going around". MRSA is a deadly staph bacteria that is drug resistant, and she thought that 2 antibiotics would surely knock the cellulitis out. She also told me that people with autoimmune disease usually have problems with cellulitis (Tracy???).
My foot looks better today but it still hurts like shit. I also still have a black ink line snaking up my leg for the doctor to peruse this afternoon. It reminds me of when I first got my tattoo and people would ask me "did you draw that on your wrist?" At the time, I would answer, "Yes, I'm 30 years old and all I do is sit around and draw on myself". Well, now I'm almost 42 and I really do draw on myself. I should have gotten Adrian to do it, it would have looked better.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
A Good Kind of Tired
My new job is still going very well. I've worked quite a bit of overtime so far, including 4 extra hours this morning (Saturday). My next paycheck should look very nice indeed. Since I'm not on the phone a lot (not at all really), I might treat myself to an i-Pod next paycheck. I've noticed that a lot of my co-workers either use them or play CDs at the desks. I don't want to bother with carting a bunch of CDs around, so a Shuffle would be good.
My last job has stiffed me on 5 days of vacation pay I was owed when I left. I was owed a total of 8 days total, but I got a check for only 3 days. I've emailed my boss about it (he said he was unaware of the situation), and if he can't fix it, I'll be going through other channels.
My friends Phillip and Shelly came down last weekend and we had a great time hanging out. We went to the County Line BBQ place and fed the turtles, visited a vegan bakery:
We also had lunch with our pal John, plus Adrian's sister and her husband had come down the same weekend, so we all had a nice visit. A very enjoyable weekend.....
My last job has stiffed me on 5 days of vacation pay I was owed when I left. I was owed a total of 8 days total, but I got a check for only 3 days. I've emailed my boss about it (he said he was unaware of the situation), and if he can't fix it, I'll be going through other channels.
My friends Phillip and Shelly came down last weekend and we had a great time hanging out. We went to the County Line BBQ place and fed the turtles, visited a vegan bakery:
We also had lunch with our pal John, plus Adrian's sister and her husband had come down the same weekend, so we all had a nice visit. A very enjoyable weekend.....
Saturday, July 21, 2007
My New Job
They all seem to like me. A lot. Actually that's an understatement and I'm not bragging; my supervisor told me and several other people she introduced me to that she had been "fighting the urge to jump up and down and scream YIPPEE!". Well.....OK. They all seem very nice and went out of their way to make me feel welcome. I thought they might pee on the carpet when I told them that I had shipped only 3 files my first day there, but once I got settled in, I could probably do much more, seeing as though I don't have to do data entry, scan files, send docs out to county clerks for recording and send recorded docs back to the lenders, load copiers and fax machines with papers and fix them if they jammed, call copier companies to come out and fix the copiers that are broken, deliver faxes and all the other piddly shit I had been stuck doing at my previous job. All I have to do here is stack files and ship them; plus, I get to wear jeans everyday. I feel positively spoiled!
Actually, I'm sure the only reason they're so glad I'm there is that they've been pleading for someone to help with shipping for over a year and they've been working 6 and 7 day weeks all that time. Plus, I have experience, so they didn't have to cold-train me. I pretty much walked in and could do the job. They wouldn't even let me work the first Saturday (today). I told my supervisor I had friends coming next weekend and that I would prefer to work this weekend instead of next, if possible; my supervisor told me I didn't have to work that weekend either if I didn't want to. I'm an hourly employee here, so if I work through my lunch times, I'll get paid for a little extra OT. Time and a half, baby!
I said in my previous post that I felt like maybe I'd had to settle for this job instead of one that I really wanted. I think this one will be just great, actually.....if the other shoe doesn't drop. I'll keep you posted.
Actually, I'm sure the only reason they're so glad I'm there is that they've been pleading for someone to help with shipping for over a year and they've been working 6 and 7 day weeks all that time. Plus, I have experience, so they didn't have to cold-train me. I pretty much walked in and could do the job. They wouldn't even let me work the first Saturday (today). I told my supervisor I had friends coming next weekend and that I would prefer to work this weekend instead of next, if possible; my supervisor told me I didn't have to work that weekend either if I didn't want to. I'm an hourly employee here, so if I work through my lunch times, I'll get paid for a little extra OT. Time and a half, baby!
I said in my previous post that I felt like maybe I'd had to settle for this job instead of one that I really wanted. I think this one will be just great, actually.....if the other shoe doesn't drop. I'll keep you posted.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
You Can't Quit, You're Fired!
The good news is, I got a new job. It's just doing the same thing I've been doing for another mortgage company, for not much more money at all and a further drive. I applied at several places and these kind folks saw my potential (or at least my past) and offered me a job. I could see the writing on the wall at my old job. The corporate owners are running the place into the ground and I will be majorly surprised if there's even an Austin location by the end of the year. I had to think defensively and get out of there before I showed up for work one day and the doors were locked.....
So to put a long story short, I typed up my two week notice to give to my boss, the man who hired me three and a half years ago. I wasn't feeling particularly excited or "neener neener, I've got a new job" because I didn't get either of the jobs I really wanted. I felt like I had to settle. Anyway, my boss knew that I had been looking for another job and I used him for a reference, so it wasn't a total surprise on his part. He's a good man and I count him as a friend. I gave him my notice and he congratulated me, gave me some well-needed advice, asked that I would spend my last 2 weeks teaching a couple of my co-workers how to do what I did, which I pretty much had to train myself to do. I assured him that I would and I went back to work.
Five o'clock rolls around (did I mention this was Friday the 13th?) and my boss asks me to come to his office. I go in and sit down, noticing uneasily the tight set to his jaw. "Uh oh, what have I done wrong?", I think. He says that his boss, one of the assholes from New York who came in last year and supposedly "rescued" the company, has told him to inform me that my services "are no longer required, effective immediately".
I must admit, after being initially stunned, I did get upset. I mean, I did already tell them that I was leaving and I had another job lined up, but I felt that I was being discarded, like my over 3 years of service was worth nothing to these idiots. It wasn't. The only person my service mattered to was in the office with me, and he seemed to be having a difficult time telling me. Maybe he wasn't, but when I was at my desk, blubbering like an baby and gathering my stuff into a box, surrounded by my co-workers who were trying to convince me that this was business as usual in the world of finance, he came up to me, pressed a $20 into my palm and told me to share a bottle of wine with my husband that night and that he was sorry.
I wasn't supposed to start my new job until July 30th, but I'll have to call my new boss tomorrow and see if they need me immediately, because I can't afford a 2 week vacation, no matter how much I'd like to take one.
So to put a long story short, I typed up my two week notice to give to my boss, the man who hired me three and a half years ago. I wasn't feeling particularly excited or "neener neener, I've got a new job" because I didn't get either of the jobs I really wanted. I felt like I had to settle. Anyway, my boss knew that I had been looking for another job and I used him for a reference, so it wasn't a total surprise on his part. He's a good man and I count him as a friend. I gave him my notice and he congratulated me, gave me some well-needed advice, asked that I would spend my last 2 weeks teaching a couple of my co-workers how to do what I did, which I pretty much had to train myself to do. I assured him that I would and I went back to work.
Five o'clock rolls around (did I mention this was Friday the 13th?) and my boss asks me to come to his office. I go in and sit down, noticing uneasily the tight set to his jaw. "Uh oh, what have I done wrong?", I think. He says that his boss, one of the assholes from New York who came in last year and supposedly "rescued" the company, has told him to inform me that my services "are no longer required, effective immediately".
I must admit, after being initially stunned, I did get upset. I mean, I did already tell them that I was leaving and I had another job lined up, but I felt that I was being discarded, like my over 3 years of service was worth nothing to these idiots. It wasn't. The only person my service mattered to was in the office with me, and he seemed to be having a difficult time telling me. Maybe he wasn't, but when I was at my desk, blubbering like an baby and gathering my stuff into a box, surrounded by my co-workers who were trying to convince me that this was business as usual in the world of finance, he came up to me, pressed a $20 into my palm and told me to share a bottle of wine with my husband that night and that he was sorry.
I wasn't supposed to start my new job until July 30th, but I'll have to call my new boss tomorrow and see if they need me immediately, because I can't afford a 2 week vacation, no matter how much I'd like to take one.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Helter Meme-ster
stolen from El Jive Miguel....
1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? My father named me after a rich man's airplane. He worked at Love Field in Dallas and some rich guy had a Lear Jet named the Lisa, so Lisa I was. My Mom wanted to name me Dawn Renee. Oh, the horror....
2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? a few days ago, when bemoaning my lack of luck in job hunting. I was feeling the Sword of Damocles a little too close that evening....
3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I have handwriting like a mental patient. Things in my handwriting should be either of the following:
a: prescriptions in triplicate
or
b: scary diatribes against the President, the government and/or whole-wheat pasta
4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? turkey breast or salami, salami, baloney
5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? NO. NO!!!
6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? why the hell not? I'm nice enough, I don't smell and I have a contagious laugh. You wouldn't want to *not* be friends with me, capice?
7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Do I fucking look like Doug Piranha to you? I prefer litotes, parody and satire, bucko...
8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes
9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? No, and I don't drink my own urine either, which would be equally stupid.
10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? I eat the low-cost HEB version of Nut N' Honey called Oats & More. I guess they didn't want to limit themselves.
11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? yes, I have to in order to get them off. I don't use elastic laces.....
12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? more so emotionally, not mentally
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Mint Chocolate Chip
14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? eyes, hands, how they're dressed.
15. RED OR PINK? Red.
16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I don't like myself very much. I wish I did. Maybe my life would have been easier if I had.
17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My mother, by far. After over 5 years, I still catch myself thinking "I should call Mom and tell her....". I also miss my grandmother Rosemary terribly.
18. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? grey sweats and a blue t-shirt. Who are you, the fashion police?
19. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? I fixed baked chicken breasts and green beans for supper. It was better than a cooked rat. (Note my wild and abandoned use of litotes!)
20. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The television, which is to say, nothing.
21. IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? on a bad day, I'd be blackest black with a stubby tip. On a good day, my fave color, dark forest green or silver maybe.
22. FAVORITE SMELLS? Gardenia, honeysuckle, my husband when I first see him after working all day.
23. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? my StudBoy(tm)
24. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? I worship the ground that she and her florid handwriting walk on....
25. HAIR COLOR? blonde by birth, auburn red by choice
26. EYE COLOR? greenish-grey
27. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Yes, but I haven't been able to afford to get my new ones yet. They're at the optomestrists waiting for me, but my checks have been so lousy, I've had to keep my glasses a bit longer....BASTARDS!
28. FAVORITE FOOD? Mexican or Indian
29. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Whichever doesn't suck.
30. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? can't remember....something on TCM
31. SUMMER OR WINTER? Winter, although at this point I'll take anything without rain.
32. HUGS OR KISSES? hugs, but only from people I want to be hugged by.
33. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? I need to go to the library, she muttered, whilst surrounded by piles of books....
34. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? the word Apple
35. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON T.V. LAST NIGHT? the last 2 episodes of Deadwood, the 3rd season, and the DVD of extras.
36. FAVORITE SOUND? the sound of my husband's voice, the sound of a day off from work, the sound of money in my account. I've missed that one lately.
37. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? The Beatles.
38. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Salisbury, Maine. Got lost on the way home to my aunt's house in Salem, New Hampshire from Logan Airport in Boston. Up there, you can cross the street and be in another state.
39. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I have several, but none I'll write about here.....
40. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? in a hospital which is no longer there in Greenville, Texas. It was an old folks activity center for a long time in the 70s and the delivery room where I first saw the light of early evening was then a men's restroom. I figured they should have put a plaque in my honor over a urinal or something. They razed the building to the ground instead.
41. WHAT SUPERPOWER WOULD YOU LIKE? The ability to not have to work for a living, yet STILL HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO LIVE ON! Imagine that!
1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? My father named me after a rich man's airplane. He worked at Love Field in Dallas and some rich guy had a Lear Jet named the Lisa, so Lisa I was. My Mom wanted to name me Dawn Renee. Oh, the horror....
2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? a few days ago, when bemoaning my lack of luck in job hunting. I was feeling the Sword of Damocles a little too close that evening....
3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I have handwriting like a mental patient. Things in my handwriting should be either of the following:
a: prescriptions in triplicate
or
b: scary diatribes against the President, the government and/or whole-wheat pasta
4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? turkey breast or salami, salami, baloney
5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? NO. NO!!!
6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? why the hell not? I'm nice enough, I don't smell and I have a contagious laugh. You wouldn't want to *not* be friends with me, capice?
7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Do I fucking look like Doug Piranha to you? I prefer litotes, parody and satire, bucko...
8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes
9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? No, and I don't drink my own urine either, which would be equally stupid.
10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? I eat the low-cost HEB version of Nut N' Honey called Oats & More. I guess they didn't want to limit themselves.
11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? yes, I have to in order to get them off. I don't use elastic laces.....
12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? more so emotionally, not mentally
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Mint Chocolate Chip
14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? eyes, hands, how they're dressed.
15. RED OR PINK? Red.
16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I don't like myself very much. I wish I did. Maybe my life would have been easier if I had.
17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My mother, by far. After over 5 years, I still catch myself thinking "I should call Mom and tell her....". I also miss my grandmother Rosemary terribly.
18. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? grey sweats and a blue t-shirt. Who are you, the fashion police?
19. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? I fixed baked chicken breasts and green beans for supper. It was better than a cooked rat. (Note my wild and abandoned use of litotes!)
20. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The television, which is to say, nothing.
21. IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? on a bad day, I'd be blackest black with a stubby tip. On a good day, my fave color, dark forest green or silver maybe.
22. FAVORITE SMELLS? Gardenia, honeysuckle, my husband when I first see him after working all day.
23. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? my StudBoy(tm)
24. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? I worship the ground that she and her florid handwriting walk on....
25. HAIR COLOR? blonde by birth, auburn red by choice
26. EYE COLOR? greenish-grey
27. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Yes, but I haven't been able to afford to get my new ones yet. They're at the optomestrists waiting for me, but my checks have been so lousy, I've had to keep my glasses a bit longer....BASTARDS!
28. FAVORITE FOOD? Mexican or Indian
29. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Whichever doesn't suck.
30. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? can't remember....something on TCM
31. SUMMER OR WINTER? Winter, although at this point I'll take anything without rain.
32. HUGS OR KISSES? hugs, but only from people I want to be hugged by.
33. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? I need to go to the library, she muttered, whilst surrounded by piles of books....
34. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? the word Apple
35. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON T.V. LAST NIGHT? the last 2 episodes of Deadwood, the 3rd season, and the DVD of extras.
36. FAVORITE SOUND? the sound of my husband's voice, the sound of a day off from work, the sound of money in my account. I've missed that one lately.
37. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? The Beatles.
38. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Salisbury, Maine. Got lost on the way home to my aunt's house in Salem, New Hampshire from Logan Airport in Boston. Up there, you can cross the street and be in another state.
39. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I have several, but none I'll write about here.....
40. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? in a hospital which is no longer there in Greenville, Texas. It was an old folks activity center for a long time in the 70s and the delivery room where I first saw the light of early evening was then a men's restroom. I figured they should have put a plaque in my honor over a urinal or something. They razed the building to the ground instead.
41. WHAT SUPERPOWER WOULD YOU LIKE? The ability to not have to work for a living, yet STILL HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO LIVE ON! Imagine that!
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
The Day I Cooked A Rat
When I first moved away from home, I didn't move very far away. Just next door in fact, to a trailer owned by my grandfather, located in a cow pasture under a stand of pecan trees. The trailer had seen better days. It had grungy carpet in the living area and in my bedroom, and the bathroom was outright scary. The only saving grace about this trailer was that it had a beautiful old Merritt & O'Keeffe stove in the kitchen, with a grill in the middle of the burners.
I lived there with a roommate, who was also my best friend from high school and two cats named Mousel and Gremmie. My friend and I were both attending classes at what was then East Texas State University and is now Texas A&M - Commerce. I was a music history major and she was also a music student, in performance. She would go on to switch to kinesiology. She was also a harpist and her 100+ year old harp stood in the living area. I worked second shift (2pm - 11pm, with overtime usually) at a cracker factory, a job I absolutely loathed.
One day in the middle of winter, a blanket of snow was glistening outside, a rarity in east Texas. I was planning to cook myself something warm for lunch so I wouldn't have to drive anywhere for fast food. I was already dreading the drive in to work that afternoon in the snow and ice.
I turned on the oven and opened up the fridge, looking for the ingredients I had purchased for my home-cooked lunch. Maybe there would be some left over for my supper and for my roommate too, who was in class at the time. As I was chopping veggies and getting my things in order, a terrible stench started to permeate the trailer. At first, I couldn't tell where the smell was coming from, so I stalked back and forth through the trailer, sniffing madly, until I realized that the horrible odor was issuing from the stove. I turned it off and started opening windows, letting out all the heat and letting in the ice-cold air from outside. I was fanning furiously and gagging all the while.
Just then, my roommate comes home from class and asks what the hell is going on? She starts griping that her room smells like whatever is ponging up the trailer and what did I do? Not what I meant to do, apparently.....
When the trailer aired out and the stove was cool again, we shut all the windows and got the heater started again. I lifted up the top of the stove and there in the corner was a small dried up little rat lodged in a hole in the wall of the stove.
Since then, I've taught myself how to cook and I've cooked things that smelled terrible and tasted even worse, but never anything that smelled as bad as that rat. Food Network is good for something, I've found. I do wish I still had that old stove. Cleaned out, of course.....
I lived there with a roommate, who was also my best friend from high school and two cats named Mousel and Gremmie. My friend and I were both attending classes at what was then East Texas State University and is now Texas A&M - Commerce. I was a music history major and she was also a music student, in performance. She would go on to switch to kinesiology. She was also a harpist and her 100+ year old harp stood in the living area. I worked second shift (2pm - 11pm, with overtime usually) at a cracker factory, a job I absolutely loathed.
One day in the middle of winter, a blanket of snow was glistening outside, a rarity in east Texas. I was planning to cook myself something warm for lunch so I wouldn't have to drive anywhere for fast food. I was already dreading the drive in to work that afternoon in the snow and ice.
I turned on the oven and opened up the fridge, looking for the ingredients I had purchased for my home-cooked lunch. Maybe there would be some left over for my supper and for my roommate too, who was in class at the time. As I was chopping veggies and getting my things in order, a terrible stench started to permeate the trailer. At first, I couldn't tell where the smell was coming from, so I stalked back and forth through the trailer, sniffing madly, until I realized that the horrible odor was issuing from the stove. I turned it off and started opening windows, letting out all the heat and letting in the ice-cold air from outside. I was fanning furiously and gagging all the while.
Just then, my roommate comes home from class and asks what the hell is going on? She starts griping that her room smells like whatever is ponging up the trailer and what did I do? Not what I meant to do, apparently.....
When the trailer aired out and the stove was cool again, we shut all the windows and got the heater started again. I lifted up the top of the stove and there in the corner was a small dried up little rat lodged in a hole in the wall of the stove.
Since then, I've taught myself how to cook and I've cooked things that smelled terrible and tasted even worse, but never anything that smelled as bad as that rat. Food Network is good for something, I've found. I do wish I still had that old stove. Cleaned out, of course.....
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Pissed off and a Feminist!
I've been looking for another job because my current employer refuses to pay me a decent wage. I think the writing's on the wall when they hire someone to be an accounting assistant who has never even had an office job before and they pay them a higher base salary than yours, and you've been a loyal employee for over 3 years. They've also been taking away the bonuses I depend on for much of my salary.
So far since I've sent out my resume, I've interviewed 3 times, twice at the same place. Both places turned me down with the same excuse: we need someone with more experience. I've tried to get hired at title companies before and unless you've actually worked at one before or own one it's damn near impossible to get a job at title company. I'm stumped at why title companies are such rarefied places to work; I clean up after them everyday. They obviously don't hire people who can read closing instructions or answer emails.
Both women who interviewed me told me all through each interview that I was "the perfect candidate for this job" and "you have exactly the qualifications we've been looking for for this position". So why didn't they hire me? I was told by one woman, who had told me that her previous employee (a woman in her 60s) had had a stroke and she didn't want to walk into her office and find her slumped over her keyboard again, that I wasn't "experienced enough" even though she told me otherwise earlier. Who did she hire? A woman in her 60s!
The second woman, who called me "perfect" and "just who she'd been looking for" said she hired someone for a "front-end assistant". Apparently, I was perfect for a "back end assistant", i.e. one who doesn't look good enough to meet with clients but can rustle papers in a hidden away cubicle. My current boss won't pay me what I'm worth, but he's not interested in the slightest about what I look like, other than I don't wear jeans except on Fridays. He only cares that I do my job well and I do. My only sin in his eyes is that I'm not male and I don't keep my mouth shut, therefore I don't deserve to get paid well.
Is this what feminism has come down to? Women won't hire you because you don't look like a model and men are still pissed that you're not at home barefoot and pregnant, so they won't pay you a fraction of what they'd pay a man for the same job? Unless of course, you DO look like a model and your pay mysteriously goes up commensurate with your level of attractiveness?
I get outraged when I hear younger women say that they're not feminists. Then in my eyes, they should be at home, pregnant, and they'd better fucking have dinner on the table when their man gets home at 6 or get a good beating. A woman not being a feminist is the stupidest fucking thing I've EVER heard. Being a feminist doesn't mean that you hate men. It just means that you think women deserve equal status (and equal pay) to men. In my opinion, women are equal to men. PERIOD.
I find it painfully depressing that young girls nowadays find it so easy to post pictures of themselves naked or scantily clad on the internet, or to fag it up before the camera, ala Girls Gone Wild. They're going to get a rough awakening one day 5 or so years down the line when they graduate and go looking for a job. Their prospective boss will Google their names and what do you think will pop up? "Oh, I was just a kid when I did that!" "Oh, I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing!". Yeah, I wanna hire you, baby! I'm still wondering when this great "lesbian awakening" happened; when I was a teen or even in my 20s, I didn't want to make out or even kiss another girl. I have no problem with genuine lesbians, just the wannabes.
It's not only the girls that do stoopid shit either, not by any means. One of our LOs, a young guy in his early 20s showed me his MySpace page one day, which consisted of pics of him drinking, getting drunk, being drunk or passed out. I mentioned that he might not want to show his supervisor that webpage and he thought I was being alarmist. He told me later that he had changed it because he "was older now". ROFL
I'm still going to try to find another job. I have to. I can't afford this one anymore. On that note, I've joined Weight Watchers. I don't know what else I can do. I need more money and I guess I'll have to look better to get another job. At my age, being a good and loyal employee who knows their business isn't good enough anymore. That's really frightening to me.
So far since I've sent out my resume, I've interviewed 3 times, twice at the same place. Both places turned me down with the same excuse: we need someone with more experience. I've tried to get hired at title companies before and unless you've actually worked at one before or own one it's damn near impossible to get a job at title company. I'm stumped at why title companies are such rarefied places to work; I clean up after them everyday. They obviously don't hire people who can read closing instructions or answer emails.
Both women who interviewed me told me all through each interview that I was "the perfect candidate for this job" and "you have exactly the qualifications we've been looking for for this position". So why didn't they hire me? I was told by one woman, who had told me that her previous employee (a woman in her 60s) had had a stroke and she didn't want to walk into her office and find her slumped over her keyboard again, that I wasn't "experienced enough" even though she told me otherwise earlier. Who did she hire? A woman in her 60s!
The second woman, who called me "perfect" and "just who she'd been looking for" said she hired someone for a "front-end assistant". Apparently, I was perfect for a "back end assistant", i.e. one who doesn't look good enough to meet with clients but can rustle papers in a hidden away cubicle. My current boss won't pay me what I'm worth, but he's not interested in the slightest about what I look like, other than I don't wear jeans except on Fridays. He only cares that I do my job well and I do. My only sin in his eyes is that I'm not male and I don't keep my mouth shut, therefore I don't deserve to get paid well.
Is this what feminism has come down to? Women won't hire you because you don't look like a model and men are still pissed that you're not at home barefoot and pregnant, so they won't pay you a fraction of what they'd pay a man for the same job? Unless of course, you DO look like a model and your pay mysteriously goes up commensurate with your level of attractiveness?
I get outraged when I hear younger women say that they're not feminists. Then in my eyes, they should be at home, pregnant, and they'd better fucking have dinner on the table when their man gets home at 6 or get a good beating. A woman not being a feminist is the stupidest fucking thing I've EVER heard. Being a feminist doesn't mean that you hate men. It just means that you think women deserve equal status (and equal pay) to men. In my opinion, women are equal to men. PERIOD.
I find it painfully depressing that young girls nowadays find it so easy to post pictures of themselves naked or scantily clad on the internet, or to fag it up before the camera, ala Girls Gone Wild. They're going to get a rough awakening one day 5 or so years down the line when they graduate and go looking for a job. Their prospective boss will Google their names and what do you think will pop up? "Oh, I was just a kid when I did that!" "Oh, I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing!". Yeah, I wanna hire you, baby! I'm still wondering when this great "lesbian awakening" happened; when I was a teen or even in my 20s, I didn't want to make out or even kiss another girl. I have no problem with genuine lesbians, just the wannabes.
It's not only the girls that do stoopid shit either, not by any means. One of our LOs, a young guy in his early 20s showed me his MySpace page one day, which consisted of pics of him drinking, getting drunk, being drunk or passed out. I mentioned that he might not want to show his supervisor that webpage and he thought I was being alarmist. He told me later that he had changed it because he "was older now". ROFL
I'm still going to try to find another job. I have to. I can't afford this one anymore. On that note, I've joined Weight Watchers. I don't know what else I can do. I need more money and I guess I'll have to look better to get another job. At my age, being a good and loyal employee who knows their business isn't good enough anymore. That's really frightening to me.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Creepiness ensues.....
I went to the eye doctor today for the first time in 3 years. I wore hard gas permeable contact lenses for more than 20 years, but about 2 years ago, my eyes started drying out and the lenses wouldn't stick to my eyes anymore. So...I went back to the hated coke bottle glasses, the bane of my childhood, always having to push them up on the bridge of my nose.
The good news is I get to wear soft lenses now. My astigmatism isn't so bad anymore. I have to go back and get fitted for them.
The bad news? Apparently, I sleep with my eyes open, so I either need to put this thick, viscous ointment in my eyes at night before I go to bed OR I can......
tape my eyelids shut.
Yes, you read that right, he said I should TAPE MY EYELIDS SHUT. Now, it's creepy enough that I sleepwalk on occasion, but I sleep with my eyes open too and I need to TAPE MY EYES SHUT?? That's fucked up! No wonder I can't sleep at night, I'm too busy scaring myself!
The good news is I get to wear soft lenses now. My astigmatism isn't so bad anymore. I have to go back and get fitted for them.
The bad news? Apparently, I sleep with my eyes open, so I either need to put this thick, viscous ointment in my eyes at night before I go to bed OR I can......
tape my eyelids shut.
Yes, you read that right, he said I should TAPE MY EYELIDS SHUT. Now, it's creepy enough that I sleepwalk on occasion, but I sleep with my eyes open too and I need to TAPE MY EYES SHUT?? That's fucked up! No wonder I can't sleep at night, I'm too busy scaring myself!
Monday, June 11, 2007
Frat Boys and their Dawgs
We had a run-in with a couple of the finer examples of the University of Texas' fraternity culture last Saturday night. My brother-in-law is very protective of his yard; he's worked hard to keep it looking nice. He'd have no qualms about taking a baseball bat (or worse) to anyone's head who decided to mess it up.
We went to my in-laws' house to visit them, right about the time when said frat boys decided it was a good idea to walk up into my in-laws' yard and allow their pony-sized dog to take a dump. In Austin, walking into someone's yard without their permission is called trespassing and carries a $500 fine. Now, it's one thing to let doggie do it's bidness in the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street and then pick it up in a bag and dispose of it; that's what most of Austin's responsible dog owners do. It's entirely another concept to walk your horse, errrr, dog practically onto someone's front porch and leave a steaming pile of crap.
I informed these flowers of young Texas manhood that my bro-in-law would shoot them AND their dog if he saw them in the yard so they needed to vamoose. They didn't respond, so I yelled, "GIT THAT DAWG OUTTA THUH YARD! WHAT ARE YA, DEAF?" or mannerly words to that effect, telling them so for their own safety, of course. One of them muttered, "we're going" and they skulked on up the street in the dark (it was after 10pm) right as my bro-in law came out saying, "what's going on?". We went inside for a visit and stayed for about an hour.
When we came out to our truck, there was a lovely smelling bag of dog shit on the hood of the truck, and more dog shit was smeared on the passenger side door handle. Just great. But see.....I remember what they looked like and what their dog looked like. So does my brother-in-law. I hope they have bullet-proof vests......
We went to my in-laws' house to visit them, right about the time when said frat boys decided it was a good idea to walk up into my in-laws' yard and allow their pony-sized dog to take a dump. In Austin, walking into someone's yard without their permission is called trespassing and carries a $500 fine. Now, it's one thing to let doggie do it's bidness in the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street and then pick it up in a bag and dispose of it; that's what most of Austin's responsible dog owners do. It's entirely another concept to walk your horse, errrr, dog practically onto someone's front porch and leave a steaming pile of crap.
I informed these flowers of young Texas manhood that my bro-in-law would shoot them AND their dog if he saw them in the yard so they needed to vamoose. They didn't respond, so I yelled, "GIT THAT DAWG OUTTA THUH YARD! WHAT ARE YA, DEAF?" or mannerly words to that effect, telling them so for their own safety, of course. One of them muttered, "we're going" and they skulked on up the street in the dark (it was after 10pm) right as my bro-in law came out saying, "what's going on?". We went inside for a visit and stayed for about an hour.
When we came out to our truck, there was a lovely smelling bag of dog shit on the hood of the truck, and more dog shit was smeared on the passenger side door handle. Just great. But see.....I remember what they looked like and what their dog looked like. So does my brother-in-law. I hope they have bullet-proof vests......
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Blah
Nothing's going on AT ALL, she said with a wink and a nudge....so I'll leave you all with this from Canned Heat. Don't forget to boogie!
P.S. That's not Ron Jeremy on bass, by the way.....
P.S. That's not Ron Jeremy on bass, by the way.....
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Chipmunk Cheeks
I thought at one point that maybe my diagnosis of having Sjogren's Syndrome was a mistake. I didn't have any of the symptoms; my eyes weren't dry and I still had plenty of saliva. Slowly, over the last year, my skin and hair has started drying out when they had been extremely oily before, and I had to stop wearing my contact lenses because my eyes had dried to the point where the lenses wouldn't stick to my eyes anymore. The joint pain and fatigue has gotten much worse.
This past three days, my submandibular (under the jaw) and parotid (in front of the ears) glands are swollen hard and huge, like I have the mumps. Whenever I try to chew, my jaw rubs against them and irritates them, making them bigger and more painful. My face is completely huge and round and my facial features swim in the middle like raisins in a vast bowl of pudding. Very attractive.....
I've been taking Tylenol for the pain. It'll be so much fun going back to work on Tuesday....
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Vacation!
This has been a quiet week. We've pretty much stayed at home, except for a day trip yesterday to Fredericksburg, a little German-themed tourist town in the hill country. There are loads of quaint little shops and restaurants there and we walked all over the downtown area. I'm paying for it today. My fibro was so bad that my physical therapist told me just to go home and rest. My glands at the base of my jaw are swollen up and are as hard as rocks.
I looked at different websites for Frederickburg to see what all types of lodgings were available, in case we wanted to spend the night. The only places listed on the websites were B&Bs and expensive resorts. Of course, when we get into town, we see a Super 8 motel and several other decent-looking inexpensive motels. I should have known better. A touristy-type place like that surely would have all types of lodgings, not just the expensive ones. We took our camera but didn't take any pictures, for some reason.
As far as souvenirs, I bought a t-shirt, a fridge magnet and a stuffed jackalope. I bought two hex signs from an Amish furniture dealer to hang on the doors of the shed. I also got some peanut butter fudge from a shop called Rustler Bob's and it is GOOD. When is fudge not good?
I looked at different websites for Frederickburg to see what all types of lodgings were available, in case we wanted to spend the night. The only places listed on the websites were B&Bs and expensive resorts. Of course, when we get into town, we see a Super 8 motel and several other decent-looking inexpensive motels. I should have known better. A touristy-type place like that surely would have all types of lodgings, not just the expensive ones. We took our camera but didn't take any pictures, for some reason.
As far as souvenirs, I bought a t-shirt, a fridge magnet and a stuffed jackalope. I bought two hex signs from an Amish furniture dealer to hang on the doors of the shed. I also got some peanut butter fudge from a shop called Rustler Bob's and it is GOOD. When is fudge not good?
Sunday, May 20, 2007
A long time ago....
in a land not so far away, HR Pufnstuf gave me the secret to true happiness: Marry your StudBoy(tm) and you'll be eternally happy.
And so we were married, 13 years ago today....and I am eternally happy, it's true.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Son of Record Store-ies
Another one of my co-workers at the record shop was a sweet little lady named Bess. Bess was probably in her late 70s or older when I worked there and she had worked in record stores since the 1940s. She was the stereotypical "little old lady" who looked as if she still wore white gloves to church. She enjoyed having lunch at the Luby's Cafeteria, where Miss Inez still played the organ during the lunch rush. My boss had given Bess a job when she read a newspaper article about how Bess had worked at Melody Shop in downtown Dallas for over 40 years and they had fired her so they could hire someone younger. Melody Shop quickly went out of business because of the bad publicity the story garnered.
Melody Shop's loss was our gain. Bess was a goldmine!
She told me some great stories about one of her favorite customers, Jack Ruby. Yep, THAT Jack Ruby. He used to bring some of his "floozies" (Bess's term) into Melody Shop and buy them records and record players. He always asked for Bess to wait on him and he always gave good tips. "I never believed all those stories about Mr. Ruby. He was always very nice to me." But not to Lee Harvey Oswald, apparently.
My favorite Bess story: one summer day, Bess and I were alone in the shop. A couple of "tough" looking punk wannabes came in and started looking through the stacks, making obnoxious remarks about the "fuckin' hippie records". I ignored them, as I was trying to re-alphabetize the country 45s. Bess walked up to the biggest one and asked sweetly in her tiny mousy voice, "can I help you young men find anything?"
He smirked at his friend and replied "yeah, ya got any Metallica?, which prompted snorts of laughter from both of them.
Bess turned around, flipped through the M's and pulled put a couple of records. "Here's a copy of Garage Days Re-Visited, and I believe this other one is the Enter Sandman 12-inch single. They're quite popular with the young people. Will that be cash, check or credit?"
The punk wannabes both stared at Bess like she was from another planet, ironic since both of them had multiple piercings and multi-colored hair, and this was before it was popular to look like a macaw. They bought their Metallica records and always said hello to Bess when they came in after that.
Bess was a rocker at heart, and I don't mean rocking chair.
Several memories related to the records we played in the store come to mind. By the way, this was a RECORD SHOP and we played RECORDS, not CDs:
1. We were all big Randy Newman fans, and a copy of his LP "Good Old Boys" was kept in the play stack behind the counter. We had explicit instructions to only play the less objectionable side two, NEVER side 1, which starts off with "Rednecks" ('we're keeping the niggers down" goes the chorus of that tune). Side 2 would be ending and I or another one of my co-workers would be involved in something or other and not paying attention. Bess would inevitably forget and flip the record over and then as I was helping a customer, I'd hear Randy sing "Last night I saw Lester Maddox with some smart-ass New York Jew", and I, Chuck or my boss would literally sprint through the store, leaping across the counter to rrrrrrriiiiiippppp the stylus off the record......
2. Whenever we played "Who Are You?" by the Who, my boss was usually in the office. At the point in the song where Daltrey shouts "Ahh, who the FUCK are you!?" she would come out into the store and always made sure we were all looking at her when she lip-synced that line. Then she'd turn around and go back into the office.
3. An older gentleman picks up a copy of "Trout Mask Replica", the Captain Beefheart LP, which had been on Chuck's desk. (Trout Mask Replica has an.... errrrr....unusual cover.) He brings it up to me at the front counter, shakes his head and asks me "what the HELL does this one sound like?"
The incredulousness in his voice immediately puts me into hysterics and I can't answer. Chuck comes up and says "what's up"? and I'm laughing so hard I can only point: record, old man, Chuck. Chuck says to the old guy, "Errrr, you won't like that one."
4. I was being interviewed for an article on vinyl vs. CDs in the Dallas Morning News when a customer calls and says that she needs a love song, but she can't remember which one. "Can you just name all the love songs you have in the store?"
5. I had a bit of a reputation for not suffering fools gladly. This happened several times: A customer came in and rebuffed me after I greeted them and asked what they were looking for.
"You can't POSSIBLY help me! You're much too young!" the customer pompously sniffs.
So they go to Chuck and ask him. He doesn't know the answer, so he asks me. Of course, I know the answer. The customer comes back up to the front counter, looking at me expectantly. "Well?"
"I'm too young to know what you're looking for, so I can't possibly help you", I seethe at them.
The customer runs back to Chuck, crying "she was rude to me!!"
Chuck replies in his laconic manner, "You're lucky she didn't leap over the counter and kick your ass."
Melody Shop's loss was our gain. Bess was a goldmine!
She told me some great stories about one of her favorite customers, Jack Ruby. Yep, THAT Jack Ruby. He used to bring some of his "floozies" (Bess's term) into Melody Shop and buy them records and record players. He always asked for Bess to wait on him and he always gave good tips. "I never believed all those stories about Mr. Ruby. He was always very nice to me." But not to Lee Harvey Oswald, apparently.
My favorite Bess story: one summer day, Bess and I were alone in the shop. A couple of "tough" looking punk wannabes came in and started looking through the stacks, making obnoxious remarks about the "fuckin' hippie records". I ignored them, as I was trying to re-alphabetize the country 45s. Bess walked up to the biggest one and asked sweetly in her tiny mousy voice, "can I help you young men find anything?"
He smirked at his friend and replied "yeah, ya got any Metallica?, which prompted snorts of laughter from both of them.
Bess turned around, flipped through the M's and pulled put a couple of records. "Here's a copy of Garage Days Re-Visited, and I believe this other one is the Enter Sandman 12-inch single. They're quite popular with the young people. Will that be cash, check or credit?"
The punk wannabes both stared at Bess like she was from another planet, ironic since both of them had multiple piercings and multi-colored hair, and this was before it was popular to look like a macaw. They bought their Metallica records and always said hello to Bess when they came in after that.
Bess was a rocker at heart, and I don't mean rocking chair.
Several memories related to the records we played in the store come to mind. By the way, this was a RECORD SHOP and we played RECORDS, not CDs:
1. We were all big Randy Newman fans, and a copy of his LP "Good Old Boys" was kept in the play stack behind the counter. We had explicit instructions to only play the less objectionable side two, NEVER side 1, which starts off with "Rednecks" ('we're keeping the niggers down" goes the chorus of that tune). Side 2 would be ending and I or another one of my co-workers would be involved in something or other and not paying attention. Bess would inevitably forget and flip the record over and then as I was helping a customer, I'd hear Randy sing "Last night I saw Lester Maddox with some smart-ass New York Jew", and I, Chuck or my boss would literally sprint through the store, leaping across the counter to rrrrrrriiiiiippppp the stylus off the record......
2. Whenever we played "Who Are You?" by the Who, my boss was usually in the office. At the point in the song where Daltrey shouts "Ahh, who the FUCK are you!?" she would come out into the store and always made sure we were all looking at her when she lip-synced that line. Then she'd turn around and go back into the office.
3. An older gentleman picks up a copy of "Trout Mask Replica", the Captain Beefheart LP, which had been on Chuck's desk. (Trout Mask Replica has an.... errrrr....unusual cover.) He brings it up to me at the front counter, shakes his head and asks me "what the HELL does this one sound like?"
The incredulousness in his voice immediately puts me into hysterics and I can't answer. Chuck comes up and says "what's up"? and I'm laughing so hard I can only point: record, old man, Chuck. Chuck says to the old guy, "Errrr, you won't like that one."
4. I was being interviewed for an article on vinyl vs. CDs in the Dallas Morning News when a customer calls and says that she needs a love song, but she can't remember which one. "Can you just name all the love songs you have in the store?"
5. I had a bit of a reputation for not suffering fools gladly. This happened several times: A customer came in and rebuffed me after I greeted them and asked what they were looking for.
"You can't POSSIBLY help me! You're much too young!" the customer pompously sniffs.
So they go to Chuck and ask him. He doesn't know the answer, so he asks me. Of course, I know the answer. The customer comes back up to the front counter, looking at me expectantly. "Well?"
"I'm too young to know what you're looking for, so I can't possibly help you", I seethe at them.
The customer runs back to Chuck, crying "she was rude to me!!"
Chuck replies in his laconic manner, "You're lucky she didn't leap over the counter and kick your ass."
Monday, May 14, 2007
more record store-ies
A couple of months ago I wrote about some of the more memorable customers I had when I worked at a used record store in Dallas. Those were the ones I remembered off the top of my head. Earlier today, I found my journal from those years and it definitely refreshed my memory of even more weirdos and unusual people:
1. A woman comes in and asks if we have any records by the band Point Blank. "My husband was in Point Blank and he wrote all their hits!"
"Oh yeah? What's his name?" She told me and I started looking through their records, all of which we happened to have at that particular point in time. "I don't see him listed on any of these, ma'am."
She becomes enraged ans starts yelling, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WHY ARE YOU SAYING THIS? YOU"RE ALL OUT TO GET MEEEEEE!" then she runs out of the store sobbing. She wasn't the first customer to run sobbing out the door after I was through with her....
2. Another woman came in and was looking through our Elvis Presley LPs. She brings a copy of Moody Blue up to me at the counter and says with a smirk, "You're ripping people off, you know."
"How is that?"
"This record is worth $40 and you have it marked for $20."
"How is it ripping people off if we sell the record for less than it's worth? I'd say that would be making them a deal, wouldn't you?", I replied, staring into her vacant eyes.
Her face sags heavily and she lays the record on the counter and walks out. About 10 minutes later, the phone rings.
"Hello, Record Shop."
" YOU'RE RIPPING PEOPLE OFF!! FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOU!!!"
I hang up on the nutty bitch and she proceeds to call back and hang up 6 times.
3. A mousy little woman came in one day and asked for some records by Eddie & the Cruisers. (Eddie & the Cruisers was a movie, not an actual band. John Cafferty & the Beaver Brown Band (a real band) did the music in the movie). I tell her that we have the soundtrack.
"Don't you have any of their earlier records?" she peered through coke bottle glasses.
"Well, they don't have any earlier records. Eddie & the Cruisers was just a movie, they weren't an actual band."
"YOU'RE LYING TO ME! I KNOW EDDIE PERSONALLY!"
I thought I saw her hair actually go on end and I wasn't in the mood to deal with a psycho, so I tried to calm her down and asked if she maybe had a list of "Eddie's" older records. She reached in her ratty looking purse and brought out a crumpled piece of paper, which read:
Eddie & the Cruisers
Eddie & the Cruisers 2
Eddie & the Cruisers
Eddie & the Cruisers
Eddie & the Cruisers
listed 25 times. I told her that I would keep her list and call her if any came in. She walked out to her car in the parking lot and started ranting and raving to no one in particular, waving her arms, walking in circles around her car and poking her finger in the air. A policeman happened to be driving by and he convinced her to leave, finally...and no, I never came across any early Eddie & the Cruisers records. Not even Eddie & the Cruisers 2- Electric Bugaloo.
4. A Peter Lorre lookalike with a comb-over and huge bug eyes brings a King Crimson LP up to me. He's sweating profusely, so I step back and he stands even closer to me and pulls the record out of the sleeve, being oh-so-careful not to touch the groove. He points to a particular spot on the groove and simpers to me, "this is where the guitar solo starts, heh, heh, heh, heh........
5. An old codger wearing a fedora and suspenders comes up to me, winks, nudges me in the ribs and says, Hey Blondie! Whar do yew keep the "saucy" records?"
6. A drunk white guy in a Hawaiian shirt and straw hat comes in with 2 attractive black women who clearly can't stand the sight of him. He sidles up to Chuck, the store manager, and starts proclaiming about all the reggae stars he once played with. "Marley, Tosh, Wailer...all of 'em!"
He was standing so close to Chuck I thought he might kiss him. The black ladies were muttering "drunk-ass motherfucker....stupid son of a bitch...." etc.
The guy then goes out to his car and changes his hat. He comes back in with his new headgear, goes right back up to Chuck and starts all over again. Again, Chuck convinces the guy that he's just not interested, so the guy goes out to his car AGAIN and gets another hat. Chuck finally told him to get out......
7. A man starts telling me that records are no good and everyone should switch to CDs IMMEDIATELY (The loonies always seem to talk in CAPITAL LETTERS). I mentioned that I prefer the sound of LPs, since analog is how the human ear hears.
"BULLSHIT!" CDs ARE BETTER AND YOU KNOW IT! YOU MUST BE A DRUG ADDICT!!"
8. One of my favorite customers was a small red-headed gay man who was a serious collector. He was always nice and a pleasure to help. His catchphrase was "now, Lisa, no repros!" meaning only 1st pressings, no reproductions. Like I said, he was a serious record collector. One day he came in looking very sad and ill. He told me that he had just been diagnosed as HIV positive. I told him how sorry I was and how much I always looked forward to visiting with him. He thanked me, then said he needed to leave because he was hungry. I offered to share my Cheetos with him. He gingerly took one out of the package and burst into tears. He left, then about 2 weeks later, a friend of his came in and told us that he had died.
My bosses and co-workers had their moments too. Our 78 guy was a WW2 veteran and knew everything about 78 rpm records. He was vaguely grumpy, but never rude to customers. When I knew him, he was in his 70s and his pot dealer used to come to the back door of the shop. He liked a nice smoke and pretty young boys too. None of us had any problems with either the pot smoking (we all did it too, after all) or the pretty young boys. We all liked him very much and he had loads of customers who would come in to listen to his stories. Unfortunately, sometimes he would get on my boss's nerves and they would snipe at each other across the store.
One day, he had been talking to a new customer about Bunny Berigan's recordings and the customer wanted to get to know him better.
"How long have you dealt in the old records?"
"Oh, about 50 years, ever since I got out the Army. I was in WW2, ya know. Got a Bronze Star."
"Are you a married man? Got any kids?"
"No sir, I'm a life-long bachelor!"
I was standing in the office (which was 6 feet away from the 78 room) talking to my boss, the store owner, and she could stand it no longer.
"Life-long QUEEN is more like it!!" she exclaimed.
I stared at my boss incredulously, she laughed with that barking laugh of hers and there was silence from the 78 room.
"Well, sir, I'll be going now".
I went to the 78 man's funeral and his last pretty young boy (who had caused him many problems, stealing from him and the like) showed up with a transvestite in full disco regalia: sequined tube top, white short shorts, fake eyelashes, the whole works. My co-worker's family knew nothing of his private life and they were absolutely horrified. The boy came up to me with his "date" and said "Hi Lisa, do you remember me?"
"Unfortunately, yes." I turned around and walked away.
1. A woman comes in and asks if we have any records by the band Point Blank. "My husband was in Point Blank and he wrote all their hits!"
"Oh yeah? What's his name?" She told me and I started looking through their records, all of which we happened to have at that particular point in time. "I don't see him listed on any of these, ma'am."
She becomes enraged ans starts yelling, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WHY ARE YOU SAYING THIS? YOU"RE ALL OUT TO GET MEEEEEE!" then she runs out of the store sobbing. She wasn't the first customer to run sobbing out the door after I was through with her....
2. Another woman came in and was looking through our Elvis Presley LPs. She brings a copy of Moody Blue up to me at the counter and says with a smirk, "You're ripping people off, you know."
"How is that?"
"This record is worth $40 and you have it marked for $20."
"How is it ripping people off if we sell the record for less than it's worth? I'd say that would be making them a deal, wouldn't you?", I replied, staring into her vacant eyes.
Her face sags heavily and she lays the record on the counter and walks out. About 10 minutes later, the phone rings.
"Hello, Record Shop."
" YOU'RE RIPPING PEOPLE OFF!! FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOU!!!"
I hang up on the nutty bitch and she proceeds to call back and hang up 6 times.
3. A mousy little woman came in one day and asked for some records by Eddie & the Cruisers. (Eddie & the Cruisers was a movie, not an actual band. John Cafferty & the Beaver Brown Band (a real band) did the music in the movie). I tell her that we have the soundtrack.
"Don't you have any of their earlier records?" she peered through coke bottle glasses.
"Well, they don't have any earlier records. Eddie & the Cruisers was just a movie, they weren't an actual band."
"YOU'RE LYING TO ME! I KNOW EDDIE PERSONALLY!"
I thought I saw her hair actually go on end and I wasn't in the mood to deal with a psycho, so I tried to calm her down and asked if she maybe had a list of "Eddie's" older records. She reached in her ratty looking purse and brought out a crumpled piece of paper, which read:
Eddie & the Cruisers
Eddie & the Cruisers 2
Eddie & the Cruisers
Eddie & the Cruisers
Eddie & the Cruisers
listed 25 times. I told her that I would keep her list and call her if any came in. She walked out to her car in the parking lot and started ranting and raving to no one in particular, waving her arms, walking in circles around her car and poking her finger in the air. A policeman happened to be driving by and he convinced her to leave, finally...and no, I never came across any early Eddie & the Cruisers records. Not even Eddie & the Cruisers 2- Electric Bugaloo.
4. A Peter Lorre lookalike with a comb-over and huge bug eyes brings a King Crimson LP up to me. He's sweating profusely, so I step back and he stands even closer to me and pulls the record out of the sleeve, being oh-so-careful not to touch the groove. He points to a particular spot on the groove and simpers to me, "this is where the guitar solo starts, heh, heh, heh, heh........
5. An old codger wearing a fedora and suspenders comes up to me, winks, nudges me in the ribs and says, Hey Blondie! Whar do yew keep the "saucy" records?"
6. A drunk white guy in a Hawaiian shirt and straw hat comes in with 2 attractive black women who clearly can't stand the sight of him. He sidles up to Chuck, the store manager, and starts proclaiming about all the reggae stars he once played with. "Marley, Tosh, Wailer...all of 'em!"
He was standing so close to Chuck I thought he might kiss him. The black ladies were muttering "drunk-ass motherfucker....stupid son of a bitch...." etc.
The guy then goes out to his car and changes his hat. He comes back in with his new headgear, goes right back up to Chuck and starts all over again. Again, Chuck convinces the guy that he's just not interested, so the guy goes out to his car AGAIN and gets another hat. Chuck finally told him to get out......
7. A man starts telling me that records are no good and everyone should switch to CDs IMMEDIATELY (The loonies always seem to talk in CAPITAL LETTERS). I mentioned that I prefer the sound of LPs, since analog is how the human ear hears.
"BULLSHIT!" CDs ARE BETTER AND YOU KNOW IT! YOU MUST BE A DRUG ADDICT!!"
8. One of my favorite customers was a small red-headed gay man who was a serious collector. He was always nice and a pleasure to help. His catchphrase was "now, Lisa, no repros!" meaning only 1st pressings, no reproductions. Like I said, he was a serious record collector. One day he came in looking very sad and ill. He told me that he had just been diagnosed as HIV positive. I told him how sorry I was and how much I always looked forward to visiting with him. He thanked me, then said he needed to leave because he was hungry. I offered to share my Cheetos with him. He gingerly took one out of the package and burst into tears. He left, then about 2 weeks later, a friend of his came in and told us that he had died.
My bosses and co-workers had their moments too. Our 78 guy was a WW2 veteran and knew everything about 78 rpm records. He was vaguely grumpy, but never rude to customers. When I knew him, he was in his 70s and his pot dealer used to come to the back door of the shop. He liked a nice smoke and pretty young boys too. None of us had any problems with either the pot smoking (we all did it too, after all) or the pretty young boys. We all liked him very much and he had loads of customers who would come in to listen to his stories. Unfortunately, sometimes he would get on my boss's nerves and they would snipe at each other across the store.
One day, he had been talking to a new customer about Bunny Berigan's recordings and the customer wanted to get to know him better.
"How long have you dealt in the old records?"
"Oh, about 50 years, ever since I got out the Army. I was in WW2, ya know. Got a Bronze Star."
"Are you a married man? Got any kids?"
"No sir, I'm a life-long bachelor!"
I was standing in the office (which was 6 feet away from the 78 room) talking to my boss, the store owner, and she could stand it no longer.
"Life-long QUEEN is more like it!!" she exclaimed.
I stared at my boss incredulously, she laughed with that barking laugh of hers and there was silence from the 78 room.
"Well, sir, I'll be going now".
I went to the 78 man's funeral and his last pretty young boy (who had caused him many problems, stealing from him and the like) showed up with a transvestite in full disco regalia: sequined tube top, white short shorts, fake eyelashes, the whole works. My co-worker's family knew nothing of his private life and they were absolutely horrified. The boy came up to me with his "date" and said "Hi Lisa, do you remember me?"
"Unfortunately, yes." I turned around and walked away.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Here it comes........
Just one more week until vacation. I hope we get the truck back from the shop by then, so we can actually DO something. The rental car we have (a 2007 Toyota Corolla) is pretty nice, though. It drives and handles remarkably well, enough that we're mooting getting rid of my Mom's old Cougar and getting one after the truck is paid off.
I work half days most of this week. My desk is piled high with crap that apparently only I can imagine how to do, so I'm not looking forward to coming back after vacation. If they think I'm going to be checking my work email and doing stuff while I'm at home, they are sadly mistaken. They don't pay me enough for that. I check it during the days I get off early since I'm supposed to be working anyway, but not on vacation.
I start physical therapy this week too. The chiropractor was stressing me out too much, to the point that I had a panic attack on Thursday. So, my regular doc suggested physical therapy instead of letting this woman (who does not have a medical degree) tell me that I need a CT scan on my chest and I need to see an endocrinologist for thyroid problems, which she diagnosed with no blood work. My regular doc does blood work on me several times every year and my thyroid numbers are always normal. It's gotten to the point where my blood pressure goes way up whenever I go to her office. It's always on the low side when my regular doc checks it.
Mother's Day is not good here, but Adrian and I went out for lunch and tried to enjoy ourselves. The panic attack on Thursday was partly because I remembered Mother's Day was today. It's just too hard to remember that I can't see her or talk to her anymore.
I work half days most of this week. My desk is piled high with crap that apparently only I can imagine how to do, so I'm not looking forward to coming back after vacation. If they think I'm going to be checking my work email and doing stuff while I'm at home, they are sadly mistaken. They don't pay me enough for that. I check it during the days I get off early since I'm supposed to be working anyway, but not on vacation.
I start physical therapy this week too. The chiropractor was stressing me out too much, to the point that I had a panic attack on Thursday. So, my regular doc suggested physical therapy instead of letting this woman (who does not have a medical degree) tell me that I need a CT scan on my chest and I need to see an endocrinologist for thyroid problems, which she diagnosed with no blood work. My regular doc does blood work on me several times every year and my thyroid numbers are always normal. It's gotten to the point where my blood pressure goes way up whenever I go to her office. It's always on the low side when my regular doc checks it.
Mother's Day is not good here, but Adrian and I went out for lunch and tried to enjoy ourselves. The panic attack on Thursday was partly because I remembered Mother's Day was today. It's just too hard to remember that I can't see her or talk to her anymore.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Guess what? You have a broken neck!
Well, really just a hairline fracture of a cervical vertebrae, and some cracked ribs too. The chiropractor gave me a note to work a half day today, be off tomorrow and work half days for the next week.
I'm glad we have a lawyer now........
UPDATE: the chiropractor told me this morning that she looked again at the x-ray of my neck and I DON'T have a hairline fracture, just whiplash and 2 cracked ribs.
so Guess what? I DON'T have a broken neck! YAY!
I'm glad we have a lawyer now........
UPDATE: the chiropractor told me this morning that she looked again at the x-ray of my neck and I DON'T have a hairline fracture, just whiplash and 2 cracked ribs.
so Guess what? I DON'T have a broken neck! YAY!
Friday, May 04, 2007
Concussion
Yes, my doctor says I have a concussion. I also have a terrible contusion (bruise) under my left breast that looks absolutely disgusting. She wanted me to go home after my appointment with her yesterday and not work today, but I compromised with not working late yesterday and only half a day today. Adrian also needs to see his doctor. He says he's OK, but men will never tell you when they hurt.
I also am in the process of hiring an attorney to represent us in case the insurance companies have to fight it out. The truck is in the shop, we have a rental car......now we just wait.....
I also am in the process of hiring an attorney to represent us in case the insurance companies have to fight it out. The truck is in the shop, we have a rental car......now we just wait.....
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
a lovely evening........
Old people should be required to take driving tests every time they renew their licenses after age 70. A 75 year old driver is 3 times more likely to die in a car crash than a 23 year old driver. Usually, it's an older driver losing control of their car that causes the most damage. A few years back, an elderly man stepped on the accelerator instead of the brake and killed 10 people at a farmer's market.
I was the recipient of this theory tonight. On the way home from work, my husband and I were riding along when an elderly man ran a stop sign. I could see that he wasn't going to stop, so I slammed on my brakes and started to lay on the horn. My hand didn't even get as far as the horn when our airbags deployed and we smashed into the front of the old man's car. We sat there stunned, in a choking haze of airbag dust.
We're both OK, as is the old man, but his car and our car will need extensive repairs. To add insult to injury, it started pouring with rain as we were talking to the cops. The cops ticketed the old man for running a stop sign. I got checked out by the paramedics even though I didn't feel I was hurt.
NOW I feel hurt. I have horrendous bruises on my chest and on my stomach, and my husband and I both are very sore and stiff. My face is red from the airbag dust and my eyes are irritated. We have insurance stuff to deal with tomorrow, so both of us are staying home from work. I should have the bruises looked at by my doctor and make sure that my back isn't injured further.
I'd rather be sore from exercising....
I was the recipient of this theory tonight. On the way home from work, my husband and I were riding along when an elderly man ran a stop sign. I could see that he wasn't going to stop, so I slammed on my brakes and started to lay on the horn. My hand didn't even get as far as the horn when our airbags deployed and we smashed into the front of the old man's car. We sat there stunned, in a choking haze of airbag dust.
We're both OK, as is the old man, but his car and our car will need extensive repairs. To add insult to injury, it started pouring with rain as we were talking to the cops. The cops ticketed the old man for running a stop sign. I got checked out by the paramedics even though I didn't feel I was hurt.
NOW I feel hurt. I have horrendous bruises on my chest and on my stomach, and my husband and I both are very sore and stiff. My face is red from the airbag dust and my eyes are irritated. We have insurance stuff to deal with tomorrow, so both of us are staying home from work. I should have the bruises looked at by my doctor and make sure that my back isn't injured further.
I'd rather be sore from exercising....
Friday, April 27, 2007
Who do you think you are?
I've had along-standing interest in genealogy, specifically in my own family's history. I've done my own research and borrowed the services of my distant cousin Martha Thayer to find out my English, German, Irish, Cherokee and Choctaw roots. It's as rewarding as a hobby can possibly be, finding out you and your family's role in history.
In the UK a few years back, there was a television series called Who Do You Think You Are? Each episode involves researching the family history of a particular celebrity. One of my favorite comedians (and writers) from the UK is Stephen Fry. He starred in the movie "Wilde" about Oscar Wilde and was nominated for an Oscar, and has most recently narrated the Harry Potter movies. Before that, he had a comedy series with Hugh Laurie (yes, Dr. "House") called A Bit of Fry & Laurie. He's a multi-faceted performer and I've been a fan of his for 20 years, probably. Stephen is thought of as being "quintessentially" English, due to his beautifully rich, plummy British accent. To the contrary, he is half Jewish and grew up among a large European Jewish family.
His episode of WDYTYA? is a search for his Jewish roots, starting with his grandfather Martin Neumann who originally hailed from Surany in what is now modern-day Slovakia. What Stephen finds out is heart-breaking and makes him realize how fortunate he is to even be alive. Most of his grandfather's family were killed in Auschwitz. He goes back to Vienna and finds many surprises, including finding his great-grandparents' names on a plaque outside the building they lived in before the Germans invaded Austria. Their names are there because a current resident thought it important to commemorate the Jewish residents who were sent to the concentration camps and never came back. Whole families were lost.
Here is the YouTube link to all seven 10-minute long excerpts from Stephen Fry's episode:
http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=WDYTYA+fry&search=Search
I highly recommend watching them. Even if you're not Jewish, it will help you see the futility and WRONGNESS of religious wars and religious persecution of ANYONE, not just Jews.
Stephen quotes Anwar Sadat: "Religious wars are just people fighting over who has the biggest invisible friend". Yes, it's really that childish. Think of that next time somebody says "we have to show those (Muslims, Jews, Catholics, Protestants, etc) who's boss". Whole families are being lost again, over and over. It's time to grow up now.
In the UK a few years back, there was a television series called Who Do You Think You Are? Each episode involves researching the family history of a particular celebrity. One of my favorite comedians (and writers) from the UK is Stephen Fry. He starred in the movie "Wilde" about Oscar Wilde and was nominated for an Oscar, and has most recently narrated the Harry Potter movies. Before that, he had a comedy series with Hugh Laurie (yes, Dr. "House") called A Bit of Fry & Laurie. He's a multi-faceted performer and I've been a fan of his for 20 years, probably. Stephen is thought of as being "quintessentially" English, due to his beautifully rich, plummy British accent. To the contrary, he is half Jewish and grew up among a large European Jewish family.
His episode of WDYTYA? is a search for his Jewish roots, starting with his grandfather Martin Neumann who originally hailed from Surany in what is now modern-day Slovakia. What Stephen finds out is heart-breaking and makes him realize how fortunate he is to even be alive. Most of his grandfather's family were killed in Auschwitz. He goes back to Vienna and finds many surprises, including finding his great-grandparents' names on a plaque outside the building they lived in before the Germans invaded Austria. Their names are there because a current resident thought it important to commemorate the Jewish residents who were sent to the concentration camps and never came back. Whole families were lost.
Here is the YouTube link to all seven 10-minute long excerpts from Stephen Fry's episode:
http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=WDYTYA+fry&search=Search
I highly recommend watching them. Even if you're not Jewish, it will help you see the futility and WRONGNESS of religious wars and religious persecution of ANYONE, not just Jews.
Stephen quotes Anwar Sadat: "Religious wars are just people fighting over who has the biggest invisible friend". Yes, it's really that childish. Think of that next time somebody says "we have to show those (Muslims, Jews, Catholics, Protestants, etc) who's boss". Whole families are being lost again, over and over. It's time to grow up now.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Spanish Pants
There was something different about Todd. He carried himself with an air of mystery, a sense of continental "je ne sais quois". He noticed how people looked at him as he passed by, gazing at him admiringly as if they knew he knew something they never would. He was a man of the world, a jet-setter, a man of taste.
Or so he thought.
People were actually looking at his pants. His "Spanish pants". He had just been to Spain for a fortnight and while in Madrid, had purchased a pair of bullfighter's short pants, with rhinestone stripes down each side and flowers embroidered on the thighs and across the rear, culminating in huge pink blooms on each cheek. These he wore with the customary white knee socks and black ballet shoes with little black pom-poms on them. That’s what people were staring at.
That and the little red cape.
Todd’s office had a casual dress code, but Todd thought that one should dress properly for the office, at least from the waist up. So, Todd decided to indulge himself in the sartorial version of a mullet: business from the waist up, party from the pants down. He wore an expensive cotton handmade shirt from Borelli, with French cuffs, silver cuff links and a Bruno Piatelli necktie. If you just saw Todd’s top half, you would see him for what he was; a banking industry professional with a taste for the finer things in life. If you looked down, you would think that Todd harbored a not-so-secret desire to be a circus performer or a particularly effeminate drag queen.
All that mattered to Todd was that people liked his Spanish Pants. Crowds gathered around him when he went out to lunch, staring and pointing. This attention made Todd feel important. The little red cape was necessary too. It gave drama to his Spanish Pants and people would get out of his way when he waved it around. Todd didn’t need a bull. He had Spanish Pants.....
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Winter Redux
It's very cold outside and it's sleeting. Adrian and I went to IKEA this afternoon and it started sleeting on our way home. I hope it doesn't kill all my flowers and plants. Two more big lilies showed up in the front bushes just last week.....
We bought a great floor lamp at IKEA. We had been wanting more ambient light in the front room, or "office" we call it. I also bought some cinnamon rolls, ginger snaps and some "Scandinavian Potato Chips" which are basically just thicker potato chips. Adrian got another couple of their good wood magazine holders. We could use at least 50 of those, but we only bought 2. Have to pay our taxes next week, you see......
I wanted to get one of their ergonomic memory foam pillows but of course they were out and wouldn't sell me a demo. "Health reasons", they ominously gave as the excuse. I guess they were worried that I'd catch some sort of monstrous head fungus or lice off a demo pillow.....
We bought a great floor lamp at IKEA. We had been wanting more ambient light in the front room, or "office" we call it. I also bought some cinnamon rolls, ginger snaps and some "Scandinavian Potato Chips" which are basically just thicker potato chips. Adrian got another couple of their good wood magazine holders. We could use at least 50 of those, but we only bought 2. Have to pay our taxes next week, you see......
I wanted to get one of their ergonomic memory foam pillows but of course they were out and wouldn't sell me a demo. "Health reasons", they ominously gave as the excuse. I guess they were worried that I'd catch some sort of monstrous head fungus or lice off a demo pillow.....
