Coffee Rhetoric: Drunk
Showing posts with label Drunk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drunk. Show all posts

October 21, 2009

Two Boxes of Douches and Snuggle Fabric Softener

Life is still sputtering along. I think I did well on my interview last Wednesday, but only a follow-up phone call will tell if I sold myself well enough. Needless to say, the search continues. And I'm hunting at a feverish pace, as my only other options are relocating, hooking, or relocating to hook. ...
Anyhow, two nights ago, while in my chariot (a.k.a. mass transit), a disheveled, drunkish looking man wearing the whitest pair of sneakers- (they struck a shocking, like-new contrast against his wrinkled black t-shirt, and dirty, faded black jeans)- stumbled on the bus balancing a cell phone against his ear, his fare, a plastic shopping bag, and his sobriety. He stood up front, reassuring whoever was on the other end of his call, that he was "on the bus now" and would "be there soon. bye!"
In awe of his super-white, squeaky clean, new sneakers, I broke my trance and noticed the contents of his bag... two boxes of Summer's Eve douche stacked on top of each other: Vinegar & Water and Island Splash (trust me, those were the varieties he purchased, because I'm familiar with the color code of each type of douche). Leaning against the douche boxes, completing the unusual menage a trois was a bottle of Snuggle fabric softener. I looked back up at the man... week old scruff served as a beard, his eyes were heavily lidded like he knocked back a few, and he leaned his back against a pole at the front of the bus, struggling to maintain his balance. He held on tight to his shopping bag though. Perhaps he needed to dull the pain of having to buy feminine douche and Snuggle, so he drank until he was numb? Just speculating...
Needless to say, I'm still a bit perplexed by what I spied.

April 22, 2009

I'm Thirsty...

... and I've been strongly advised to boil the tap water before I drink it. Well, I did and it isn't cold yet!
And to think of all of the hundreds of times I joked to my bottled water guzzling friends, "What's the point? We live in America. The water is fine!"
Now, they say that rotifers and copepods aren't harmful, but I'm not willing to risk the risk... so I'll stick to this here gin... until my boiled water cools down.

November 29, 2008

Bus Tales: Black Friday

Oh yes. It is the return of Bus Tales indeed. I've never really paid much attention to the day after Thanksgiving so aptly dubbed Black Friday. See, while I can appreciate an excellent deal, and love sales more than the next spender, I'm not a shopaholic. In fact, I hate shopping and do it online in the quiet sanctity of my home, pants optional. I cannot stand large crowds or places where massive groups of people congregate, and so I avoid places like parades, festivals, strip malls on the weekend, crowded elevators (if I can), buses packed to capacity (sometimes I have no choice), and spaces of the like.
INTRO: Friday, Early AM- Late Afternoon
Yesterday, my sisters were up at 4:30AM primed and ready to go huntin' for great post-Thanksgiving deals. I turned over and went back to sleep on my mother's chaise lounge. As the day progressed, I rocked back and forth, going through cell-phone withdrawal, because I lost mine last Saturday. I felt discombobulated (I've grown so attached) and cut off from the rest of society without it, but I sat and lazed about... procrastinating over having to go out into this Black Friday world where folks were getting stomped to death by crazed lunatics trying to purchase $300 computers and being shaken down by sneaky perps lying in wait, ready to rob happy shoppers swinging their bags in the crisp, autumn air. It was late in the afternoon, and my sisters still hadn't arrived.
I waited. And pissed around. Procrastinated. Waited... before finally deciding to go shower. Bathed and freshly scrubbed, I still did eff all. I effed around on my mom's computer. I ate more Thanksgiving desserts, while web surfing and emailing folks back and forth. Finally at around 3ish, my sisters returned. Frazzled and spent. I slowly got up from the computer and shuffled around deciding it was now or never. I figured the bulk of the crowd had probably dissipated. My mother shook her head at my late start. I shrugged at her. Needless to say, the mall was besieged by manic shoppers, large baby carriages, and mischievous teenagers meeting to do who knows what. I saw the diablo in everyone's eyes. I weaved in and out of bodies, trying hard to duck heavy, swinging shopping bags... throbbing and bursting at the seams from marked down merchandise! I suddenly felt faint. Faces started to bleed together, eyes became large and black, no whites to speak of. I started to sweat in that hot mall and undid the top button to my coat. My kneecaps started to go numb. I knew T-Mobile was just around the corner and I hung on for dear life as I forced my legs to work at a feverish pace so I could do my business and get the fuck out of there.
Needless to say, the BUS ride to the mall and back was just as harrowing...
PROLOGUE
The bus was packed to capacity. I sat there in my seat as standees weaved unsteadily in front of me. Afraid that someone might fart in my face, step on my foot, or fall in my lap, I clutched my purse tighter. I put my leather gloves on. I took them off. One talkative guy sporting a plaid ivy cap, backpack and a limp arm (with a hand that had loooooong nails) who'd tried to engage me in conversation earlier at the bus stop about his early shopping experience, stood up front and ran his mouth to the bus driver (an attractive, full-figured, middle-aged Black woman) about a wide array of interesting topics. They included but aren't limited to: his taste in women, his dark side, how he was writing a book on numerology, philosophers, his temper, his aversion to spicy women and how they gave him heartburn, his preference for MILD women, more about his dark side, how he was a true artiste who had to go to school for it and hated anyone with natural talent and no passion, the 8 Guinness stouts he drank during Thanksgiving, a cat he had named Baby who knew how to doo-doo in the toilet and used to lick his face and massage his back, and subjects of the like. He went on and on.
Suddenly, I noticed a rather slight man running alongside the bus and then finally in the street, risking the risk of getting hit in the process. The bus driver cursed him before deciding to pull over and stop for him. Breathless and toothless, he complained about her not stopping initially... she told him to shut the hell up and be thankful that she stopped because she "didn't have to" and to stop "figuring" (he said he figured she didn't want to stop for him) and sit down somewhere. He kept muttering. "You're STILL complaining," the driver noted, in disbelief. He laughed, embarrassed at being scolded and squeezed up front with the rest of the standing bodies. I kept my eyes averted to the floor of the bus. Trying desperately not to give in to PSIS. The bus jerked forward, then stopped for a woman with a thick West Indian accent and close cropped hair, which she wore in a natural. She squeezed on and engaged the driver, the man with the limp arm, and the toothless complainer in a spirited conversation about Thanksgiving, the curried coat she said she'd made for herself, her divorce, and her upcoming Christmas trip to Jamaica.
"Oh, I wish I was going there!" the toothless man said excitedly. "Now Jamaican women are HOT!!!" he continued.
The limp arm man chimed in, agreeing. The West Indian woman chuckled with satisfaction. She turned to show her appreciation, unfortunately and much to my chagrin (because I'd been looking at the back of her head through the sea of standing bodies)- she was the exception. Weeell, the woman was attractive in that avante-garde Wandaesque (from In Living Color) but not as extremely fugly way, if you're into that, definitely no Grace Jones though. She had on a nice, stylish warm down coat, however and her accent was nice. She made her way off when her stop came up and bid the front of the bus revelers adieu. Still amped, the toothless man continued to cackle and talk about women with Limp Arm... suddenly an unused crack needle fell out of his pocket. No one seemed to notice but me. Due to my neuroses (read: keen eye), I always tend to note the minutiae. I was riveted and enthralled by the crack tool. I looked at the needle then back at Toofus. I looked across at a guy with black rimmed eyeglasses (and equally as amused by the cracktacular goings-on up front)- to see if he had noticed. He seemed caught up in the rapture of the conversation unfolding up front, so I don't think he did. I stared back at the crack needle. See, judging from Toofus's skinny build (he said he was 140 pounds during parts of the animated chatter), piss poor dental hygiene, and over excited demeanor I was 110% certain he wasn't a diabetic. He cackled, his body shook. He appeared antsy. Suddenly he caught my gaze, looked down and finally noticed he'd dropped the host to his lil piece of crack heaven on the floor. He hurriedly picked it up and nervously shoved it back in his jeans pocket without missing a beat. I smirked. This time he shoved it deep down, ensuring it was nestled and safe in the confines of his pocket. His stop finally came up, he quickly said his goodbyes and pushed off taking one last, brief look at me.
We'd finally made it to the mall, where I struggled and elbowed my way towards my destination...
Epilogue
The bus ride back to my mother's house was relatively normal until the bus picked up passengers from Vine Street, sometime after 7:20pm. One guy under the influence stumbled on, he stood up front fidgeting inside his coat picket. "I got my bus card driver, I ain't tryin' to get a free ride," he promised. "You can sit down and look for your card," the driver advised and lurched forward. The man stumbled up front, right across from me and next to an extremely large man in a red Salvation Army apron (one of the annual holiday bell ringers stationed outside major spots trying to raise money for the organization, no doubt). " 'Scuse me" Drunk Puss said to the man, who moved over, allowing Drunky more space. He continued to fiddle for his bus card. He looked across at me. I turned away quickly and closed my eyes. "Hey Miss!" I pretended not to hear. Kept my eyes closed. " 'scuse me, MISS!" ... my eyes stayed closed. "MISS!!" I finally opened my eyes and slowly turned in his direction. "I like your boots!" I blinked lazily at him. Disinterested. "They're so shiny, and nice, and full of goodness..." I turned away from him and closed my eyes once more. He continued to spout a bunch of ridiculous and drunk banter as he dug 'round for his bus pass... A man with a cane (who smelled like a booze fiesta) also stumbled on and plopped down next to me- (Liquor, meth and crack must've been marked down as well, because folks under the influence were out in droves). Drunk Puss was apparently familiar with the new passenger, stood up to greet and fell on top of the old man, knocking into my shoulder in the process. I sighed heavily, irritated, and squeezed my eyes shut tighter, and put my hand over my face to block the pain of this circumstance out. "Oh, I'm sorry!" Drunk Puss said to his acquaintance.
"I love you man, but not THAT much."
He found his bus pass and FINALLY made his way up to settle his fare. He plopped back down and caused some more drunken damage. Finally the bus driver jerked forward and pulled over to the side of the road. He switched on the light up front. Sighing and anxious to get home, I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter, annoyed by the slight delay. I heard the driver whispering on the emergency phone. Probably about Drunk Puss, to a supervisor. A preemptive measure perhaps? He sat there for about five minutes, " 'scuse me driver, is there a PROBLEM!" Drunk Puss yelled up at him. The driver didn't answer. "Hm. Should I get OFF??" he yelled. Someone from the back of the bus answered, "Yes!" Passengers snickered.
The resident drunk passenger finally stumbled off shortly after the driver took off, much to everyone's delight. I'm starting to truly understand WHY the day after Thanksgiving is called Black Friday. It is undoubtedly a dark, scary experience. I'm none too worse for wear, however. And am furnished with a new cell phone to replace the lost one. I did this all for technology. ...

December 31, 2007

Pop It Good

New Year's Eve provides the opportunity, or excuse rather, to over imbibe in champagne, sparkling wines, and random other libations in the heat of the celebratory mood. Nothing however, agitates me more than seeing revelers shake up a perfectly good bottle of wine or them holding the bottle up in the air as they cork it, causing champagne to explode all over the place... wasting half of the goods and knocking someone in the face with the cork, in the process. It's a waste! by the time the fizz settles there's fuckall in the bottle and barely enough to go around. That being said... here are a few tips suggesting how one might want to open a bottle, like a decorous drunk. It works... I've opened bottles of champagne on flat, level surfaces before without damn near putting someone's eye out and causing the drink to go all over the floor and walls. Enjoy!

December 23, 2007

@!*!!

I blog alot about trying to slay some of my personal demons... but I honestly feel like up against a real, literal one that has decided to use my nose, ears, and head as its own personal condo!
I'm still in the throes of this massive sinus/head cold I have! I'm no stranger to sinus issues. In fact, I may just have a deviated septum (deviated septum = Hollywood actresses' new excuse to get rhinoplasty. P.S. What the hell is a deviated septum??). Anyway, self-diagnoses aside, methinks this is the worst sinus cold I've had in a long time! My head, nose, and ears are on effing fire! It's very uncomfortable, I haven't slept in about two days, I've thrown every thing I've had at it! We're talking heavy artillery! I was making progress yesterday. Everything started to clear out. I was in good spirits (figuratively and beverage wise), I could breathe freely, and I was relieved. This early morning (we're talking 3AM) I woke up, feeling like someone had poured acid in my nostrils as I slept. Now I can't breathe or taste (VERY unfortunate), my eyes are running, my gums are sore, I can't stop sneezing, and I'm very discombobulated. I'm typing slowly in an effort to cut down on grammatical erros and to formulate intelligible sentences here. We're talking THAT discombobulated. In fact, I'm so out of touch with reality that I actually sat there and watched Danielle Steele's Star on the tele. The WHOLE movie! While inside, I asked myself "why?" over and over again.
Ugh. Yes, I'm a whinger when I'm ill only because I don't get colds very often! But seriously, this is some serious bidness. It's like the demon was being pushed out of my system and on the way to the exit (blown out on a Kleenex basically) it caught hold of some rung or ledge, and is holding on for dear life... sharp nails and all. I just drank some hot miso soup for breakfast and downed some mango nectar (which has vitamin C). My goal is to have this monster slain by or before Tuesday!

Wish me luck. Im gonna go lay down and do some more whining.

UPDATE: The horrible force that has me feeling like a steaming pile of dog dookey, is called Sinusitis. Oh joy! "Nose irrigation" with a saline solution is recommended. Mine isn't particularly acute, so I gots it covered. Just sprayed some saline up the ol' nostrils. And I must say, it offered a bit of a reprieve from the intense inflammation.

December 01, 2007

Please Standby

I'm packing and getting ready to make a move... Restructuring and getting back on track is an overwhelming feat. Packing however, sucks more than anything that has ever sucked. I got rid of some shoes and still have too many pairs to contend with, so for the time being, they're all strewn in the middle of my floor. I've just been stepping over them. Which is a pain in the middle of the night when trying to feel my way in the dark, to the bathroom. Hopefully the very near future will bring welcome changes, a bigger apartment, and new opportunities, which I'll tackle with gusto! In the meantime, I've been killing myself packing and pondering what comes with, what's beat and needs to be trashed, and what goes into storage. I've also been looking into getting a post office box... which would make accepting gifts (hint-hint) a lot easier from kind readers. In any event, perhaps if I stop taking Bacaradi rum breaks, I could accomplish this feat quicker. Anyway, also enjoy this cool picture I took while riding down the street in West Hartford, CT. New England is a beaut, during the fall.

October 20, 2007

All day Friday, it rained cats and dogs. The humidity was high and the pressure on my chest and lungs was unbearable. I began to wheeze a little bit. There were intermittent moments of heavy down pours and then simple sprinkling with occasional misting. The day was gray and foggy. My morning and afternoon were relatively low key. A simple day off complete with a meeting followed by a quick stop home to change clothes, library visit to drop off DVDs and check email, and then a leisurely time spent in my favorite coffee house reading. The was evening stifling and caliginous. I got no reprieve from the humid air. And then all HELL broke loose! I'm alive to tell the tale, as vague as it may be here ...

August 03, 2007

Bus Tales: The Crazy

Yesterday was a scorcher. It was one of those hot days that made you sweat even if you were standing still. The concept of there being shade was nonexistent. There was no escape from the heat. I swear that my blinking made beads of sweat form on my forehead. So I tried to do it from behind my large sunglasses sporadically, as I hate to sweat. One interesting thing I noticed is that oppressive heat tends to bring what I refer to as The Crazy out in full force. It's like night of the living dead. Walking corpses trudging down the street with glazed-crazed looks in their eyes.
Several years ago, while en route to a gallery exhibition, a friend's car broke down in a questionable neighborhood. That day stands out in my mind as if it happened only yesterday because it was in the middle of the afternoon, and it felt as if it was a thousand degrees. I remember having to remove my watch because any thing that made contact with my sweaty skin made the heat that much more unbearable. We sat there for almost two hours, after having pushed that heap of junk over to the side of the curb (it broke down smack dab in the middle of the street, at a green light). We sat, and we sat, and we sweated, and sat. No air conditioner, no cold beverages. Just the windows rolled down, to no avail because there was no wind to speak of. Suddenly a shirtless man ran down the street, right by the car, waving a rather large knife in the air. Yelling and cursing. At first I thought the heat was making me hallucinate but alas, my mind was not playing tricks on me. I remember sweat trickling, glistening down his brown back as he ran like a crazed lunatic, ready to cut a mofo. Needless to say, we quickly rolled the windows up in that hot car, locked the doors, hunkered down with alarm and fear and with 'O' mouths, we said a silent prayer to ourselves. After having mouthed a collective "What the EFF??" Anyway, her parents finally came and rescued us in an air conditioned car. We never made it to that exhibit. I did go home and write a poem about it though.
So yes. yesterday it was that kind of crazy inducing heat. I boarded the bus and it was a relatively quiet ride, until this visibly drunk (or drugged up?) man boarded from a stop on Albany Avenue... stumbling and full of The Crazy. See, people afflicted with The Crazy always seem to single me out at some point during one of their spells. So I hastily put my ear plugs in and turned up the ol' MP3 player (not that that ever helps). He ranted and raved. Stumbled down the aisle, yelling for "change for a dollar!" He made his way to the back. Because I hate myself, I paused my MP3 player to listen and heard him slurring his way through some incoherent anecdote to some young girl in the back. Something having to do with a White woman being on her cell phone and her legs splayed... wide open. I think I heard him refer to the white woman by some unsavory name. The young girl in the back chuckled nervously, in that "please go awaaaaay" fashion. Unfortunately he stumbled his way back up towards the front and continued ranting. I rolled my eyes, silently hoping he wouldn't say anything to me. There was a young man about 19 or 20 years old, with cornrowed hair sitting next to me... sort of perpendicular actually. He looked annoyed as well. Man afflicted with The Crazy sat directly across from Cornrows. I forgot to mention that I had a large Panera Bread bag sitting next to me in the seat. I heard Man Afflicted yell in my direction: "YOU NEED HELP WIT' DAT BAG!!!" I ignored him and turned the music up louder. "HEY! EXCUUUSE ME. HEY! I SAAAAAID, DO YOU NEED HELP WIT DAT BAG!!!" I continued to ignore him, and stare out the window. Out of my peripheral view, I saw him lean closer... "NO!" I said quickly and turned away. "WHY?? You don't need help?? FINE THEN. Who CARES" and he proceeded to try to cuss me out, but his poisoned brain matter made his thoughts disjointed. His coded language indecipherable. "YOU CAN DO WHAT'CHU WANT!!!" He continued. Just then, Cornrows muttered, "You need to leave that junk alone and stop bothering people." "What?!" Man afflicted challenged. A bit taken aback. "I said, leave that junk alone" Cornrows repeated. "Maaan, I ain't oon no junk. I was just trying to be nice and ask her if she needed help with her bag! I ain't on no junk! She can go 'head. I don't care!" "Man, shut up" Cornrows said. Man afflicted started muttering something about Louis Farrakhan. *sigh* Who knows? Who cares? Why me? Luckily my stop came up shortly thereafter. But I do know that Cornrows' verbal smite towards Man Afflicted with The Crazy was a welcome reprieve.

March 24, 2007

It's a Jungle Out There!

Inclement weather prevented it from taking place, but today's mild weather allowed the postponed St. Patrick's Day parade to take place downtown, today. As I left for work at 9AM this morning, the bars seemed to be in full swing. Pratt street was slated to be blocked off for a grand celebration complete with plenty of libations to imbibe in and food. I saw a few party people, decked out in their best greenery, gearing up for the afternoon. I sighed, for I knew what the aftermath would be, after I got off of work late afternoon. People did NOT disappoint. Spit, paper, popped balloons, red plastic cups, ciggie butts, and the like, littered the city streets. I walked past several people... stumbling down the street, blank stares in their eyes, discombobulated, grunting and mumbling incoherently, and unable to get their faculties to work properly. I felt like the sole survivor in a zombie flick. I kept a safe distance between them and me. As I took in the remnants of the parade. I got a few lascivious stares but I refused to make eye contact, for fear of getting a limb ripped off and my heart violently extricated from my chest and devoured. Almost home, I passed two young women, green beads glistening in the late afternoon sun, green top hats, whooooooooooooooo-ing their way down the street, calling strangers "SEXY MOTHERFUCKERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRS!!!! LOOK AT THAT SEXY MOTHERFUCKER! HE LOOKS HOT!!" I sidestepped a frat dude, drunkenly shuffling down the street... arms swinging limply by his sides, lip busted and bloody. The scene looked amusingly apocalyptic and strange. Every so often, I'd hear the siren of a police car blaring down the street, and then see the lights blinking frantically in the distance. Now it's raining. Acid rain? That would be a fitting conclusion for a drunken and debauched night, that's far from being over! Luckily I'm tucked away, safe, within the confines of my apartment... with my Red Zinfandel.

July 17, 2005

I love this stuff!

Love Thy Booze Dealer

I live around the corner and way down the street from a little wine and spirit shop called Spiritus. The guys who work in there are friendly, helpful, and just an overall great lot. Sometimes they have free wine tastings and everyone in the neighborhood is welcome to come out and taste the new varietals they get in stock. I've yet to make a tasting due to work. This past week, I gathered up whatever minor ducats I had in my wallet and walked down for a bottle of my favorite Sicilian red. It's called Pinocchio. Try it if you haven't already. The label on the bottle features whimsical black and white sketchings of Pinocchio in random scenarios, so in essence, the bottles are great collectibles, each one features a different sketch of Pinocchio... but I digress... This past Wednesday, after I paid for my red, I turned to walk out the door when I finally noticed the music being played. It stopped me in my tracks. "Who is this?" I asked the guy with the blond, shoulder length, shaggy hair and the surfer-meets-Tom Selleck-chic mustache and beard, who rang my purchase. I think his name is John, but I'm not sure. I should be certain, considering how often I frequent the place. Anyway, he told me it was a CD of various artists he picked up, used, while in North Hampton, MA. He said it's by Jet Records or the CD was called Jet Society or something to that effect, perhaps both. Needless today, he offered to burn me a copy, which I thought was generous of him. I accepted. Yesterday/Saturday, I ran in for a Sauvignon Blanc and he rang me up again. He gave me my bagged purchase and then slyly slid the burned copy of the CD Jet Society, towards me. I was bit taken aback, because I honestly had forgotten and I guess I wasn't really expecting him to actually burn it for me. But then again, when I lived directly across the street from Spiritus, he lent me his trusty camp lighter so that I could light various incense sticks in my apartment. He trusted that I'd return it, and I did... so I shouldn't've been surprised that he had actually burned the CD for me. I love Jet Society. I listened to it, upon my return home, and it passes with flying colors. Brazilian Samba, Bossa Nova, Funk Samba. It's great! My favorite genre of music. Forget familiarizing yourselves with your seafood monger or your neighborhood butcher... get to know your local booze dealer! You may end up with a great CD to add to your collection. Brother Omi, check this one out, if you can get your hands on it!

March 29, 2005

I don't know, stuff....

I have nothing major to report. I had a great weekend. The Notorious C.A.T. came down for an impromptu visit. She got in at about 8ish Friday night with her friend/hairdresser, Shelly. We went out to Pastis Bistro for some jazz, wine, and French-American fare, then we headed over to Agave Grill across the way for some good Mexican beer. Unfortunately, Saturday I had to work but afterward, Cat and I went to this little Mexican restaurant closeby called Monte Alban. The place is small and unassuming, but they have some wicked Mexican food. I had Tilapia (whole with the head and all) friend with garlic (mmmmmm) which came with a side of salad and rice. Cat had some sort of combo meal that included steak and heavily seasoned shrimp which came with rice and black beans. We both had Negro Modelo beer (I am not a beer fan, but I love that stuff). Sunday was pretty lowkey. I made Easter brunch- (salmon eggs, toast, cheese w/ sesame crackers, crudite drizzled with sweetened balsamic (which I thickened and sweetened myself), and Chardonnay)- and watched Showgirls (a classic) repeatedly... well at least until we got some of the dance moves and dialogue down (tee hee). I love that movie. Later we headed over to my mom's house for more grub, then later on that evening we went to a local bar and had a beer. Great weekend I had. Now let's talk about the Easter brunch I made... so painstaking and delicious. Made with lots of care. See why I'd make such a great girlfriend? I make pretty looking and tasting food courtesy of the Food Network's heroines. I'm not a nag, I'm witty as all hell, smart, dead sexy... as is Cat (she needs love and sex too)- C'mon guys. Now that I have my desperate plea for a date out of the way I will go back to my Red Bull... it actually tastes a lot different without the vodka.

March 22, 2005

Sundance- part deux

Finally, Spring has sprung. My mood is improving every minute! I was getting sick to death of all of this damn snow. There is hardly anything to do during the harsh Winter months other than drink and lament about how dry one's sex life has become. I swear, my one surviving "toy" is starting to do the sputtering buzz of death. Kind of like the low, droning sound a dying bee makes when it's desperately trying to escape the start of fall/winter. In any event I am finally going to post the conclusion of my Sundance Film Festival trip. Cat has been harping on me to do it, because she's anxious for me to relay how fucked up we got and the cool celebrity parties we got invited to. She's right. I need to post this information before it dissipates from my memory. New pics will soon follow when I download them off of my digital camera. If you're reading this blog, feel free to check out some of the pics that're posted in the archived journal entries. So, in the meantime... here it goes... folie a deux... So as far as I can recollect, the next day, Cat and I mapped out our Sundance plan: The movies we were going to watch, where to catch the free public transportation that was provided (I'm sure the locals took FULL advantage of this Sundance perk), what to do once we got into downtown Park City etc. Our first full day of the Sundance experience. I must say, although there was snow on the ground, the weather was beautiful the whole four days we were there. It was bright and pretty mild. Cat and I found our way to the box office, to purchase the day's tickets. I don't remember what movies we were buying for, but we got there fairly early. The line was extremely long! We waited in line for like two hours! Only to finally get in the box office doors to stand in yet ANOTHER line. We met some pretty interesting people, including two fellow Black girls from L.A. (one was a producer and one a fledgling actress) who had a film short in the festival. I thought it odd that they had to wait in line to buy tickets since they were part of the festival. I guess since they didn't have any clout... FLEDGLING just wasn't good enough, so they got no free vouchers. That's bullshit. Hollywood nobodysomebodies, i.e. Paris Hilton, had nothing to do with the festival and were getting perks left and right. They could've given some of the newer filmmakers at least one or two perks. Anyway, we stood in line for far too long. It was starting to get reaaal old real quick. I think we wasted a lot of valuable time standing in these ridiculous lines. We could've seen two movies by then. We finally get up to the box office desk (at like noon!) and purchased our tickets for the day. The suck part is we couldn't even buy tickets ahead of time for the next day unless it was for the first showing! This meant we had to get up early and go back to the B.O. to do this waiting shit all over again! I believe we purchase tickets for this arthouse film (fancyspeak for movie porn) called "9 Songs" directed by Michael Winterbottom and for umm... well shit, I don't remember, some other good movie. So we thought we were all set to go. We were to see 9 Songs at midnight that late evening. I will get to why thing snowballed out of control later. So after we tired of playing the line waiting game, we decided to catch a bus back to our lodge to make lunch. Cat and I spied James Woods walking down the street, saturated in a whole crowd of people. He looked super old. We sort of shrugged the celeb sighting off and continued to make our way down the crowded street. By the way, there were people from all over... mostly from L.A. though. It was then that I spied a liquor store! Now that sighting surpassed seeing James Woods doing the celeb saunter down the way. Cat and I made our way in and bought some few bottles of wine and some lemoncello. Stoked, we made our way back to the apartment to eat, drink, and then chart our next move. I believe when we went back out, we decided to get dinner (I don't recall, too much time has passed), or we went to a bar. I think we went to a bar. Anyway, we went into some hodunk bar where one of us had to pay a damn SPONSORSHIP fee of $5.00 (Utah law) to drink. That was our first and last foray into any local bars. Besides, we had booze back at the lodge. Anyway, we had a couple of drinks at this bar (where there was no smoking ban, apparently because people were lighting up left and right). The second bartendress who waited on us happened to be a Connecticut native, so we were excited, as she was. She said she was attending school out in Utah and was anxious to finish up so she could get back east. Needless to say, she gave us some lethal drink (I don't even remember the name of it, but it was some variation on the Long Island iced tea) in a rather large glass. After downing those drinks- (keep in mind we drank earlier that afternoon), we ventured out. We had at least another 2 hours until 9 Songs. (We're such perverts). Now, the kamikaze of booze hit Cat first. ... Lemme explain... Cat insisted on going into some cheesy shop that sold souvenirs, notwithstanding the fact that we'd already made our purchases for friends and family earlier that day at the Sundance Film Festival store. So we go into this shop and Cat is wastoid! She starts picking up all this shit and I'm trying to discourage her from buying any additional garbage and from wasting anymore money. The woman who worked there could clearly see that Cat was piss-faced and tried to take full advantage of that fact. She kept picking up all of these stupid looking and rather expensive t-shirts for Cat to buy, until I told her to beat it. She left us alone... reluctantly. Then, Cat proceeds to pick up a tinny-tiny t-shirt and says that she's going to purchase that for one of her co-workers. I said, "Cat, that's a toddler's shirt!" and she slurred, "No, I think Julie can fit this, she's really small." We went back and forth a couple more times, then I finally yanked the t-shirt out of Cat's hand and had to SHOW her the size was a 4T as in 4TODDLER. Aye-yi-yi. Wait, it gets better. So then Cat decides to buy a couple more t-shirts any-damn-way, and then she bought like 3 clear bubble rings, one of which I took and kept for myself... it was cute. The cashier mentioned that they were giving away free energy bars. I graciously took one... Cat, in all her drunken glory, proceeded to pick up the REST of the bars and threw them in the bag rather aggressively. The cashier looked taken aback, but said nothing. We still had a little more than and hour to kill, so we found our way into an internet cafe. I ordered an espresso and Cat goes, rather loudly... "I think I'll have an earl greyer! YES an earl greyer sounds great! yeah, I want the earl greyer!" I wanted to cold cock her right where she stood. So then we pay for our drinks and our 'net time and get our passwords. I tell Cat, "I'm going to the bathroom, don't do anything stupid" and when I come out, she's already caused a scene. She was so drunk, she didn't know how to log in the password and insisted that something was wrong with the computer. The guy who worked there tried to help her, and I sat there shaking my head. I finally explained to her that she had to TYPE the password in if she was going to get anywhere. Geez! Um, Cat, Drunk much? Needless to say, it was shaping up to be a very interesting night. After we'd logged off of the internet, I told Cat I was going to go use the bathroom again. Much to my horror, she started yelling out "WHERE ARE YOU GOING??? I NEED YOU HERE! TIFFANI, WHERE ARE YOU GOING!! I NEED YOU! " I walked to the bathroom stiffly ignoring Cat's drunken outburst. Outside and in a cab, we were on our way to go see "9 songs." We get to the theatre, excited and pumped to see the latest trend in non-simulated sex only to be told by the guy at the door that the movie wasn't being shown at that theatre! He also told me, in a dismissive tone, that my ticket had the wrong information on it while Cat's had the correct info. Upon further inspection, I saw that my ticket said the movie was to be shown at 9pm the next day at that theatre, while Cat's said midnight at a different theatre! Apparently (according to Cat) the fucktard at the box office told her that it didn't matter that our tickets had two separate days on it, that it'd still count. After being dismissed and shrugged off by the ticket taker, I lost it. Suddenly, Cat sobered up and apparently, according to her, I threw the worse drunken diva fit ever. I remember telling the guy that that was totally unacceptable, but that pretty much all I remembered. Combine a lethal alcoholic drink and white-hot rage and it's over. Cat says that I said, rather aggressively, "I'M ABOUT TO THROW A BITCH FIT! I PAID FOR MY TICKET AND EXPECT BETTER SERVICE BLAH BLAH BLAH" much to everyone's (yes folks, there were onlookers) surprise. Cat also says that some woman offered to trade me my ticket for the ticket she had for some boring movie, and I said, "I don't WANT your ticket! WE are going to see 9 Songs and that's final!" And the woman looked a little shocked and initimidated. Cat also says that the doorman quickly went from dismissive to rather helpful and empathetic after my tirade. I was also told that I threatened never to return to Sundance ever AGAIN before storming off. All I can say is, the next day, after Cat relayed how I acted (much, TOO MUCH, to her amusement) I was shocked, embarrassed, and a little skeptical. So the next morning, we went out to the box office to get our situation rectified. One of the coordinators was a little peeved by the mistake and more or less said the guy who sold us the bum tickets was a moron. She said that I'd get a voucher at some other box office, and I was able to relax, finally. After watching an excellent French film called, "Lila Says" Cat and I hightailed it to the B.O. to get my free voucher. Luckily the line wasn't as long. 9 songs was sold out! But wait, there was hope. The guy at the ticket counter put me on a waiting list and gave me a voucher for a free ticket. I was little bummed, because I didn't want to wait in yet ANOTHER f'ng line. He told us that if we went early enough, the chances of us getting a ticket was high. He told us that there were at least 30 tickets left for people waiting on line. Afterwards, still enroute to find some lunch, Cat and I discussed my outburst somemore. I thought she was exaggerating events for effect, until some middle-aged woman in a fur coat stopped us and then asked, "Hi, did you get your ticket situation settled?" She then put her hand on my arm and said in a rather concerned voice, "I hope you decide to come back to Sundance." I was soooo embarrassed. My whole face felt hot. Cat was right! I did throw a bitch fit, just liked I'd threatened to do in my drunken rage. I thanked the woman and told her I'd been drinking and was tired and that I normally don't act that way. She shook her head as if she understood and walked off. Yikes. I'm still embarrassed about that episode til this day. All in all, Sundance was a great experience and I look forward to going again, perhaps next year. We got invited to a Queer Brunch, where we were saturated in gay and lesbian industry heavyhitters. We met some great people, we saw some great movies, and we even got invited to Kevin Bacon's party, where we met this cute gay couple. One was a director who worked at HBO and his boyfriend was a production designer. Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick are very nice, by the way. Anyway, this couple sort of adopted us and took us to yet ANOTHER industry party that was thrown by a friend of theirs. We hobnobbed with more celebrities. Three Apprentice 2 contestants just happened to be standing in front of us by the way, while we were waiting in line to go in. Bradford, I think Kevin, and one of the blond chicks... Jennifer I believe. Celeb stylist, Phillip Bloch scooched by us as did Benjamin McKenzie of the O.C. as they were leaving the party. Once inside, we saw that Jane's Addiction lead singer, Perry Farrell was the DJ and he was really good, I must say. Yes, I will forever hold fond memories of Sundance, inspite of my temper tantrum. While it is indeed a breathtaking sight, I would not go to Utah for any other reason than Sundance. It's no place for an epicurean individual like myself.

February 28, 2005

Preemptory Post

Well, I figured I'd preempt the second part of my Sundance post to briefly touch on some other things. I am dying to download pics to accompany the Sundance posts, so this is another reason why I'm holding off posting the more titillating half of my Sundance adventure. Things have just been so hectic and busy, I haven't had the opportunity to get ANY pics downloaded on here. They are coming, however... soon. Nothing really new to report. I'm still single and not really looking, just hoping. It is so tempting to post another profile on some of these "dating" or "HOOKUP" sites- (because let's be realistic, that's what they really are... people looking to hook up and screw and then disappear into the abyss)- but then I remember the two or three bad and downright bizarro experiences I've had, and I think better of it. I think my time will come and it will be an unexpected encounter. I don't want to go out man-hunting for any old body. I have to keep repeating this mantra: "sex isn't everything, sex isn't everything, sex.... isn't... every... thing..." Okay, got it. Speaking of sex, I just love that sex call in show that comes on Oxygen late at night... with the freak-a-leek old lady, Dr. Sue Johanson, dispensing sex tips to horny callers. Nothing like seeing a 70ish year old looking woman demonstrate with dolls and hand gestures how to fuck and give proper blow jobs. I love it! So hot! Dr. Sue makes Dr. Ruth look mild in comparison. She gives commentary and writes articles on important sexual matters like the following, from her official website, regarding anal sex. "This is a very controversial and a very sensitive, even taboo, topic amongst many mature people, and I would not want to offend, but anal sex is also high risk behavior and we have an obligation to provide accurate information so younger people can make an informed decision. First - anatomy. At the lower end of the bowel, there are two distinct circular bands of muscles, sphincters, one is located about an 1 ½" above the other. These clamp down tight to prevent the passage of feces or gas. The mucous membrane lining of the rectum is not as heavy as the lining of the vagina, so it can tear quite easily and it does not heal as quickly as the vagina. Because feces, loaded with bacteria, are passing by, any tear is vulnerable to infection. The vigorous thrusting that may occur during anal intercourse can tear the mucous membrane. This can develop into an anal abscess that can become infected ..." Ouch. Vigorous thrusting? I'll just stick to the usual vaginal insertion for now, and leave the buggery to the porn professional. Bless their buggering hearts. On a completely different note. I loved how multicultural the Oscar nominees were last night. I think a lot of worthy people were nominated for once. I, of course, did not watch the whole boring spectacle. I only flipped to the more interesting parts: Chris Rock's schtick, Beyonce performing, and Jamie Foxx accepting his award (with a few other interesting things in-between) The gowns were impeccable, not very many fashion faux pas(es). I am, however, t.o.ed that Martin Scorsese got shut out AGAIN! Oh well... that's the academyboard for you. Until next time... adieu

January 31, 2005

Sundance Film Festival 2005 - Part One

Ahh, so my time at this year's Sundance Film Festival has come and gone. Oh, the memories... the memories (insert sigh). Well, what can I say, my first festival was wicked. I will spare the details of my flight... i.e. the overwhelming smell of residual flatulence, the pains of sitting in the aisle seat, wedgies in my face, a grandma who smelled of baby doo-doo, wicked gas pains, and unpleasantries of the like. I will hop right into the meat of the matter... Pictures will soon follow, at some point... Well, after two excruciating layovers in Cleveland and Texas respectively, I finally arrive in Salt Lake City. It is here that I meet up with The Notorious C.A.T. decked out in her new, snow white D.K.N.Y. long, goose-down coat, with a hood trimmed in fur... well, what can I say, the coat was bad. So yeah, we meet up and get squared away with our shuttle business. Cat tells me that Roger Ebert was on her flight... she passed by him in first class on her way to coach (tee hee). Celeb sighting numero uno. She tells me that during one of her layovers (in Chicago I believe) some guy slips Rog. some package that contains a body of his work and says how he's an up and coming journalist. She says that Rog. looks at the package and mumbles, "What's this?" as he stares at C.A.T. for answers. Cat merely shrugs her way past Roger, smirking in earnest. So Cat goes to check-in about the shuttle and I go retrieve my luggage from baggage claim... I swear that I see a haggard looking Laura Linney sans make-up looking for her luggage to make the rounds. I am not 110% sure that it was Laura but my heart tells me it was. If it was her, then she looks sorta whupped w/out her stage makeup, if it wasn't her... then I stand corrected Laura. So we get squared away and wait for our shuttle to pick us up and take us to the Copperbottom Inn, where we're staying. Our van picks us up and it's starting to fill up with other passengers. Cat says she needs to go to the ATM machine and she rushes back into the airport. I score a seat in the back and try to save a spot for her, to no avail. I am chagrined when too young women around my age squeeze in next to me. Which sucks, because apparently they'll be the last ones to get off. I'm tempted to just move but I say forget it. I am tired and I have a wicked gas bubble percolating in my left side and up my back. Anyway, Cat hurries back to the van and sits in front of me, next to a young, pleasant Canadian woman, whose Italian boyfriend (seated up front) is a film producer looking to purchase some films at the festival. During the ride Cat and the woman strike up a conversation with each other. There're also two other passengers in addition to myself, Cat, the two chicks next to me, the Canadian woman, and her boyfriend, and of course the driver. Now all is quiet in the van until the bitches next to me (from L.A. no doubt) start going on some disruptive tirade on their cell phones about Liz Claiborne jeans and their jobs being on the line and shit of the like. It's almost like they were acting brash on purpose, trying to appear more important than they actually were. All was tranquil during this hour long van ride 'til they started mouthing off to one another name dropping and yapping obnoxiously on their cell phones... and if that weren't enough, they were so rude to the driver. One of the chicks (she looked sort of mannish in the face) commented to her boyfriend on the phone... "Yeah, they said they'd have a car for us, but I thought it was gonna be a cab or a limo not a van..." blahblahblah... "and they have to drop like 10 other people off at their hotels and we're last to be dropped off..." blah blah blah I just wanted to say, "shuuut the fuck up, PLEASE" I think everyone was probably thinking the same thing. Then she and her friend would go on the same obnoxious tirade about their jobs or whatever professional mishap they were having, then they would sigh heavily over and over again at the ride, then one of them would remark, "This is gonna take forever... SIGH!" When one of the passengers would get dropped off. Having those two wenches in the van seemed to increase the duration of the ride... Then one would get on the phone and be like, "Hi, so and so, this is Kristin from Lucky magazine..." or "Hi, such and such, this is Lauren from William Morris" Man, I was doing some heavy eye rolling, because these two turdish biatches were pissing me off with their obnoxious, behaviour. Then the driver, juuust to be certain was going around the van, asking the remaining passengers where they were staying to make sure his itinerary was right... Then he gets to bitch 1 and 2... instead of simply answering the question, one looks at the other and shrugs as if she wants to know why the driver is talking to her because she is just soooo important, and then she goes, "Um, we're placed pressed." The driver is all, "Um, okay, but I want to know where your hotel is, because that way I will know if you need to check in or if they'll have a key for you, because I saw a lot of press there, and they already had keys waiting for you... so this is all I want to know." Point, blank, period. One of the chicks then goes, "Oh, they must be from New Jersey, they're probably from Cosa Bella, We're from Lucky" Obviously these bitches don't know how to answer a simple question, because they're too busy trying to appear self important. Luckily our stop is next in line! Anyway, so we get finally get to what I think is a simple hotel room.... and to our surprised, it's a fully furnished, fully stocked APARTMENT! It looked just like my old apartment. It had a kitchen, a large fridge, stove, microwave, cups, plates, utensils, oven, couch, chairs, patio, fireplace, bedroom, two bathrooms... etc. This is by far, one of the nicest places I've ever stayed in! We were floored! (pics of the Copperbottom will soon follow as well). After we got our bearings and relaxed a bit... we mapped out a plan as to what movies we were going to go see etc etc. Then decided to go grocery shopping, since we had a crib with all of the amenities. We then headed to the in-house restaurant, Chez Betty for some fancy French-American fare. The waitstaff was extremely accommodating, especially when they learned we were from the East Coast and not L.A. tee hee. They even gave us some complimentary caviar and Crème Fraiche atop a thin, crisp, cracker... ahhh, the life... And this is only the first night of our arrival. Look out for part two... Where Tiff and the Notorious C.A.T. get wasted... Cat asks for an "Earl Greyer... repeatedly" and yells out that she "Needs Me!" in a netcafe and then Tiff throws a "Bitch Fit" when we get turned away from an arthouse film called 9 Songs.

January 05, 2005

New Year's Eve... The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Well, happy New Year. 2004 has come and gone. Nothing extraordinary, just lots of political mayhem, a year chock full of stupid celebrity missteps (narcissistic, attention starved jerks... who cares), war(everyone cares), politics (cares), and Paris Hilton(who gives a flying fuck, now that's hot bitch). I would like to take this moment to recongize my deceased hamster, by the way. Snowbell was loved. I will miss her. She didn't make it to this New Year unfortunately. Dying last Thursday... R.I.P. Snowbell. Now, on to the drunken debauchery. I spent New Year's Eve in Boston, Mass. Somerville to be exact... visiting the Notorious C.A.T. The bus was freakin' PIZACKED, and you know what a packed bus means... yes, weird B.O. Some woman needed to get to Worcester and there weren't enough seats on the bus. They had another bus on hand, but unfortunately it was stopping in Worcester, and was enroute to Springfield before reaching Boston. I willingly... okay- reluctantly at first... gave up my seat, agreeing to transfer in Springfield, which would have added an additional 30 minutes to my trip. Not a huge deal. Besides, the bus people made it worth my while by giving me a free ticket to Boston to use anytime I want, they were so grateful. They thanked me enough so that I wasn't annoyed that Worcester Bitch didn't bother to. Needless to say, the Boston/Springfield bus had a lot less people on it and I had a seat to myself, so I was pleased. So I get to Boston... Cat calls me and tells me that she will be half an hour late picking me up for some reason or other, so I wait in the bus station an additional 30 minutes... sitting next to some irritating bitch who complained on her cell phone to any and all who'd listen, and loudly too, that her bus broke down and that she was eating dinner because she was sooo starved. Newsflash annoying cell phone people, keep your fucking conversations to yourselves. The general populace could give a rat's ass. Anyway, so Cat shows up, we head out to the subway and the moment we stepped into her apartment, we started drinking. I believe the conversation Cat and I had prior to my visit went a little something like this... Cat: Dude, I wanna get trashed. I have like 7 bottles of wine and some Perseco (or whatever champagne she said she had). We will get soo trashed. Me: Sweet! I can't wait! Let me add that I also brought a bottle of sparkling wine... some French Chardonnay to heap on to the planned drunken shenanigans. This is what we started with. We ate a pizza, we drank like two bottles of wine in addition to the Fizzy stuff, we freshened up, and we went out. We went to a place in Somerville called, Sabor... we drank some more. We went to a hip bar/restaurant called The Enormous Room I don't know too much about the food, as we went there to drink, you see. It is here, in is this nondescript place that Cat and I lost our equilibrium. We drank and drank and drank. Our barmaiden/waitress... tall and clad in all black with fishnet stockings and thick heeled calf boots liked us enough to heap a couple of free drinks "oh her" onto the damage that was already done. We drank and we drank. Everything started to become a haze in this dark room full of hipsters and a couple of tools. We drank, I talked animatedly to the point where my large hoop earring fell off. And this gave some unattractive dude with receding hair the encouragement he needed to slide over and harrass Cat the whole night. ... tee hee. Then two other annoying guys, who wouldn't fuck off just kept stalking us the whole evening. We kept getting up and waiting it out by the bathrooms, drinking more since the bar was on the way, but there they continued to sit. They gave up... we went back to our spots, they came back, and so the night continued on like this. This horrible dance of us trying to elude them and them not going away! Guys, get a clue. If a girl doesn't like you, move the fuck on, there're tons of others to choose from. GOSH! Anyway, we'd escape tools 1 and 2 only to run into Receding Hair Dude. Ay yi yi. By that point, Cat and I were smashed. The only thing I remember after that is coming out of the bathroom, and Fishnetted Barmaid telling me "Your friend is downstairs, the manager is taking care of her, she'll be fine." I'm like "huh, wha'?" I was confused, I was drunk, I was in a purple haze. I remember Cat coming up from the depth of this Enormous Room and the waitress rubbing her back in a soothing way... I remember Cat slurring that she wanted the bill and not being able to stand up straight enough to get her card, so I did it for her... I remember the waitress saying "No no no" and me saying, "Oh yes yes yes, and take 15% for yourself" before sending her off... I remember Cat scribbling her name on the receipt... the waitress giving me some carbonated water to hold for Cat before the two of us stumbled over to find the 2 tools STILL fucking sitting there waiting and hoping to hook up. By then we were far gone and just ignored the two jerks. Tool 1 on Cat's right had the nerve to ask me, "Does she not want to talk to me?" I said, '"Man, fuck off we're wasted." Yet there they sat. I remember Receding hair looming over us before I flipped him the bird and he skulked off... and lastly I remember Fishnets prying our fingers open and pushing glasses of champagne in our hands... and hulking bodies yelling 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!!! Before I sorta blacked out. Then we were outside and in a cab. This is all I remember folks. Cat claims I yelled at the cabdriver because he was trying to take advantage of us. I don't remember. I can, however, vouch for the fact that I woke up, fully clothed, on the floor. I sat up, smacked a couple of times due to the grainy taste in my mouth, peeled myself off of the floor and stumbled to the kitchen for water... I saw my old Gap coat in the sink, wondered why it was there, and saw vomit on it!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHohhhhhmyGODDESS. I didn't have vomit on my clothes, so Cat and I determined it was her vomit. fuck fuck fuck. SO glad I don't remember being hurled on. There was a large vomit stain on the floor (two feet away from my foot, where I was laying), also courtesy of Cat. Apparently one of us had tried to scrub it up (probably me), and left the rag in the midst of the bile before passing out. I have never ever been this trashed in my whole entire life... it was wicked! Cat and I went for brunch and tried to piece together the previous night's events. To no avail, really. Next time found us behaving ourselves and going to Wally's Jazz Cafe. Cat, her friend and co-worker Julie and I. We had a good time, stuck to a couple of drinks and enjoyed a stellar jazz band. Love this place. This is a REAL jazz joop joint and I encourage anybody reading this blog to go there upon visiting Boston, Mass. Sunday was pretty mellow. Cat went to get electrolysis for her non-existent beard, her brother hung out with us, we went to this cafe called, Ciao Bella and had some coffee and in-between all this drunken mayhem we managed to watch Napolean Dynamite and some sick sick ass French Film called "Twentynine Palms" ...um, pass on this fucking movie folks.... in addition to another weird French import called, "The Life of Jesus" which has absolutely nothing to do with the man upstairs. Sooo, fortunately for me, I had Monday off, and took a couple of days to detox. It's been green tea and water since this wild New Year's weekend! Welcome 2005... 2004, I never knew ya!

December 13, 2004

December... hurry up and get lost already..

I cannot WAIT for Chrismus to come and go. I really don't enjoy most major holidays therefore, I refuse to celebrate them. Chrismus is at the top of that list. Yes, I enjoy going to my mother's house and spending time with my family... gorging myself on cookies and dinner... dinner, cookies and other delectable desserts. It's the rampant consumerism that gets on my nerves. People tend to be at their meanest, their most conniving bitchiest during this time of year... downright rude. One would thing that the holidays would encourage people to be on their best behavior. In any event, I feel like it doesn't, so I avoid it altogether. I really could care less whether or not someone gives me a gift or not. I don't feel comfortable making a list of things that people SHOULD buy for me. It's just, awkward. Usually if I see something I think someone would like, I will pick it up for them. That selfless, considerate way of being is something I try to put into practice everyday... not annually. Plus I want Chrismus to hurry up so that I can drink a lot on New Year's Eve, 'nuff said. And fuck the resolutions. Why wait once a YEAR to better your lives when people should aspire to do that everyday. No one keeps their resolutions anyway. I resolve to drink massive amounts of champagne. So there. January 1st will also mark the official countdown to my attending the Sundance Film Festival! I look sooo forward to that trip. Moving on to a completely different topic, I believe that in an earlier post, I said that I was addicted to America's Next Top Model. Well now it's down to the final three and I want model wannabe, Ya-Ya to die a slow death. What a bitch! Uppity c--t with a major superiority complex. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE vote her ass off. Anyone who watches this show knows exactly who and what I'm talking about. A couple of episodes ago, Tyra suggested that Ya-Ya should go to the nearest bakery in Tokyo (that's where they are now) and get a piece of humble pie... because she is such a snot. Anyway, I have nothing else really to rant about. OH, I must add that the ubiquitous staff holiday party turned out to be lots of fun, and I'm glad I decided to go.

December 06, 2004

Cioccolata

I just had two pieces of chocolate a minute or so ago, here at my desk at work. I am feeling mighty damn good about that. I find that chocolate is difficult to come by when you're at work. All you can really do is sit there at your desk in some weird post-crack addiction state, wishing like hell you could score a piece... so this is... was... a real treat. I'm content for the moment. I don't know which is more satisfying really... sex or chocolate. Well, chocolate leaves a nice aftertaste, and you don't feel the need to gargle with mouthwash afterward (and this is all I am going to say... ). So I guess chocolate is the most satisfying. I consider myself to be quite epicurean, so I suppose I would know. Anyway, this past Thursday, at work, was something else. I was glad for it to be over and done with. I was off this past Friday and Saturday, so I got to catch my breath and ponder that day's events. Some of the hellacious things that transpired, included a female educator who came in with a group of young students for a tour trying to hit on me (I'm 110% sure of it). She kept calling me "baby" and felt the need to show me some book she had on her person, about gender and sexuality. (yikes). Suggesting that I should read it. I thought it was a little odd. She was cute, don't get me wrong, but I don't ever recall telling her or anybody else for that matter, that I was a lesbian. Also, a male acquaintance I'd been intimate with popped up out of no-effing-where at my job. My stomach dropped a little and I was, indeed, shocked... especially since he lives in a different STATE, which is like 3 hours away. He claimed he was in town for work related reasons... either way you cut it, I cannot believe he showed up at my damn job. It is a complicated situation, and I wont get into it, but I was a little annoyed. I just pretended that I didn't know him, because I didn't want there to be a scene here at my work. People here are nosey jerks and I am a very private person (notwithstanding this very PUBLIC online journal). He said he had been calling and e-mailing me and that he wanted to catch a "glimpse" of me, so decided to pop by my job... unexpectedly. He said "Judging from the look on your face, I don't think this was a good idea." Um, yah think? The penis-having gender never ceases to amaze me. One minute they are all, "I don't want to get serious, I just need physical contact" and then when you honor that, they turn and start catching feelings and haranguing you to see them repeatedly. I think the simple fact that I refuse to sweat ANY MAN or ANY BODY may be a blow to their egos. If some guy tells me he's only interested in making-out or having sex and I'm feeling the same way, then I will simply say, "sounds good to me, let's go" and then we proceed in our adagio dance and I move the "F" on, hoping he'll do the same, particulary since he's the smartass who told younot to look for anything more. I can beone of the most indifferent people. If some guy starts off our initial meeting saying he's only interested in one thing, then I immediately shut down my "feelings mode" and go into my "stone-cold fox mode." ... This means we've already established how far our intimate encounter will go, so don't come sniffing around again wanting to "catch a glimpse" of me... and don't keep calling my cell and home phone numbers. Anyway, this blog entry has caused me to rip open the new M Azing (M&M) chocolate bar. (I went on a little shopping excursion today during lunch and wound up with a few pieces of chocolate tee hee.) This chocolate bar is pretty-good, I need to wrap this entry up.

September 11, 2004

Fais-moi une pipe

So... Where to start? Labor Day weekend was pretty productive. Cat (mon meilleur ami) came down from Somerville Friday evening and stayed through Tuesday morning. A blast was had by both. Of course we drank our way through Labor Day weekend. We went to Pastis to listen to some live jazz and to meet up with our cool-as-an-ocean-breeze friend Ruth... who teaches at Miss Porter's School and who is about to get married. We had a couple of drinks and caught up on some gossip and shit. It rocked, but of course before heading on down to Pastis at 9pm, Cat and I "warmed up" with some red wine. Afterwards, Cat and I sauntered on back to my apartment where we talked some more shit, and I think we watched a movie. Nothing huge to report. Saturday, unfortunately, I had to work. I could not get that fucking day off... god blessed that sucked! In any event, I woke Cat up early and begged her to come down to work with me... where I made her do some stuff. I'm assuming this did not bode well with her, because later on that afternoon, Your Skinniness dryly said, "I'm going for a walk"... whaateverrrr. hahaha. Anyway, the work day finally over and done with, we walked down in the sultry heat to Ichiban, my favorite Japanese & Korean combo restaurant. It's better to order from the "Korean" portion of the menu, because you get hella cool appetizers for free to start. Yummy little platters of kimchi, seaweed salad, fishcake and aperitifs of the like. We also decided to get a Sake Martini, at the waiter's suggestion.'Twas yummy... what can I say. Full and sated, we went back to my apartment to chart our next move... I think we went out drinking somewhere else or we may've watched some dvds... I can't recall, but it was fun, as was Sunday, because I actually did not have to work. I think we went to um... shit, I don't remember WHAT the hell we did on Sunday, dvds I think. Monday the small city was fucking dead and virtually every venue was closed! After roaming around angry and confused, we opted to go to one of the FEW places that was open, this Restaurant/bar called Red Plate. Seated and happy to be somewhere, Cat and I decided to start with some beers... I had a Guinness and Cat had a Magic Hat I believe. After consuming our libations, we decided to get a little something to eat... Cat had a rather large slice of Pepperoni Pizza and I believe I had a small cup of cheese tortellini soup w/ a side of Vanilla Creme Brulee. Creme Brulee is my absolute favorite dessert. The intensely attractive Asian waiter asked me if I wanted the soup and dessert together ... I said "yes"... but I'm guessing he decided I shouldn't, because he didn't bring me my damn creme brulee until AFTER I had consumed my soup. Afterward, we had another drink... I, a glass of red wine and Cat another beer. We became preoccupied with this one woman who was seated at the bar. She kept on abandoning her full glass of red wine. It always concerns me when I think someone's about to blow w/out having finished their drink. Much to my relief... she came back, but she kept on leaving. She became even more trusting, and popped up and outside again... this time leaving her damn PURSE neglected and alone, on the bar. Red Plate had a smattering of people initially, but then it started to fill up, so this probably wasn't a wise idea on her part. After having consumed our small meals, Slim and I decided to park it outside. The humidity was less harsher than Saturday's and it was quite pleasant out. Of course we watched dudes passing by and shit... we gave constructive criticism on their outfits and what have you... I assure you... it was CONSTRUCTIVE. Anyway, Cat was one drink behind me... I had already consumed like 2 or three already. I think I was like on my second glass of wine or something and I needed her to catch up. Seated two tables away from us was a bawdy trio... two chicks and a guy (about college age.) The girls were fucking three sheets to the wind already. It took them a decade and an additional year to figure out how to divide the $124.00 tab they'd racked up... a good bulk of that cash probably went towards drinks. I was jealous... I was only tipsy and not feeling bawdy at all. At this point, Cat was in the restroom. I overheard one of the girls saying she wanted a shot of Swedish Fish. Just as Cat came out of the rest room, Hot Instense Waiter guy came out balancing the three shots in his hands. We were definitely curious... so we asked him what kind of shots they were... He said, "Swedish Fish" as in the gummy candied delights. I think this is the idea the drink was trying to convey. I asked him if the drink was exclusive to Red Plate... and he said no, that most bartenders in the area and beyond should know how to make it. He asked us if we wanted to try one... I said no, because I was already 1 or 2 drinks ahead of Cat... she said yes... Hottie brought out the second one for free anyway! He said it wasn't good for a person to drink a shot alone. The Swedish Fish was good... I was sold... this is my new favorite shot... 'nuff said. Walking along in the late afternoon... (we were both tipsy at this point) we were cruising for some more places to pop a squat in, on our way to see if this one Italian restaurant and bar were open, I couldn't help but notice a rather portly couple parked and going at it in a tan jeep. I wanted to be CERTAIN that I was seeing correctly... so I put my dark shades on and Cat and I decided to investigate... I mean, we had to be sure we were seeing what we were seeing... and after circling the block again... yes... we were seeing what we were seeing. I mean, they were getting hot and heeeavvvy! The guy was pawing at the woman's pants and all. Interesting. I wanted to stay and watch, but Cat said it probably wasn't such a good idea. Hey, it's not like they would've noticed or anything. Anyhoo... On the way back to my apartment... we happened upon what's called, "Pig's Eye Pub" They Looked open, so we moseyed on up. There was less than a handful of people inside... some people were on the patio... in any event, they were offering $2.00 drafts! This included everything on tap... not the piss water either... they had BlueMoon, Magic Hat, and even Guinness... so needless to say, we sat at the bar, had a few beers, cracked some peanuts, and then somewhere in-between, a shot of Swedish Fish. I couldn't help but note that the shot glasses were bigger. "We don't fuck around in here!" was how the bartender responded. Had to toast and slam to that! He also saw my peanut shells daintily piled on a napkin... he said, "Hey, just throw those shells on the floor. You know why? Because I don't have to clean them up." smirk smirk. Cat and I shrugged and then dumped the shit on the floor. Oh what a great night. Shortly thereafter, the place started to fill up. After my third bathroom break, I came back to find some sack-wrangler sitting in my damn seat! It's like, HELLO ASSHOLE... didn't you see my BEER sitting there. Cat moved it, and gave the guy the cold shoulder by calling her bro on her cell. He didn't like this, so he slammed his beer and left... whoo hooo! good. Soooo, after this foray, Cat and I stumbled home into the night, happy and full of drink. $2.00 drafts... still can't believe it. By the way, I had this strange, strange dream the other night about some phantom squirrel who kept on coming into my apartment and tormenting me. I wrote it down in my dream journal and will transcribe it here onto my blog. I have some fucking bizzarro dreams. Not surprising if you know me real well. By the way, I talked about the guy "S" that Cat was smitten with during her last visit and who appeared to be smitten with her... well that shit is dead in the water. I cannot stand wishy washy people who bullshit you into thinking they're interested. Anyway, his loss. Throw him in a pile with the rest of the Retardation Nation. Baise Toi, man! Baise Toi. Speaking of French... learned a cool new French phrase. It blows "Voulez vous coucher avec mois" right outta the water... It's "Fais-moi une pipe!" Gimmie a blow job! Love it. Gotta love those dirty little "arthouse" french films. They're also a good learning tool. I know I've learned some really significant French phrases. ciao! P.S. I remember what we did Sunday evening. We went across the street to this restaurant/bar called "Hot Tomatos" and had drinks. Mine was wicked! I was really tall and was almost like parfait or something... everyone was sooo jealous. A huge hush fell on the bar as the bartendress handed me my pretty drink. It looked like one of those Bomb ice pops you get at the ice cream truck... where the top is red, the middle is white and the bottom is blue. It was good! Somewhere in-between I had a chocolate martini or something. ...

August 18, 2004

Welcome to movie phone

Sooo... This past weekend has been a very productive and alcohol laden one. I celebrated my birthday this past Sunday, so by today's standards I am officially over-the-hill... at a whopping 27 years of age! Hell, MF'n yeah! Despite my old-ness, I must say I am stoked and can't wait to reach the 30 years mark. My best friend (whose birthday is three days after mine, making Wednesday her official day) came down from Somerville, Mass to help me bumrush this smallish New England city. We had a blast. Cat is 1 year younger than me so is more immature and weird by default (tee hee... personal dig, 'cause I know she'll read this). Anyway, so Cat came down late Saturday afternoon, and the immediate consumption of several libations began. ... well not immediate... well... lemme explain... We didn't want to seem like raving alcoholics, itching to drink at jump, so we pretended to catch up (yeah right... I saw her like a month prior and we talk on the phone constantly), and I gave her a giftbag... complete with lipgloss, toiletries and a gift certificate (which came inside a nifty compact mirror)- all from Sephora. We pretended to be interested in watching DVDs- Strangers With Candy season 2 and some perverted Japanese film called, "In the Realm of the Senses" <---- perveeeerted city! I loved it! Anyway, at around 8pm or so we headed down to Pastis, a French brasserie in town, to listen to some live jazz and to indulge in drink and grub. Cat ordered some pork dish that was supposedly so tender that it was supposed to melt in your mouth. A pork party on your tongue - Um... no thank you, please. I had some simple thin thread pasta tossed w/ some vegetables and olive oil. We ordered kir and red wine respectively. Whilst we waited for our food, we scanned the room critiquing bad hair and attire. As the band, The Edwin West Project (a twosome which featured a singer (Edwin) and a guitar player) - was setting up, I couldn't help but notice how familiar the singer looked to me. I realized that I recognized him from two local record stores he worked at (first one and then the other, not at the same time). I couldn't wait to hear his gig. All set up and ready to sing, Edwin looked over and said during his intro, "Hey I know you..." which I found amusing. Every so often, we'd pass each other on the street and exchange cordial head nods of recognition, but we never introduced ourselves formally. Needless to say, he was great. He covered a lot of great jazz standards with a smattering of Bossa Nova thrown in... The Girl from Ipanema, for example. After Cat and I devoured our food and drink, I waited for Edwin to break before I went to the bathroom. Upon returning, I found him sitting in my spot chatting with Cat. I squeezed in next to Cat and then Edwin and I formally introduced ourselves to one another. The three of us chatted for the duration of his break about his singing endeavors and such. Afterward, Cat noted this bartender who I'll refer to as 'S' she and I befriended about a month ago, from this place called Agave Grill. I wrote a favorable review of Agave, for a local magazine, after which Cat and I saturated our bloodstream with its high-end tequila and sangrita... Hey, it was all in the name of post-article research. I can't speak what I don't know... Anyway, Cat spied him and would later admit to me that she'd been thinking about him for some time after we familiarized ourselves with him during our tequila induced debauchery. hint-hint. She went over- (I'm sure she sauntered and swayed)- to say hello on her way to the ladies room. Sometime in-between then, we got a free chocolate birthday souffle with a side of lemon sherbert on a thin cookie and a digestive courtesy of the manager of Pastis. Oh yeah, we had coffee too. I would later discover that this digestive would be the culprit for a killer hangover the following Sunday. Anyway, we listened to Edwin sing a couple more songs, then S'... came over to say hello to me. He had another Agave staffer in tow. They enouraged us to meet them at this OTHER place called Peppercorn Gril further downtown, on Main Street. So, Cat and I polished off our digestives and made our way on down to Peppercorn Grill in the rain... pushing our way through a thick cloud of clubbers. Upon arriving, we found S' and the other young woman, (I'll call her 'G'), whose boyfriend is a bartender there. We told them that we'd walked and they practically gasped with shock. I guess walking is some antiquated notion nowadays. While chillin' at Peppercorn Grill, we all passed around some cucumber and melon martini that G's boyfriend had concocted. It was very good I must say. Afterward, we all headed down to this wine and panini bar called, Bin 228 where we had several more drinks. Meanwhile, sitting across from the two of them, I could feel the sexual energy emanating from Cat's and S's attraction to one another... so during one of my drunken, obnoxious semi-tirades, I began teasing the both of them. I mean, it was obvious to me that they were attracted to one another. G and her boyfriend were also in the midst of some weird discussion, trying to determine whether they were a serious item or not. G would later turn to us and tell us that she and her boytoy had been fucking for about 7 weeks so she figures that constitutes "dating." hahahaha (sorry had to laugh at that one). See, G is from Ecuador, so "dating" is a weird term there. I guess they call it something else. In any event, during the course of the evening, I also learned from G. the origins of F.U.P.U.A. - an acronym for Fat Upper Pussy Area. Oookaaay. 'S' gave Cat and I a ride home (I live right down the street from Agave). Next morning, I woke up with a killer hangover, we went to brunch/lunch... at this diner called Mississippi Bar and Grill, I drank black coffee, ate my lunch with a side of Advil and then we walked down to a Tea/Coffee/Martini bar combo for some loose tea in a pot. Later we would head on over to my mother's house for more birthday food. Sooo it was a productive birthday weekend. Cat and I also made time to call my job's voicemail repeatedly during our drunken shenanigans to listen to one of my colleagues' weird cartoon voice. She offered up options on the voicemail's phone tree. Cat kept opined that she sounds like she should be saying, "WELCOME to MOVIE PHONE!!" Plus said co-worker is one of those people who says, "progrum" instead of program. hahahah, funny stuff. I must say, Cat and I always have a blast when we meet up, so it's not like I'm surprised by how much fun we both had. In summation, I learned this past weekend taught me that it is not appealing to have a F.U.P.U.A., I don't ever want to have a hangover again so I have to stock up on Chaser or lay off the granddaddy liquor altogether, and that two people who're attracted to one another just need to be prodded on by a drunken third party. cheers!