Haven't been to the beach yet so as of right now, I'm not coming home with a sassy tropical tan. But there's still hope. Mostlyl it's just been hanging with Mum. Which is fun for us, but boring to read about. I think.
Sunday Dad headed off to fly and Mom and I were just bums. Really. We watched some TV. Made Tuna Salad Sandwiches. Talked lots. Watched the Mama Dove sitting on her babies. There's a dove nest in the eaves (is that the right word?) of the Lanai and every few weeks a new Mama lays eggs there, hatches 'em, feeds 'em, teaches 'em to fly and then they all abandon the nest. Right now the babies have just hatched so we're watching her try and feed them and occasionally get to see baby bird heads over the top of the nest. Rather cute.
Yesterday I woke up early but kept trying to fall asleep until about 8. I had a really depressing dream. I can't remember what it was, but I remember it feeling "very high school" to me. The petty kind of high school meanness going on in the dream. Which left me a little bummed that whole morning. Plus I actually woke up thinking that it was 2PM at work on Monday and I was over half way through of my first of five days of work vacation. And that depressed me. Thinking I'd be back there in a week. I really need a new job.
Anyway, Mom went to the Dentist and I shopped around Kahala Mall getting a few gifts and things for our facial day. Then we ran out to Costco for a flash card for my camera and random crap.
You know what? This is all so boring. I give up. I'm chillin' with my Mom. I've made her watch New York Minute (which she hated) and Amelie (which she liked, thanks for the loan, Lovey). We ate veggie sausage balls. We've talked a lot. Good times.
Oh dear god. Mom and I are in different rooms, just a few feet from each other, IMing. And I started it. Must log off. Now.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Aloha
I'm here in Hawai'i. I made it on the flight and survived all 9 hours of it. Newark was eerily quiet yesterday. Apparently no one from New York really wanted to fly on the 11th. I can sort of understand, but really, when the next attack comes I suspect it will be a different one. Not the same thing as before. But that's just my opinion. I don't have terrorist experience. I wish no one did.
Seeing Mom was great. She looks good. And the big ugly hematoma on her thigh and hip and groin is hardly noticeable. She keeps wanting to show me, but basically it's just a little darker than the rest of her. It's even past the yellow stage of bruising. Which is great news. But I thinks she's sad I couldn't see it in all it's glory. But it's so nice to see her and to see that she's mostly just the same. A little paranoid of any twitch or twinge, but that's totally understandable until they get the other artery clear and do the stress test and all. I'm that way a little bit myself right now. I keep having to remind myself that heartburn and heart attack are separate things.
The flight was fine. Got to watch Stepford Wives, the remake, which was much better than expected. Glenn Close was lovely. And I caught an episode of Scrubs, read some of How to Make Love Like a Porn Star (no real pointers on that yet) and slept over almost all of the Continental US. Good times. They tend to feed you lots of meals and little snackies on these long flights. Kind of amusing. I slept through the big lunch though. I was sad to have missed the Milano cookies. My god I am boring. Sorry.
Mom and Dad met me at the airport with a pretty lei that smelled great and matched my outfit. Always a plus for me. Dad looks really good having lost a bunch of weight. Go Daddy. And we grabbed take out from the Olive Tree at the bottom of our hill. Spanikopita, hummus, stuffed grape leaves and pineapple-orange juice. Good times. Then we forced Dad to watch The Apprentice. I think he's now sucked in. As it ended he rolled his eyes and announced that he now has another recap to read. Hee.
Now I'm chillin'. Showing Mom some photos of a friend's wedding, doing laundry, drinking my coffee. She's talking to my grandmother right now and Dad just left for Guam. So it's a mellow day with the family. Soon I'm going to show her the rest of the photos and try and convince her to start using Trillian. And maybe something more exciting to write about tomorrow. Or maybe make Mom guest blog. Hee. I suppose I can always finish the LA stuff...
Seeing Mom was great. She looks good. And the big ugly hematoma on her thigh and hip and groin is hardly noticeable. She keeps wanting to show me, but basically it's just a little darker than the rest of her. It's even past the yellow stage of bruising. Which is great news. But I thinks she's sad I couldn't see it in all it's glory. But it's so nice to see her and to see that she's mostly just the same. A little paranoid of any twitch or twinge, but that's totally understandable until they get the other artery clear and do the stress test and all. I'm that way a little bit myself right now. I keep having to remind myself that heartburn and heart attack are separate things.
The flight was fine. Got to watch Stepford Wives, the remake, which was much better than expected. Glenn Close was lovely. And I caught an episode of Scrubs, read some of How to Make Love Like a Porn Star (no real pointers on that yet) and slept over almost all of the Continental US. Good times. They tend to feed you lots of meals and little snackies on these long flights. Kind of amusing. I slept through the big lunch though. I was sad to have missed the Milano cookies. My god I am boring. Sorry.
Mom and Dad met me at the airport with a pretty lei that smelled great and matched my outfit. Always a plus for me. Dad looks really good having lost a bunch of weight. Go Daddy. And we grabbed take out from the Olive Tree at the bottom of our hill. Spanikopita, hummus, stuffed grape leaves and pineapple-orange juice. Good times. Then we forced Dad to watch The Apprentice. I think he's now sucked in. As it ended he rolled his eyes and announced that he now has another recap to read. Hee.
Now I'm chillin'. Showing Mom some photos of a friend's wedding, doing laundry, drinking my coffee. She's talking to my grandmother right now and Dad just left for Guam. So it's a mellow day with the family. Soon I'm going to show her the rest of the photos and try and convince her to start using Trillian. And maybe something more exciting to write about tomorrow. Or maybe make Mom guest blog. Hee. I suppose I can always finish the LA stuff...
Thursday, September 09, 2004
My Mom had a Heart Attack
My Mom had a Heart Attack. It's getting easier to say that and to type it. It doesn't seem as strange as it did. And it doesn't scare me or freak me out quite as much as it did a couple of weeks ago.
On August 18th I got a late night call from my Dad that they were heading out to the Emergency Room. They thought she might be having a heart attack. It was a pretty horrible night for me, though I think in most ways it was far worse for Mom and Dad. I was just scared and worried and feeling too far away from my family. Dad was beyond scared and Mom was in a lot of pain and, well, having a heart attack.
But she's doing okay. The cardiologist told her that it was "big but aborted". So, apparently she was going to have a doozy of a heart attack if she hadn't gotten to the hospital as soon as she did. But she did get there quickly and they stopped it and put a stent in and cleared the artery that was 100% blocked. And gave her one of the biggest, ugliest hematomas the hospital has seen. I think she's kind of proud of it. After looking at the photo of it, I'm mostly just grossed out by it.
They kept telling her conflicting things about what the damage might be but it mostly seemed good. She felt fine aside from bruising and having just gone through a major trauma and all. She was talking and moving around. She was actually conscious the whole time of the attack. And her heart was functioning fine once they cleared the artery. They even released her from the hospital on the 21st. And she managed to walk the 43 (or is it 42?) steps up to the house on her own.
And then she had her follow-up appointment on the 27th which eased our minds a great deal. She still has one artery that's 50-60% blocked, but they can take care of that in early October or so. But it looks like there was little to no serious damage. Which is amazing and wonderful. She's got to get the nuclear imaging stress test thing (I'm not so good with the medical terms) done, hopefully at the end of this month. And then they'll really know what's going on. But it seems like good news for the most part. Really, after the initial bad news that she was having a heart attack, just about everything else has been good news. And she keeps promising me that she feels fine.
She's cut back on smoking a great deal and the plan is to eventually be free of the cigs. I think. Dad's been getting into the job of chef/nutritionist looking for all sorts of low-salt, low-cholesterol foods for the two of them. And I think he's losing weight. And she is too. So I've sorta decided if they can do it, I should too. Actually, aside from my age I think I'm the most at risk for a heart attack amongst the three of us. And maybe even if you take my age into account.
But Mom's building up her strength and is pretty much back to business as usual. Though things will really be back to normal once the insurance mess is worked out and we find out who her cardiologist will be, once she gets the stress test and once this other artery is cleared. Then we can really breath a sigh of relief and get her going on with the rest of her life.
But, I'm still a little worried. You know? I wanted to fly out there right away. But Dad said to wait until she got out of the hospital, since surgery wasn't required and all. And then he said he'd rather I came when he was heading back to work, so Mom could have company for an extra week or so and ease into having her chef away more often. So, I'm heading to Hawai'i on Saturday. And I'm so excited. I just can't wait to hug her and to see for myself that she's really okay. That she's really going to be around for another 40-50 years or more. And to check out the hematoma. So, future blogging will probably be from the islands. With my Mommy. I'll make her say hi.
On August 18th I got a late night call from my Dad that they were heading out to the Emergency Room. They thought she might be having a heart attack. It was a pretty horrible night for me, though I think in most ways it was far worse for Mom and Dad. I was just scared and worried and feeling too far away from my family. Dad was beyond scared and Mom was in a lot of pain and, well, having a heart attack.
But she's doing okay. The cardiologist told her that it was "big but aborted". So, apparently she was going to have a doozy of a heart attack if she hadn't gotten to the hospital as soon as she did. But she did get there quickly and they stopped it and put a stent in and cleared the artery that was 100% blocked. And gave her one of the biggest, ugliest hematomas the hospital has seen. I think she's kind of proud of it. After looking at the photo of it, I'm mostly just grossed out by it.
They kept telling her conflicting things about what the damage might be but it mostly seemed good. She felt fine aside from bruising and having just gone through a major trauma and all. She was talking and moving around. She was actually conscious the whole time of the attack. And her heart was functioning fine once they cleared the artery. They even released her from the hospital on the 21st. And she managed to walk the 43 (or is it 42?) steps up to the house on her own.
And then she had her follow-up appointment on the 27th which eased our minds a great deal. She still has one artery that's 50-60% blocked, but they can take care of that in early October or so. But it looks like there was little to no serious damage. Which is amazing and wonderful. She's got to get the nuclear imaging stress test thing (I'm not so good with the medical terms) done, hopefully at the end of this month. And then they'll really know what's going on. But it seems like good news for the most part. Really, after the initial bad news that she was having a heart attack, just about everything else has been good news. And she keeps promising me that she feels fine.
She's cut back on smoking a great deal and the plan is to eventually be free of the cigs. I think. Dad's been getting into the job of chef/nutritionist looking for all sorts of low-salt, low-cholesterol foods for the two of them. And I think he's losing weight. And she is too. So I've sorta decided if they can do it, I should too. Actually, aside from my age I think I'm the most at risk for a heart attack amongst the three of us. And maybe even if you take my age into account.
But Mom's building up her strength and is pretty much back to business as usual. Though things will really be back to normal once the insurance mess is worked out and we find out who her cardiologist will be, once she gets the stress test and once this other artery is cleared. Then we can really breath a sigh of relief and get her going on with the rest of her life.
But, I'm still a little worried. You know? I wanted to fly out there right away. But Dad said to wait until she got out of the hospital, since surgery wasn't required and all. And then he said he'd rather I came when he was heading back to work, so Mom could have company for an extra week or so and ease into having her chef away more often. So, I'm heading to Hawai'i on Saturday. And I'm so excited. I just can't wait to hug her and to see for myself that she's really okay. That she's really going to be around for another 40-50 years or more. And to check out the hematoma. So, future blogging will probably be from the islands. With my Mommy. I'll make her say hi.
Having Fun and Napping
Okay, for those of you who keep coming here on a search for the meaning of the various colors of 'sex bracelets', I am not your source. But a word of advice, if you need or even want bracelets to tell you when, how, and with whom to have sex you really shouldn't be having sex. I wore rubber bracelets as a little girl because they were pretty and cool and stretchy. And because I wanted to be Madonna (ask my mom to see the pictures, she'll show you). There is no other reason for these bracelets. Seriously. Sex because a bracelet told you to? Come on. Either you're in grade school and probably shouldn't be having sex because you're in grade school, or you're an idiot and probably shouldn't risk reproducing quite yet. And probably wouldn't be any good in bed anyway.
Anyway, I have been neglecting the blog because I've been having fun and napping. Aren't y'all jealous? And I don't actually consider napping fun so those are two different things I'm talking about. I find sleep to be a huge time suck. But my body demands it. And when I've gone too long with too little, I have to nap. Tragic. At least I have cats to nap with which makes it seem a little bit less of a waste.
So, on the 1st I headed off to Muffy and Steph's to check out Hawaii. It was not good. Oh no, it was not. But we had a blast. I had on an Aloha Shirt. Muffy was wearing a big fake flower. Steph made mai tais. We gorged on pasta. We got drunk. Good times. Really, it's the show's fault. Steph thought a drinking game was in order. We drank to the mention of virgin sacrifice. We drank to the mention of Ohana (though I was okay with the use of pau). We drank to the ridiculousness of the big red bathtub in the ridiculously large apartment for a building of that type. We drank to all kinds of nonsense and it was good. And the show, while bad, was not as bad as I thought it might be. The boys are pretty and I like a lot of the location shots (though going from Waikiki to "Kalani" (what, you can't pronounce Kalaniani'ole?) Highway in two seconds was kinda funny. Hee. The one on the 6th I think had a scene from Keneke's where we sometimes stop for plate lunch on the Circle Island Tour so that was amusing to me. So I will keep watching. And will keep waiting for the day when a good show films in Hawai'i. Some day. I do like it better than North Shore. Though North Shore has a couple pretty boys as well. But fewer cool location shots and far fewer locals. I so don't count Jasmine Trias. Because she annoys me.
Oh, and last Wednesday and Thursday I did get to work from home. Which was excellent. I cleared off TiVo and watched lots of sad movies. Because that's apparently my trend right now. I watched Midnight Cowboy which was good, but depressing as hell. I was kind of annoyed though. I figured I'd work some and clean some and putz around and do chores and nap in my hammock and all that but instead I pretty much did work freaking all day both days. So annoying. I guess I was wrong about me not ever being able to be a productive telecomuter.
Friday I went out with Iolanthe and Lovey for dinner and a movie after work. The plan had been to grab Indian food and see Vanity Fair. But I didn't pay attention to the emails clearly enough and wasn't sure where the restaurant I was thinking of was actually located. And the Indian place Iolanthe looked up wasn't where it was supposed to be. So we wandered down 9th Avenue until we hit Turkish Cuisine. And had that. Which was good. With lots of fun chatter. Then, we get to the theater only to learn that Iolanthe had been lied to!!!! Vanity Fair was playing at 7PM but not 7PM and 7:30PM as we had thought. So, we wandered across the street to the AMC (one of my fave NYC movie theaters because I love capitalism and comfy seats) and ended up catching We Don't Live Here Anymore. It was well done and beautifully acted and depressing as hell. Because that was becoming my new theme. Then we chatted in the theater until it was about time for the movie to start again. Heh.
Saturday was a blast. Charlotte, Muffy, Steph and I met up at The Pink Tea Cup for bunch. They had really good grits and decent biscuits and good corn fritters. Sadly I did not order the fritters and only got a bite of one. It's a tiny place and we timed it well so no waiting. Because we rock. Of course we finished early with an hour before our Scavenger Hunt. Heh. Charlotte had done one before though work and liked it and suggested one for us. We were doing the Greenwich Village TV & Movie Hunt. We got a list of 22 questions as well as a Polaroid camera and 9 photo tasks. We then get two hours to answer as many of the questions and take as many of the photos as we could. It was insanely dorky and a ton of fun. The questions send you to movie & tv locations and you try and find the answers to questions. The questions do at least direct you to a specific block which is nice. And most of the questions weren't too hard, but weren't all ridiculously easy either. Ed's Shirt managed to join us but wasn't much help. We were going like crazy for the first hour but by the last half hour the heat was really kicking our butts and we kinda skirted over question 21 and did a best guess. We did finish all 22 questions and took 9 photos. But sadly, we got four questions wrong (I still think the one question should've been counted as correct) and got the wrong location for the photo in front of the Friends building. So we tied with two other teams for second place. Which I am still sad about. But I did win $20. When we turned in our stuff they gave us surveys to fill out. We hobbled over to the Stoned Crow to drink beer while filling out surveys and waiting for all the teams to return. Steph and I spilled beer on my survey so I think that's why I won in the drawing there. The beer called to the woman and she just HAD to pick mine. So when we didn't win the whole shebang I treated everyone to ice cream with my winnings. Good times.
Then we went to Pottery Barn so Charlotte could do her mystery shopper thing and Muffy and I could sit on comfy cube seats and gab. Pumpkin and I are thinking of getting a beach house for a week next summer and inviting everyone in the world to come. Should be awesome. So Muff and I were tossing that idea around. Pumpkin, Muffy recommends the cape. Just so you know. Steph wandered off to look at boy clothes I think.
Then Charlotte went home to nap while I went with Steph and Muffy to shop and have a cookout in their courtyard with some neighbors. It was a lot of fun with a cute kid, veggie burgers and Sun Chips and grapes, an awesome dog and lots of conversation. But I thought I was going to die of exhaustion by the time I left.
Sunday I napped a lot. And watched A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I've always loved the book and thought I'd check out the movie. The book is better, of course. But parts of it are depressing and make me cry so that was yet another downer of a movie for me. Good times. Then off for Thai food and Hero. Another good movie that was depressing. Because why should I be happy when there are all these depressing movies to watch? Why?
And then nothing much until the great flood of 2004. Almost greater than the flood of Noah's time. Bah. New York can apparently handle terrorist attack, blackouts and the Republicans but cannot handle rain. And this has happened before. We get one hard fast rain and suddenly no one can drive and the train tunnels are all flooded. Took me TWO HOURS to get to work yesterday. It normally takes 40-45 minutes. But no. Two hours. Such poop. I was pretty lucky too. The second train I took to get into Manhattan wasn't too crowded at the very end and I caught a seat and could sit happily reading Flynn while the train did all of it's sitting and waiting. Saved my sanity I think. Luckily everything was back to normal for me on my way home. And this morning. Let's hope it stays this way. I remember one year I fought rain train hell to get to work and find that over half the office just stayed home and weren't even losing vacation time for it. I should've just worked from home yesterday. Dangit.
I'm looking forward to my vacation I think.
Anyway, I have been neglecting the blog because I've been having fun and napping. Aren't y'all jealous? And I don't actually consider napping fun so those are two different things I'm talking about. I find sleep to be a huge time suck. But my body demands it. And when I've gone too long with too little, I have to nap. Tragic. At least I have cats to nap with which makes it seem a little bit less of a waste.
So, on the 1st I headed off to Muffy and Steph's to check out Hawaii. It was not good. Oh no, it was not. But we had a blast. I had on an Aloha Shirt. Muffy was wearing a big fake flower. Steph made mai tais. We gorged on pasta. We got drunk. Good times. Really, it's the show's fault. Steph thought a drinking game was in order. We drank to the mention of virgin sacrifice. We drank to the mention of Ohana (though I was okay with the use of pau). We drank to the ridiculousness of the big red bathtub in the ridiculously large apartment for a building of that type. We drank to all kinds of nonsense and it was good. And the show, while bad, was not as bad as I thought it might be. The boys are pretty and I like a lot of the location shots (though going from Waikiki to "Kalani" (what, you can't pronounce Kalaniani'ole?) Highway in two seconds was kinda funny. Hee. The one on the 6th I think had a scene from Keneke's where we sometimes stop for plate lunch on the Circle Island Tour so that was amusing to me. So I will keep watching. And will keep waiting for the day when a good show films in Hawai'i. Some day. I do like it better than North Shore. Though North Shore has a couple pretty boys as well. But fewer cool location shots and far fewer locals. I so don't count Jasmine Trias. Because she annoys me.
Oh, and last Wednesday and Thursday I did get to work from home. Which was excellent. I cleared off TiVo and watched lots of sad movies. Because that's apparently my trend right now. I watched Midnight Cowboy which was good, but depressing as hell. I was kind of annoyed though. I figured I'd work some and clean some and putz around and do chores and nap in my hammock and all that but instead I pretty much did work freaking all day both days. So annoying. I guess I was wrong about me not ever being able to be a productive telecomuter.
Friday I went out with Iolanthe and Lovey for dinner and a movie after work. The plan had been to grab Indian food and see Vanity Fair. But I didn't pay attention to the emails clearly enough and wasn't sure where the restaurant I was thinking of was actually located. And the Indian place Iolanthe looked up wasn't where it was supposed to be. So we wandered down 9th Avenue until we hit Turkish Cuisine. And had that. Which was good. With lots of fun chatter. Then, we get to the theater only to learn that Iolanthe had been lied to!!!! Vanity Fair was playing at 7PM but not 7PM and 7:30PM as we had thought. So, we wandered across the street to the AMC (one of my fave NYC movie theaters because I love capitalism and comfy seats) and ended up catching We Don't Live Here Anymore. It was well done and beautifully acted and depressing as hell. Because that was becoming my new theme. Then we chatted in the theater until it was about time for the movie to start again. Heh.
Saturday was a blast. Charlotte, Muffy, Steph and I met up at The Pink Tea Cup for bunch. They had really good grits and decent biscuits and good corn fritters. Sadly I did not order the fritters and only got a bite of one. It's a tiny place and we timed it well so no waiting. Because we rock. Of course we finished early with an hour before our Scavenger Hunt. Heh. Charlotte had done one before though work and liked it and suggested one for us. We were doing the Greenwich Village TV & Movie Hunt. We got a list of 22 questions as well as a Polaroid camera and 9 photo tasks. We then get two hours to answer as many of the questions and take as many of the photos as we could. It was insanely dorky and a ton of fun. The questions send you to movie & tv locations and you try and find the answers to questions. The questions do at least direct you to a specific block which is nice. And most of the questions weren't too hard, but weren't all ridiculously easy either. Ed's Shirt managed to join us but wasn't much help. We were going like crazy for the first hour but by the last half hour the heat was really kicking our butts and we kinda skirted over question 21 and did a best guess. We did finish all 22 questions and took 9 photos. But sadly, we got four questions wrong (I still think the one question should've been counted as correct) and got the wrong location for the photo in front of the Friends building. So we tied with two other teams for second place. Which I am still sad about. But I did win $20. When we turned in our stuff they gave us surveys to fill out. We hobbled over to the Stoned Crow to drink beer while filling out surveys and waiting for all the teams to return. Steph and I spilled beer on my survey so I think that's why I won in the drawing there. The beer called to the woman and she just HAD to pick mine. So when we didn't win the whole shebang I treated everyone to ice cream with my winnings. Good times.
Then we went to Pottery Barn so Charlotte could do her mystery shopper thing and Muffy and I could sit on comfy cube seats and gab. Pumpkin and I are thinking of getting a beach house for a week next summer and inviting everyone in the world to come. Should be awesome. So Muff and I were tossing that idea around. Pumpkin, Muffy recommends the cape. Just so you know. Steph wandered off to look at boy clothes I think.
Then Charlotte went home to nap while I went with Steph and Muffy to shop and have a cookout in their courtyard with some neighbors. It was a lot of fun with a cute kid, veggie burgers and Sun Chips and grapes, an awesome dog and lots of conversation. But I thought I was going to die of exhaustion by the time I left.
Sunday I napped a lot. And watched A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I've always loved the book and thought I'd check out the movie. The book is better, of course. But parts of it are depressing and make me cry so that was yet another downer of a movie for me. Good times. Then off for Thai food and Hero. Another good movie that was depressing. Because why should I be happy when there are all these depressing movies to watch? Why?
And then nothing much until the great flood of 2004. Almost greater than the flood of Noah's time. Bah. New York can apparently handle terrorist attack, blackouts and the Republicans but cannot handle rain. And this has happened before. We get one hard fast rain and suddenly no one can drive and the train tunnels are all flooded. Took me TWO HOURS to get to work yesterday. It normally takes 40-45 minutes. But no. Two hours. Such poop. I was pretty lucky too. The second train I took to get into Manhattan wasn't too crowded at the very end and I caught a seat and could sit happily reading Flynn while the train did all of it's sitting and waiting. Saved my sanity I think. Luckily everything was back to normal for me on my way home. And this morning. Let's hope it stays this way. I remember one year I fought rain train hell to get to work and find that over half the office just stayed home and weren't even losing vacation time for it. I should've just worked from home yesterday. Dangit.
I'm looking forward to my vacation I think.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
What the hell is a Muckdog?
I can't find a good listing for Fall 2004 Television Premiere Dates. What's up with that? Even the network websites aren't making it easy for me to pull the dates from their sites. It's making me angry. Even Zap2It, which had a great Fall Premiere Calendar last year, is letting me down. I don't understand. How am I to know what to watch and when? I have needs that are not being met here. It's probably somewhere very obvious, isn't it? I'm very dumb aren't I? I don't know. Hawaii is premiering tomorrow though. I think. I might watch with Muffy and Steph. I hear it's horrible. As all Hawai'i shows since Magnum P.I. have been horrible. But I will watch and miss Hawai'i like I have with every Hawai'i show since Fall of 1992. Does anyone remember Raven? I watched that. So bad. Byrds of Paradise? One West Waikiki? Wind on Water? I pretend Baywatch Hawaii doesn't exist so do not speak of it to me. Ah, poor, poor Hawai'i. Maybe North Shore will improve. Though if any of these shows would use Hawai'ians or base the setting and characters in anything like reality it might work better for them. Hawai'i is an amazing, interesting place with exceptional people. No reason not to work with the islands as opposed to just filming on them. I don't know. I've gotten way off topic.
Our head guy just said something about how it's 'impossible to get around the city this week' and it took every ounce of willpower not to shout, "THAT'S WHY I SHOULD BE WORKING FROM HOME, YOU FUCKNUT!!!!!" Let's all be very proud of me. Though, I have been wanting to get laid off or fired sorta and that might do it... Maybe I should call him back here.
The planters are still out in full force and the coffee cart is still across the street. All is not right in the world.
Ed's Shirt made another appearance last night. Poor thing has been woefully neglected by me lately and PimpDaddy made me feel guilty about it last week so I brought it out for the Cyclones game last night. Nachos and Brooklyn Lager seem to make for a happy Ed's Shirt. And hopefully some new photos from LA, Boston and last night will be appearing on the site soon. Ooooh, since I'm not really doing much in the office today maybe I can spend some time encouraging Ed's Shirt to write a blog entry or two. Hmmmmmm...
Last night was excellent though. The Cyclones game was a blast and the Cyclones won, again. And Muffy, Steph and Gane are excellent company. And nachos are always fun. As is popcorn. And beer. And beer soaked popcorn. And minor league players are way cuter than major league players. Generally speaking. So ogling is good. And Steph got us great seats. So we could ogle the Muckdogs without a problem as well as get a good look at the game. Muffy was so excited that we were positioned in such a way that it was easier to tell a ball from a strike. Hee. She's so cute. And we sat next to some guys having a great time heckling the Muckdogs as well as poor Howie, a management type at the stadium. Very obnoxious guys but Muffy thought they were hysterical. They were kinda funny. No PeeWee out last night too, only Sandy. Gane got an awesome self portrait with Sandy. And I got a Cyclones hat and am ready for more games, probably next season. Though I'm wondering how fun it would be doing it a lot more often. It seems they do the same games and tricks and things each night. But still it was a blast so maybe I would be up for it. I think I want to follow the Cyclones a little more now.
Does anyone know what a Muckdog is?
Our head guy just said something about how it's 'impossible to get around the city this week' and it took every ounce of willpower not to shout, "THAT'S WHY I SHOULD BE WORKING FROM HOME, YOU FUCKNUT!!!!!" Let's all be very proud of me. Though, I have been wanting to get laid off or fired sorta and that might do it... Maybe I should call him back here.
The planters are still out in full force and the coffee cart is still across the street. All is not right in the world.
Ed's Shirt made another appearance last night. Poor thing has been woefully neglected by me lately and PimpDaddy made me feel guilty about it last week so I brought it out for the Cyclones game last night. Nachos and Brooklyn Lager seem to make for a happy Ed's Shirt. And hopefully some new photos from LA, Boston and last night will be appearing on the site soon. Ooooh, since I'm not really doing much in the office today maybe I can spend some time encouraging Ed's Shirt to write a blog entry or two. Hmmmmmm...
Last night was excellent though. The Cyclones game was a blast and the Cyclones won, again. And Muffy, Steph and Gane are excellent company. And nachos are always fun. As is popcorn. And beer. And beer soaked popcorn. And minor league players are way cuter than major league players. Generally speaking. So ogling is good. And Steph got us great seats. So we could ogle the Muckdogs without a problem as well as get a good look at the game. Muffy was so excited that we were positioned in such a way that it was easier to tell a ball from a strike. Hee. She's so cute. And we sat next to some guys having a great time heckling the Muckdogs as well as poor Howie, a management type at the stadium. Very obnoxious guys but Muffy thought they were hysterical. They were kinda funny. No PeeWee out last night too, only Sandy. Gane got an awesome self portrait with Sandy. And I got a Cyclones hat and am ready for more games, probably next season. Though I'm wondering how fun it would be doing it a lot more often. It seems they do the same games and tricks and things each night. But still it was a blast so maybe I would be up for it. I think I want to follow the Cyclones a little more now.
Does anyone know what a Muckdog is?
Monday, August 30, 2004
"Tired" and "Happy"
My mother sends out a nightly email. She used to call it an email to the oldies as it initially went out to her mother and stepfather, father and stepmother, aunt (my great-aunt) and some others in the family. But sadly three of those people are no longer with us and my grandmother (step-grandmother technically I guess) and great-aunt are the only "oldies" still on the list. Dad and I get it as well as my aunt and maybe a couple others. Muffy's been asking to be put on it, but I think Mom doesn't understand that others might want to read it. I keep trying to get her to turn it into a blog or something but she's not interested. So mean. Y'all would all totally read my Mom's blog, right? I know you would.
Anyway, she puts all her daily activities in there as well as those of Dad and I, and by extension our friends and coworkers and such. I've grown very used to being part of a newsletter. But sometimes it makes me giggle to get it. Relative to that (as you will soon see), I occasionally drunk dial my mom. I do so because it's fun. Charlotte started the trend way back when we were first apartment hunting in New York. She and I crashed at a friend of the Charlotte family's in Westport when the adults were out of town. Charlotte got a little drunk, and, um, such, and went wild with the phone. She ran out of her friends and family and moved on to mine, calling Mom and saying, "Hi, Ms. ______, Amanda wants to talk to you." and then handed me the phone. It was pretty hysterical at the time and Mom was amused. Then Pumpkin and I did it from Vegas a few years ago. It was like midnight on a Sunday night in Vegas and we figured calling folks on the East Coast would get us killed. But Mom was in Hawai'i and it was only 9 there. Awesome.
So I still continue the trend from time to time. When this happens it often ends up in the nightly email. But she doesn't EVER say her darling baby girl drunk dialed her. She says that Mandy and her friends took time out from their "fun" and called. Sometimes she says that Mandy and co sound really "happy" and like they're having a good time. But she never says that we sounded smashed and insane. Which is what we often are at that point.
In this past Friday night email she mentioned that I went out on Thursday with friends and had a good time and was "tired" the next day. Not ragingly hung over but "tired". I think that's so cute.
Can you tell I'm on a bit of a work strike stemming from my bitterness about not working from home tomorrow? More blog for you!
Anyway, she puts all her daily activities in there as well as those of Dad and I, and by extension our friends and coworkers and such. I've grown very used to being part of a newsletter. But sometimes it makes me giggle to get it. Relative to that (as you will soon see), I occasionally drunk dial my mom. I do so because it's fun. Charlotte started the trend way back when we were first apartment hunting in New York. She and I crashed at a friend of the Charlotte family's in Westport when the adults were out of town. Charlotte got a little drunk, and, um, such, and went wild with the phone. She ran out of her friends and family and moved on to mine, calling Mom and saying, "Hi, Ms. ______, Amanda wants to talk to you." and then handed me the phone. It was pretty hysterical at the time and Mom was amused. Then Pumpkin and I did it from Vegas a few years ago. It was like midnight on a Sunday night in Vegas and we figured calling folks on the East Coast would get us killed. But Mom was in Hawai'i and it was only 9 there. Awesome.
So I still continue the trend from time to time. When this happens it often ends up in the nightly email. But she doesn't EVER say her darling baby girl drunk dialed her. She says that Mandy and her friends took time out from their "fun" and called. Sometimes she says that Mandy and co sound really "happy" and like they're having a good time. But she never says that we sounded smashed and insane. Which is what we often are at that point.
In this past Friday night email she mentioned that I went out on Thursday with friends and had a good time and was "tired" the next day. Not ragingly hung over but "tired". I think that's so cute.
Can you tell I'm on a bit of a work strike stemming from my bitterness about not working from home tomorrow? More blog for you!
RNC
Grrrrr... My boss just told me he doesn't think it's going to be a big deal and he'll be in more so I have to work from the office tomorrow. I do NOT want to deal with this convention nonsense during the day and am annoyed. Very annoyed. I'm working from home Wednesday & Thursday. No way they're keeping me from doing that. They'll all be out most of Wednesday anyway for the damn outing and Thursday the President is in town and I do NOT want to be in Manhattan for that.
So far I haven't seen huge changes. Just a hell of a lot more cops than usual, and lots of homeland security guys with huge guns wandering around Grand Central and the like. Oh, and the GIANT planters my company is putting up all around the perimeter of our building. Cutting off the space on the corners and creating a little mini wall all around the building. And pushing our coffee cart guys across the street - which REALLY pisses me off. Oh, and we have a stock pile of gas masks and light sticks by the stairs on every floor of the building now. And they have an area of our cafeteria blocked off as a hospitality area for local police. Which is nice, but so odd. I have absolutely no idea what to expect. There's supposed to be a rally in Times Square this afternoon, but who knows. Maybe everyone is resting from yesterday and gearing up for Wednesday and Thursday. I'll be very glad when this is all over and I have my long Labor Day weekend in which to relax.
At least today and Tuesday are supposed to be the hottest days this week so maybe it'll be better to be here with the air conditioning. Yeah, right.
So far I haven't seen huge changes. Just a hell of a lot more cops than usual, and lots of homeland security guys with huge guns wandering around Grand Central and the like. Oh, and the GIANT planters my company is putting up all around the perimeter of our building. Cutting off the space on the corners and creating a little mini wall all around the building. And pushing our coffee cart guys across the street - which REALLY pisses me off. Oh, and we have a stock pile of gas masks and light sticks by the stairs on every floor of the building now. And they have an area of our cafeteria blocked off as a hospitality area for local police. Which is nice, but so odd. I have absolutely no idea what to expect. There's supposed to be a rally in Times Square this afternoon, but who knows. Maybe everyone is resting from yesterday and gearing up for Wednesday and Thursday. I'll be very glad when this is all over and I have my long Labor Day weekend in which to relax.
At least today and Tuesday are supposed to be the hottest days this week so maybe it'll be better to be here with the air conditioning. Yeah, right.
Friday, August 27, 2004
Drunk
I love drunk New York. It just makes me smile. Walking home or to the train at a certain point of the night watching all the drunken folks doing their thing. Like the pizza place with the huge line of people looking for a slice or two as hangover prevention (something I should've done as I hurt today and the pizza really did smell so good last night). Or the drunk couple stumbling around and playing a clumsy game of grab-ass on the curb. The cops calmly talking down yet another drunk asshole. People walking to another bar rather than walking home. The occasional family or lone non-drinker dodging the stumbling idiots on their way to wherever. And seeing the differences between the really tired looking single person heading home after the goodbyes versus the groups of people still laughing and being social with the late hour not hitting them yet. And the cabs trolling for people too tired or drunk or rich or all of the above to bother with the train.
And saying goodbye. Long goodbyes with giggling and cigarettes. Or in my group's case, promising to get each other's email addresses through PimpDaddy so we can plan PimpDaddy's October birthday party, complete with strippers. To make up for the less than stellar birthday dinner last year. It sounded like an awesome idea last night.
And the folks waiting for the train. Hee. This one couple kept circling one of the pillars on the platform playing peekaboo. It was adorable. They were cracking up and taking breaks to make out for a minute or two and then the guy would run back behind the pillar and peer out at her. And then the punk rock girl coming down the stairs in her all black outfit holding a pink sparkly hula hoop. I have no idea why. The group of girls in sparkly halter tops looking all sad that they're going home with their girlfriends instead of some hottie in the bar. I just like watching it all. Amusing.
But now it's not so amusing because I feel like poo. I was going to pack and do all kinds of things last night. PimpDaddy, Charlotte and I were just going to do a quick dinner and drinks thing and I was going to be home early. Hah. Dinner didn't really happen, just a little snacking. And way too many drinks. Three apple martinis and two and a half vodka tonics on a not very full stomach. Bad, bad PimpDaddy and Charlotte for letting that happen. But I think I kinda needed it. It was the most relaxed I've been in a couple of weeks. And it was fun conversation. And I met some of Charlotte's old coworkers and one of PimpDaddy's current coworkers and there was lots of chatting and laughing and talk of strippers. A good night. Now if only I could be home in bed right now.
My train's not until 7:37. Maybe when everyone leaves I can sack out on my boss's couch for an hour. Hmmm...
Okay, now, for another mention of Sheena - to continue to make up for not mentioning her enough before apparently. She adopted a child from India through one of those adopt a child in a foreign nation programs that Sally Struthers is so fond of. Actually I think she used the exact one Sally used to pitch for. And she has a cute diabetic dog named Jack who is a papillon chihuahua mix. He's very cute. They both are. Jack & the kid. Sheena is okay too I guess. Anyway, she has photos of them up all over her desk and we call them her little family. I think for Christmas she needs to piece together some kind of portrait studio type portrait with her, the kid, the dog and the boyfriend. Cute, right?
Ow. My head. My tummy. WHINE!
And saying goodbye. Long goodbyes with giggling and cigarettes. Or in my group's case, promising to get each other's email addresses through PimpDaddy so we can plan PimpDaddy's October birthday party, complete with strippers. To make up for the less than stellar birthday dinner last year. It sounded like an awesome idea last night.
And the folks waiting for the train. Hee. This one couple kept circling one of the pillars on the platform playing peekaboo. It was adorable. They were cracking up and taking breaks to make out for a minute or two and then the guy would run back behind the pillar and peer out at her. And then the punk rock girl coming down the stairs in her all black outfit holding a pink sparkly hula hoop. I have no idea why. The group of girls in sparkly halter tops looking all sad that they're going home with their girlfriends instead of some hottie in the bar. I just like watching it all. Amusing.
But now it's not so amusing because I feel like poo. I was going to pack and do all kinds of things last night. PimpDaddy, Charlotte and I were just going to do a quick dinner and drinks thing and I was going to be home early. Hah. Dinner didn't really happen, just a little snacking. And way too many drinks. Three apple martinis and two and a half vodka tonics on a not very full stomach. Bad, bad PimpDaddy and Charlotte for letting that happen. But I think I kinda needed it. It was the most relaxed I've been in a couple of weeks. And it was fun conversation. And I met some of Charlotte's old coworkers and one of PimpDaddy's current coworkers and there was lots of chatting and laughing and talk of strippers. A good night. Now if only I could be home in bed right now.
My train's not until 7:37. Maybe when everyone leaves I can sack out on my boss's couch for an hour. Hmmm...
Okay, now, for another mention of Sheena - to continue to make up for not mentioning her enough before apparently. She adopted a child from India through one of those adopt a child in a foreign nation programs that Sally Struthers is so fond of. Actually I think she used the exact one Sally used to pitch for. And she has a cute diabetic dog named Jack who is a papillon chihuahua mix. He's very cute. They both are. Jack & the kid. Sheena is okay too I guess. Anyway, she has photos of them up all over her desk and we call them her little family. I think for Christmas she needs to piece together some kind of portrait studio type portrait with her, the kid, the dog and the boyfriend. Cute, right?
Ow. My head. My tummy. WHINE!
Thursday, August 26, 2004
HELP
I was scrolling through Amazon.com's recommendations for me and came across something that I initially read as "Mathematic Princess Dress Up" and my first thought was BEST GAME EVER! Princesses. Math. Dressing up. Game. How is that not the coolest game/toy ever? Alas, it does not seem to exist. It was "Magnetic Princess Dress Up". Not even remotely cool. Really. But I'm starting to wonder if there is something wrong with me.
Oh, wait. Mary Kate & Ashley New York Minute Doll Twin Pack! Okay, that's almost as cool as mathematic princess dress up. Oh. Oh. Oh!!!! EVEN BETTER!!!! Dear Lord, help me! I'm a total freak.
The big man in our group just popped by my desk to say he'd heard about my family and to say some nice words. Which was rather decent of him. Lovey and Sheena (more on her in a moment) excluded, my group is not the nicest, friendliest, most tactful group in the world. Economists seem to be a bit on the socially stunted side. So, every little bit helps.
Of course the big props goes to friends and family who are amazing and sweet and all that. I really do have the nicest friends and family members I think. Well, aside from the crazy ones. And even some of the crazy ones are really nice, just crazy.
So, Sheena feels she has not been properly mentioned in the blog. Which of course makes me regret bitching about "barksdale AFB hookers" at the office yesterday, leading her to learn of the blog. But what can you do. Sheena is off at the gym now, getting all buff and beautiful and badass for her trip to Miami next month. She's also discovered a new love for the Olympic Men's Beach Volleyball team. She hasn't specified which country, but I'm betting USA. I don't know though. I don't watch the Olympics. Never have. It either depresses me to watch people screw up or bores me. I did an awesome paper on the politics of it in European History in High School though. Wonder if I still have that somewhere. Anyway, that's my little bit about Sheena for the day. More on her in the next blog entry.
Tonight I'm seeing Charlotte for the second time in the same week. Which is good for us. I hadn't seen her since my birthday, unfortunately. We had dinner at this great place down in the Village, 'ino, on Thursday and it was so much fun. I kinda want to go back there. But tonight we're going to Art Bar to hang with Pimp Daddy, catch up and discuss the joys of being on the ALS Board of Trustees. You know you're jealous.
Oh, wait. Mary Kate & Ashley New York Minute Doll Twin Pack! Okay, that's almost as cool as mathematic princess dress up. Oh. Oh. Oh!!!! EVEN BETTER!!!! Dear Lord, help me! I'm a total freak.
The big man in our group just popped by my desk to say he'd heard about my family and to say some nice words. Which was rather decent of him. Lovey and Sheena (more on her in a moment) excluded, my group is not the nicest, friendliest, most tactful group in the world. Economists seem to be a bit on the socially stunted side. So, every little bit helps.
Of course the big props goes to friends and family who are amazing and sweet and all that. I really do have the nicest friends and family members I think. Well, aside from the crazy ones. And even some of the crazy ones are really nice, just crazy.
So, Sheena feels she has not been properly mentioned in the blog. Which of course makes me regret bitching about "barksdale AFB hookers" at the office yesterday, leading her to learn of the blog. But what can you do. Sheena is off at the gym now, getting all buff and beautiful and badass for her trip to Miami next month. She's also discovered a new love for the Olympic Men's Beach Volleyball team. She hasn't specified which country, but I'm betting USA. I don't know though. I don't watch the Olympics. Never have. It either depresses me to watch people screw up or bores me. I did an awesome paper on the politics of it in European History in High School though. Wonder if I still have that somewhere. Anyway, that's my little bit about Sheena for the day. More on her in the next blog entry.
Tonight I'm seeing Charlotte for the second time in the same week. Which is good for us. I hadn't seen her since my birthday, unfortunately. We had dinner at this great place down in the Village, 'ino, on Thursday and it was so much fun. I kinda want to go back there. But tonight we're going to Art Bar to hang with Pimp Daddy, catch up and discuss the joys of being on the ALS Board of Trustees. You know you're jealous.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Working My Way Out from Under
All sorts of bad things in varying degrees of badness are going on with me and the people around me and as such, I've been unable to really blog. It seems kinda silly to blather on about silly things like the searches people use to find me, Cyclones games, the weird thing that guy did on the Subway, why work is mean and so on and so forth when big things are going on. But more likely it's silly to think that it's silly. Going to the Cyclones game on Sunday was awesome and did good things for me. The weird guy on the subway totally made me laugh. Work is stupid, but they're cool enough to let me go to Hawai'i for a week whenever I want, which is September 11th (Sorry, Pumpkin - it just looks like the best day for me to fly. I'm sure I will be fine.).
Anyway, right now I want to babble about such things and maybe later will write about the other stuff going on. I don't know. We'll see.
But first, I'm listening to Rock Star Fran's new CD. Woo Hoo. Check it out. Buy one for yourself! She hasn't written a song about me yet, but I'm still enjoying it. Hmmmm... it's supposed to be for sale today, but I don't see it yet. It'll be up there though. Pantsuit - "The path from the house to the lawn". You can always get Schwervon CDs or "Leg Out" while you're waiting.
So, I was home most of the weekend and was forced out into the sunlight Sunday afternoon due to some Cyclones tickets I purchased at a silent auction back in March. I was feeling a bit agoraphobic on the train and on my way to the stadium but seeing Vader and Taylor was nice. And the weather was amazing. Sunny and clear and not too hot. And the seats were good. And the game was so much fun. I haven't been to a minor league game since high school, when the Shreveport Captains were still in existence. Before they became the Shreveport Swamp Dragons (LAME) and then disappeared. (Searching for links is making me all nostalgic for Shreveport - strange.) Oh. Apparently the Swamp Dragons ran off to Frisco, Texas and now we have the Shreveport Sports. I'm going to have to research this a little more, later. Because right now I'm getting totally off track.
Back to the Cyclones. So, I had forgotten how much fun minor league games are. The baseball isn't quite the same as what I see in Yankee Stadium but it wasn't bad. Some of it was good, I don't care what Taylor says. And it was such a relaxed atmosphere. Fascinating people watching in the stands. One very unhappy and horrible woman sat right in front of us. One of the little girls associated with her gave us quite the "what morons!" look when we were debating whether the main mascot was a seagull or a chicken. It's Sandy the Seagull, guys, I was so right. And speaking of mascots, there were four. Sandy and Pee Wee (baby Seagull?) plus a dragon or something green I think and Clifford the Big Red Dog. And lots of perky people running all the 'fun and games'. So awesome. Mocking the perkiest girl of all with the red ribbon in her hair dancing all over the place. Watching her do the cabbage patch was Excellent.
And every inning there's a new way to humiliate the fans. Vader liked it best when they showed the Neil Diamond Karaoke video (complete with Neil addressing Brooklyn and singing in front of fake fields and rainbows) for Sweet Caroline and the whole stadium stood up and sang. I kind of enjoyed the races; one where a tiny little girl ran around to the bases collecting $5 on each one and one where two teenaged boys twirled around with their heads on bats to get dizzy and raced each other, with one totally wiping out. Good times, that.
It was just such a fun relaxing kinda time. Though it would've been better with beer. I left my purse with Taylor when Vader and I went for snacks and such and I got CARDED. I'm 30. I have gray hair. Carded. Pissed me off. And I was too lazy to go and get my ID and go back and stand in line again. Alas. Probably better for me. But I'm looking forward to going again on Monday (when I will have my ID on me at all times) and think I might be up for season tickets next year. Charlotte, Muffy & Steph might all be up for it. Maybe Vader & Taylor. Who knows.
Recent searches that have lead to my blog; "fishboy blogspot", "UNDRESSED BY AUNTIE", "barksdale AFB hookers" (my new favorite) and "'happy bunny' butts kicked". I'm on google now. Google has weirder searchers than yahoo I think.
And I think that's enough for now. Pimped Fran's CD, babbled about the Cyclones and told everyone that the way to AFB hookers is through me. What more does a blog need to do?
Anyway, right now I want to babble about such things and maybe later will write about the other stuff going on. I don't know. We'll see.
But first, I'm listening to Rock Star Fran's new CD. Woo Hoo. Check it out. Buy one for yourself! She hasn't written a song about me yet, but I'm still enjoying it. Hmmmm... it's supposed to be for sale today, but I don't see it yet. It'll be up there though. Pantsuit - "The path from the house to the lawn". You can always get Schwervon CDs or "Leg Out" while you're waiting.
So, I was home most of the weekend and was forced out into the sunlight Sunday afternoon due to some Cyclones tickets I purchased at a silent auction back in March. I was feeling a bit agoraphobic on the train and on my way to the stadium but seeing Vader and Taylor was nice. And the weather was amazing. Sunny and clear and not too hot. And the seats were good. And the game was so much fun. I haven't been to a minor league game since high school, when the Shreveport Captains were still in existence. Before they became the Shreveport Swamp Dragons (LAME) and then disappeared. (Searching for links is making me all nostalgic for Shreveport - strange.) Oh. Apparently the Swamp Dragons ran off to Frisco, Texas and now we have the Shreveport Sports. I'm going to have to research this a little more, later. Because right now I'm getting totally off track.
Back to the Cyclones. So, I had forgotten how much fun minor league games are. The baseball isn't quite the same as what I see in Yankee Stadium but it wasn't bad. Some of it was good, I don't care what Taylor says. And it was such a relaxed atmosphere. Fascinating people watching in the stands. One very unhappy and horrible woman sat right in front of us. One of the little girls associated with her gave us quite the "what morons!" look when we were debating whether the main mascot was a seagull or a chicken. It's Sandy the Seagull, guys, I was so right. And speaking of mascots, there were four. Sandy and Pee Wee (baby Seagull?) plus a dragon or something green I think and Clifford the Big Red Dog. And lots of perky people running all the 'fun and games'. So awesome. Mocking the perkiest girl of all with the red ribbon in her hair dancing all over the place. Watching her do the cabbage patch was Excellent.
And every inning there's a new way to humiliate the fans. Vader liked it best when they showed the Neil Diamond Karaoke video (complete with Neil addressing Brooklyn and singing in front of fake fields and rainbows) for Sweet Caroline and the whole stadium stood up and sang. I kind of enjoyed the races; one where a tiny little girl ran around to the bases collecting $5 on each one and one where two teenaged boys twirled around with their heads on bats to get dizzy and raced each other, with one totally wiping out. Good times, that.
It was just such a fun relaxing kinda time. Though it would've been better with beer. I left my purse with Taylor when Vader and I went for snacks and such and I got CARDED. I'm 30. I have gray hair. Carded. Pissed me off. And I was too lazy to go and get my ID and go back and stand in line again. Alas. Probably better for me. But I'm looking forward to going again on Monday (when I will have my ID on me at all times) and think I might be up for season tickets next year. Charlotte, Muffy & Steph might all be up for it. Maybe Vader & Taylor. Who knows.
Recent searches that have lead to my blog; "fishboy blogspot", "UNDRESSED BY AUNTIE", "barksdale AFB hookers" (my new favorite) and "'happy bunny' butts kicked". I'm on google now. Google has weirder searchers than yahoo I think.
And I think that's enough for now. Pimped Fran's CD, babbled about the Cyclones and told everyone that the way to AFB hookers is through me. What more does a blog need to do?
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Weekend Dilemma
So, I'm supposed to spend the weekend of the 28th in Connecticut with Pumpkin and her friend and possibly Fishboy. And I'm excited about it because I love hanging with Pumpkin and haven't done so since the Fourth of July. Plus her friend is awesome. As is Fishboy. And a weekend of walks and eating and the beach and just relaxing sounds heavenly. But it's also the weekend the RNC starts and there are some protests that I really would like to do. Like the March for Women's Lives across the Brooklyn Bridge and into City Hall Park that Saturday. And the United for Peace and Justice March on Sunday. It seems a shame to leave the city when such big things that matter so much to me are happening. But then, I love Pumpkin and I love the beach and I'm not sure when I'll get to hang with her again the way our schedules are. But then Rock Star Fran and Lovey both said they'd march with me over the weekend if I go and that would be three more people to add to that political statement. So, tough call. Not sure what I'm going to do. Or how unhappy with me Pumpkin would be. Pumpkin? Don't suppose you and Yorkie wanna come to NYC and March with the chicas that weekend instead? I have a hammock and it's awesome.
I'm also trying to figure out the week of the convention. There are lots of things I want to participate in, but I also really like the idea of being able to work from home for part of that week. The Poor People's March is happening on Monday, and while I support it I also don't want to be trying to get home from work while the rally is going on in Times Square. But then there are some activities and protests I want to go to which will put me in Manhattan. Of course, lots of those activities are in the late afternoon and evening and I could just start work early and log off early to head into Manhattan to hit those, like the NOW rally on Monday in Central Park. I think I might lean toward that. Just because I think my Mom would feel better if I weren't in a big financial services building in the middle of a landmark area the week of the convention. And I want to work in my jammies. As long as the real activities I want to attend are in the evening.
Ah, the life of a liberal capitalist feminist girly beach bunny. So many decisions.
Muffy & Steph, if you're reading this, I'm thinking about you and sending you all my love. Take care.
I'm also trying to figure out the week of the convention. There are lots of things I want to participate in, but I also really like the idea of being able to work from home for part of that week. The Poor People's March is happening on Monday, and while I support it I also don't want to be trying to get home from work while the rally is going on in Times Square. But then there are some activities and protests I want to go to which will put me in Manhattan. Of course, lots of those activities are in the late afternoon and evening and I could just start work early and log off early to head into Manhattan to hit those, like the NOW rally on Monday in Central Park. I think I might lean toward that. Just because I think my Mom would feel better if I weren't in a big financial services building in the middle of a landmark area the week of the convention. And I want to work in my jammies. As long as the real activities I want to attend are in the evening.
Ah, the life of a liberal capitalist feminist girly beach bunny. So many decisions.
Muffy & Steph, if you're reading this, I'm thinking about you and sending you all my love. Take care.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
It takes so little to please me... high maintenance, my ass.
Last night I was heading home from the bad Karaoke on the F train and some annoying guy was singing and playing guitar, looking for money. He worked our particular car for a while, actually. Usually they sing, ask for money and move to the next car in the span of one to two stops. This guy sang, came up and down the car with the hat and then started singing and playing again while walking back and forth the middle part of the car where I was sitting. Kind of annoyed me until I looked up and saw that the tattoo on his left arm said Amanda. It was a really pretty script too. With a little green highlighting I think. And it made me so happy. Wouldn't it be awesome if everyone had a really pretty Amanda tattoo somewhere on their body. But until that day, this one made me really happy. And I kinda wished I had something other than a twenty on me. I might've given up a $10 for the amusement that the tattoo gave me, but I guess it wasn't enough for a $20. But it just made me smile. While listening to my iPod and not his very bad singing. Eventually I saw that Adam was tattooed on the other side. I think it means that my soulmate is named Adam, right? Heh. Soulmate. Ew.
Then I got home and took a shower. I finally opened and used the soap I got in Vegas back in February and it was awesome. It was pikaki soap and it smelled so good and just made me think of home. I don't know why, but out of all the places I've lived Hawai'i is the one that feels most like home to me. And I was only there for a couple years until college. But it does feel like home to me. And I do think that some day I'm going to get exhausted by New York and move back there. But until then I'll visit a lot and go and buy a ton more of this pikaki soap. Yeah, y'all now know what you're all getting for Christmas, pikaki soap and Lush bath bombs. Hee.
Then I got home and took a shower. I finally opened and used the soap I got in Vegas back in February and it was awesome. It was pikaki soap and it smelled so good and just made me think of home. I don't know why, but out of all the places I've lived Hawai'i is the one that feels most like home to me. And I was only there for a couple years until college. But it does feel like home to me. And I do think that some day I'm going to get exhausted by New York and move back there. But until then I'll visit a lot and go and buy a ton more of this pikaki soap. Yeah, y'all now know what you're all getting for Christmas, pikaki soap and Lush bath bombs. Hee.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Does anyone want to be Bob
I really wanna have a Bob in my blob. Does anyone out there want to be Bob? Anyone who might be mentioned in my blog in the near future who doesn't already have a nickname? Maybe?
Bob.
Bob.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Love Love Love
Happy Anniversary Muffy & Steph!
Everyone, the second anniversary is apparently cotton (traditional) or china (modern). Let's see what we can do with that.
Everyone, the second anniversary is apparently cotton (traditional) or china (modern). Let's see what we can do with that.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
Airline
Do y'all ever watch Airline? This show kills me. It's all basically the same stories. People miss flights, people are too drunk to fly, occasionally celebrities pop up and luggage often gets lost. And SouthWest employees occasionally partay partay. Sometimes there are other stories, but these are the main ones. And I can't stop watching (Mom, this is your fault). People's sense of entitlement just kills me. Just kills me. KILLS ME. Ahem.
People get smashed and then don't understand why they can't get on a plane with lots of other people in a very little space. And when they're told they need to sober up before they can fly they go into the bar. Because that's an AWESOME place to sober up. Why do you need to be drunk on a plane anyway? I can sort of see it when it's a Bachelorette Party going to Vegas or something like that. But people just flying alone, getting smashed in the bar, early in the morning.
And I love the folks who miss the plane. Do these people ever leave their home? Lots of times people don't understand why a plane didn't wait until they arrived. Like the gate agents were just supposed to hang out knowing in their hearts that this passenger will arrive. If a plane waits for someone who might be getting on then everyone on the plane will be a little late to their destination, maybe missing their connecting flights. The plane will probably then be late taking off again and going to it's next destination, screwing up a whole long line of trips that this particular plane needs to be taking. It's not like the plane flies from Cleveland to LA and then hangs out for a while resting and all that. It's not a flight crew that needs a pit stop between trips. It's a freakin' plane. Unload it, clean it, fill it up, load it up and send that puppy back out! Also, the jackasses who feel the plane should've waited until they moseyed on up? Let's take a moment to picture how they would react if they were ON a plane that was waiting for a lazy late motherfucker. Yeah. Not pretty.
Once, I was flying to or from college and was stuck in LA. Flying standby at busy times often got me stuck in LA. Or wherever. Well, they boarded the plane, made announcements, made a final boarding annoucement, did a seat count, gave away the empty seats to standby passengers and pulled up the jetway, about five minutes or so before the flight's schedule departure time. Some guy and his family came strolling up to the gate and said that was their flight. The gate agent (politely) said the flight was pretty much gone. (Now, on the show, this is the point where the asshole points at the plane out there and insists it be brought back to the gate, opened up, jetway rolled back out and their asses allowed on - making the flight LATE.) The gate agent was really nice at first and seemed concerned that this family missed the flight. He started trying to get them on another flight, trying somehow to get them to their destination at this point. He was dealing with the situation as it was because that plane wasn't coming back. He also seemed concerned that they missed the flight, trying to find out if they were held up at the ticket counter or security. This was a million years ago before you had to show up three hours early just to make it through security (well, that's how it is in New York now at least). The guy started blustering and trying to blame the gate agent and everyone else in the world saying that he got there BEFORE the departure time. The gate agent pointed out that when tickets are purchased (and on the tickets and everywhere else) customers are told they need to be in the gate area 10 minutes prior to departure time. And he was still trying to figure out why this guy was late since he checked in with plenty of time to get to the gate. Finally the guy just says they were wondering around and he didn't have a watch and wasn't paying attention to the time. Though he might've said it in a much more roundabout way. The gate agent still tried to help the guy get on the next flight and and all but wasn't as interested in pacifing the man's bad attitude at that point. And then the man just went nuts. He started yelling and throwing his giant (too big for a carry-on, really sir) bag around. Then gate agent started threatening to call security. It was an amazing spectacle. And I still don't understand that mindset. Really. You fucked up. You were late. Your flight left. Get on the next one. Yeah, it's a few hours later, but deal.
When I heading to Hawai'i from LA one time, around Christmas, I was checking when (like 3 hours early) and a woman came up to check in for a flight that was due to leave in half an hour. Have you seen the security line at LAX? It made me almost cry. It is a horrible, horrible thing. No way was this girl getting through security in even 45 minutes, let alone 20. Anyway, the ticket agent nicely and matter-of-factly told the girl she had missed her flight for all intents and purposes. Even though it was half an hour before departure time. The girl said she knew and was just running late and wanted to see about getting out as soon after as she could. And I almost wanted to run over and kiss her. She was my superhero for the day. And really, she shouldn't be my superhero because that's how people should act.
Ooooh, and the people who get mad when they are on overbooked flights. As we have all seen (haven't we?), not everyone gets on every flight they're booked for. People miss flights, they change their mind at the last minute, things come up, they get an earlier flight, whatever. If an airline only books as many people as they have seats, they're going to lose serious money. Unless they charge you for the seat as soon as you book it, whether you end up in it or not. No refunds, no changing flights, nada. But can you imagine how Jane Entitlement would feel about that? Let's take another moment, shall we? Yes. Anyway, airlines overbook flights to a certain percentage knowing they'll get no-shows. Often this works fine. Other times too many people actually show up. So those of you who wisely showed up & checked in early get on the flight. Those of you without watches, hanging out in the bars, might not. The airline tries to get people to take a later flight offering upgrades, coupons and sometimes hotel stays. And if people take it, the watch-free drunkards (sorry, cranky at these people right now) get on the flight. If not, well, they get put on other flights and life goes on. There's only so much an airline can do. Well, on the show these folks go crazy as if this is an unheard practice. That they've never seen or heard of such a thing. This revelation usually comes after they announce what frequent flyers they are (My Ass!). A few times on the show I've seen people threaten legal action because a flight was overbooked. Hee. Just kills me. Show up to the airport at least an hour or two ahead (depending upon the airport). Reconfirm your flights. Don't get smashed beyond reason a half hour before you flight. All of these things will lead you to a better flying experience. Unless you're me, in which case you'll be on a delayed flight to hell with 17 screaming children. But I'm special.
Anyway, these people piss me off and I'm going to start hiding smelly things in their bags when I see them in airports now. Grrrrr... And don't even get me started on the luggage losing people. Ugh.
But I can't stop watching. Damn you, Mom. Making me watch the people and get all angry.
People get smashed and then don't understand why they can't get on a plane with lots of other people in a very little space. And when they're told they need to sober up before they can fly they go into the bar. Because that's an AWESOME place to sober up. Why do you need to be drunk on a plane anyway? I can sort of see it when it's a Bachelorette Party going to Vegas or something like that. But people just flying alone, getting smashed in the bar, early in the morning.
And I love the folks who miss the plane. Do these people ever leave their home? Lots of times people don't understand why a plane didn't wait until they arrived. Like the gate agents were just supposed to hang out knowing in their hearts that this passenger will arrive. If a plane waits for someone who might be getting on then everyone on the plane will be a little late to their destination, maybe missing their connecting flights. The plane will probably then be late taking off again and going to it's next destination, screwing up a whole long line of trips that this particular plane needs to be taking. It's not like the plane flies from Cleveland to LA and then hangs out for a while resting and all that. It's not a flight crew that needs a pit stop between trips. It's a freakin' plane. Unload it, clean it, fill it up, load it up and send that puppy back out! Also, the jackasses who feel the plane should've waited until they moseyed on up? Let's take a moment to picture how they would react if they were ON a plane that was waiting for a lazy late motherfucker. Yeah. Not pretty.
Once, I was flying to or from college and was stuck in LA. Flying standby at busy times often got me stuck in LA. Or wherever. Well, they boarded the plane, made announcements, made a final boarding annoucement, did a seat count, gave away the empty seats to standby passengers and pulled up the jetway, about five minutes or so before the flight's schedule departure time. Some guy and his family came strolling up to the gate and said that was their flight. The gate agent (politely) said the flight was pretty much gone. (Now, on the show, this is the point where the asshole points at the plane out there and insists it be brought back to the gate, opened up, jetway rolled back out and their asses allowed on - making the flight LATE.) The gate agent was really nice at first and seemed concerned that this family missed the flight. He started trying to get them on another flight, trying somehow to get them to their destination at this point. He was dealing with the situation as it was because that plane wasn't coming back. He also seemed concerned that they missed the flight, trying to find out if they were held up at the ticket counter or security. This was a million years ago before you had to show up three hours early just to make it through security (well, that's how it is in New York now at least). The guy started blustering and trying to blame the gate agent and everyone else in the world saying that he got there BEFORE the departure time. The gate agent pointed out that when tickets are purchased (and on the tickets and everywhere else) customers are told they need to be in the gate area 10 minutes prior to departure time. And he was still trying to figure out why this guy was late since he checked in with plenty of time to get to the gate. Finally the guy just says they were wondering around and he didn't have a watch and wasn't paying attention to the time. Though he might've said it in a much more roundabout way. The gate agent still tried to help the guy get on the next flight and and all but wasn't as interested in pacifing the man's bad attitude at that point. And then the man just went nuts. He started yelling and throwing his giant (too big for a carry-on, really sir) bag around. Then gate agent started threatening to call security. It was an amazing spectacle. And I still don't understand that mindset. Really. You fucked up. You were late. Your flight left. Get on the next one. Yeah, it's a few hours later, but deal.
When I heading to Hawai'i from LA one time, around Christmas, I was checking when (like 3 hours early) and a woman came up to check in for a flight that was due to leave in half an hour. Have you seen the security line at LAX? It made me almost cry. It is a horrible, horrible thing. No way was this girl getting through security in even 45 minutes, let alone 20. Anyway, the ticket agent nicely and matter-of-factly told the girl she had missed her flight for all intents and purposes. Even though it was half an hour before departure time. The girl said she knew and was just running late and wanted to see about getting out as soon after as she could. And I almost wanted to run over and kiss her. She was my superhero for the day. And really, she shouldn't be my superhero because that's how people should act.
Ooooh, and the people who get mad when they are on overbooked flights. As we have all seen (haven't we?), not everyone gets on every flight they're booked for. People miss flights, they change their mind at the last minute, things come up, they get an earlier flight, whatever. If an airline only books as many people as they have seats, they're going to lose serious money. Unless they charge you for the seat as soon as you book it, whether you end up in it or not. No refunds, no changing flights, nada. But can you imagine how Jane Entitlement would feel about that? Let's take another moment, shall we? Yes. Anyway, airlines overbook flights to a certain percentage knowing they'll get no-shows. Often this works fine. Other times too many people actually show up. So those of you who wisely showed up & checked in early get on the flight. Those of you without watches, hanging out in the bars, might not. The airline tries to get people to take a later flight offering upgrades, coupons and sometimes hotel stays. And if people take it, the watch-free drunkards (sorry, cranky at these people right now) get on the flight. If not, well, they get put on other flights and life goes on. There's only so much an airline can do. Well, on the show these folks go crazy as if this is an unheard practice. That they've never seen or heard of such a thing. This revelation usually comes after they announce what frequent flyers they are (My Ass!). A few times on the show I've seen people threaten legal action because a flight was overbooked. Hee. Just kills me. Show up to the airport at least an hour or two ahead (depending upon the airport). Reconfirm your flights. Don't get smashed beyond reason a half hour before you flight. All of these things will lead you to a better flying experience. Unless you're me, in which case you'll be on a delayed flight to hell with 17 screaming children. But I'm special.
Anyway, these people piss me off and I'm going to start hiding smelly things in their bags when I see them in airports now. Grrrrr... And don't even get me started on the luggage losing people. Ugh.
But I can't stop watching. Damn you, Mom. Making me watch the people and get all angry.
Corporate Threat
Dude. They're putting x-ray machines in our lobby. Well, last time I was down there they'd put one in. By one of our entrances. They weren't using it or anything, but it was there and they were testing it. It's creepy. I don't want to have to run my bag through an x-ray machine every day. They can't really expect that can they? Maybe it's for non-employees only? I don't know. This is all so weird. I hate working for a big financial company right now. It's scaring me a little and I hate that. It kinda makes me want to move to Indiana and see if I can get back my grandpa's store, or move to Hawai'i and work in a surf shop. I don't want an x-ray machine or two or seven in my office building's lobby.
This amuses me though. I like the little elephant icon. So cute. The convention will be interesting if nothing else. I'm debating taking a day off work to protest. I also kinda just want to work from home and avoid it all. I don't know though. Maybe a little of both. I still can't believe they thought having the RNC here in NYC was a good idea.
This amuses me though. I like the little elephant icon. So cute. The convention will be interesting if nothing else. I'm debating taking a day off work to protest. I also kinda just want to work from home and avoid it all. I don't know though. Maybe a little of both. I still can't believe they thought having the RNC here in NYC was a good idea.
Saturday, July 31, 2004
Old Men at McDonalds
I just watched an episode of the Gilmore Girls - first season DVD from Pumpkin, yay - the one where Rory's grandfather takes her to the club to teach her how to play golf and show her off. And it made me miss my grandfather so much. He went to McDonald's every weekday morning. He and his buddies would gather and chat over coffee. They got the senior's discount, less than fifty cents a cup with free refills. Whenever I'd visit I'd go with him. I hated getting up so early to get out there while I was on vacation, but it seemed to mean so much to him that I had to do it. How can you let your grandfather down like that?
He'd always tell them what I was up to and make me discuss some class I was taking (he loved making me tell them about "the gay class" I took at Wesleyan) or mention where I worked. In recent years I'd often be hit up for stock tips or asked if the economy was improving or little things like that. Sometimes they'd ask me about New York or my mom. I'd go for refills for everyone and his friends would say how polite I was and he'd just beam. Sometimes he'd buy me breakfast if I didn't get up in time to have cinnamon raisin toast with him beforehad. And of course he'd give me a hard time about it. I always offered to pay, but he wouldn't hear of it. One of the last times I visited, a rental car screw up ended with me having a bright red truck for the trip. He loved it. Thought it was great and insisted on going everywhere in it, even though it probably wasn't easy for him to get in and out of it. And he pointed it out to all of his friends in McDonald's. His granddaughter was driving a badass truck. It was just such a grandfatherly thing, those trips to McDonald's. And it made me so happy to know that he was proud of me and that he wanted to show me off and talk about me. It's really nice to feel that loved. Especially by someone I loved so much.
I'm so grateful that I got to have those trips to McDonald's with him. I really am. But right now I think I'd give anything to be able to do it again. I hate knowing that I never will.
He'd always tell them what I was up to and make me discuss some class I was taking (he loved making me tell them about "the gay class" I took at Wesleyan) or mention where I worked. In recent years I'd often be hit up for stock tips or asked if the economy was improving or little things like that. Sometimes they'd ask me about New York or my mom. I'd go for refills for everyone and his friends would say how polite I was and he'd just beam. Sometimes he'd buy me breakfast if I didn't get up in time to have cinnamon raisin toast with him beforehad. And of course he'd give me a hard time about it. I always offered to pay, but he wouldn't hear of it. One of the last times I visited, a rental car screw up ended with me having a bright red truck for the trip. He loved it. Thought it was great and insisted on going everywhere in it, even though it probably wasn't easy for him to get in and out of it. And he pointed it out to all of his friends in McDonald's. His granddaughter was driving a badass truck. It was just such a grandfatherly thing, those trips to McDonald's. And it made me so happy to know that he was proud of me and that he wanted to show me off and talk about me. It's really nice to feel that loved. Especially by someone I loved so much.
I'm so grateful that I got to have those trips to McDonald's with him. I really am. But right now I think I'd give anything to be able to do it again. I hate knowing that I never will.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
ARGH
The latest search leading to my blog is "ended up a spinster". Seriously. The world hates me. I want to go back to being a dirty blog that people found because they wanted to be undressed in front of their auntie or wanted to see topless boys. This spinster thing is pissing me off. Grrrrr....
So, Dad and I want to be on The Amazing Race. Because we are awesome and we would kick ass. And frankly, the way this season is going, they need us. How can you go on a show called The Amazing Race and not have the ability to read a map? I don't understand that. Anyway, they're taking applications, but you have to get a video to them by August 11th. He's in Guam. I'm in New York. It's July 28th. We gotta figure something out. I'm going to try to persuade him to fly to New York for a day so that we can do a video. Seriously, we would be awesome for this show.
He's a little worried though as they just had a military dad/flighty daughter team and they weren't very exciting. And apparently had no idea how airports work. But I think we should downplay that aspect in our application and play up pilot dad more and the whole living together for a couple years thing and some of those funny stories. As well as our DisneyWorld obsession and visits. And we don't have a lot of drama, but I think we can play up some fun stories from when we lived together. Like how he kept trying to make sure I'd get to work on time. It felt as if I was 14 and dawdling on my way to school. So I finally started yelling, "I'm 25 years old. I have been getting myself to work, earning my pay and paying my bills for years now. I think I can continue to do so." Or something to that effect. And for years afterwards he would mess with me by just mumbling, "I'm 25 years old..." Or the fight we had the first time I stayed out all night when we were living together. How he felt I should call if I was going to do that and stuff. I think we can get on.
If we can just get that tape made...
Oh wait. What if they don't take spinsters?!?!?!
So, Dad and I want to be on The Amazing Race. Because we are awesome and we would kick ass. And frankly, the way this season is going, they need us. How can you go on a show called The Amazing Race and not have the ability to read a map? I don't understand that. Anyway, they're taking applications, but you have to get a video to them by August 11th. He's in Guam. I'm in New York. It's July 28th. We gotta figure something out. I'm going to try to persuade him to fly to New York for a day so that we can do a video. Seriously, we would be awesome for this show.
He's a little worried though as they just had a military dad/flighty daughter team and they weren't very exciting. And apparently had no idea how airports work. But I think we should downplay that aspect in our application and play up pilot dad more and the whole living together for a couple years thing and some of those funny stories. As well as our DisneyWorld obsession and visits. And we don't have a lot of drama, but I think we can play up some fun stories from when we lived together. Like how he kept trying to make sure I'd get to work on time. It felt as if I was 14 and dawdling on my way to school. So I finally started yelling, "I'm 25 years old. I have been getting myself to work, earning my pay and paying my bills for years now. I think I can continue to do so." Or something to that effect. And for years afterwards he would mess with me by just mumbling, "I'm 25 years old..." Or the fight we had the first time I stayed out all night when we were living together. How he felt I should call if I was going to do that and stuff. I think we can get on.
If we can just get that tape made...
Oh wait. What if they don't take spinsters?!?!?!
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Not Possible
Turnip sent me a quiz to take. Apparently she is 23.66864% "geek". I ended up with 30.17751% - "Total Geek". I don't understand how it's possible for me to be even that geeky let alone to be geekier than her. So unfair. I think she must've lied on the quiz.
I Don’t Actually Hate LA (PART II)
Oh, as a little addition to Part I; Turnip was waitlisted at Wesleyan. Heh. No big deal. She wanted Brown anyway. It’s not like she isn’t a smartie. She is. It was just a thing that has nothing to do with anything really. But she and a bunch of her Brown friends were over at a Wesleyan friend of mine’s apartment hanging out with me. And for some reason it came up that all of them (except maybe Turnip’s boyfriend at the time?) had been waitlisted at Wesleyan - but all got into Brown. And they just looked at my friend and I as if they wanted to rumble or something. It was kinda funny. So she and I sorta mock fight about it from time to time. She taunts me about Brown being an Ivy League school while Wesleyan is not and I taunt her about being waitlisted at Wesleyan. We’re both intelligent and fairly secure people so this isn’t as mean as it might sound. Anyway, we were having this little debate in the booth at CSU Los Angeles on Saturday. And the board op asked us where we went to school. And we sheepishly told her. And she was all, ‘I don’t know what y’all are fighting about, those are both good schools.’ And we felt snooty and superior and silly. Which is not unusual for us. Just made me laugh. Sorry.
So, we left off with our heroines asleep in bed. The alarm got us up too early because we had to get pretty in time for 10:30AM brunch. And we were very pretty. In breasty outfits and everything. Boobs for brunch.
On Saturday’s walk to breakfast we started walking past this beautiful building. I asked Turnip what it was and she just started laughing. Then she told me it was the Scientology Celebrity Center in Hollywood. And indeed it was. Indeed. Later in the day she told me she thought they had brunches there. So we looked it up online and indeed they do. Sunday Brunch at the Manor Hotel. I guess The Renaissance Restaurant is a four star restaurant. We KNEW we had to go. A few people expressed interest but only GhettoBoy actually agreed to meet us that morning. Sadly he overslept. But we called him enough times to wake him up and convince him he was worth waiting for. So he came on by and we walked over to the Center.
The building really is beautiful. As are the grounds. Some helpful valets pointed us toward the brunch and we paid and were seated. We ordered juice and coffee but for some reason only GhettoBoy got coffee. Maybe it’s not ladylike in the world of Scientology to drink coffee? Luckily Turnip is forceful and got me my coffee. Then we attacked the buffet. The food was really good. I had decent waffles and cheese and fruit and petit fours and croissant and some different salads and a deviled egg and other such stuff. Sadly the mushroom crepes had chicken in them because they looked good. Ah well.
The area where we were seated was lovely. We were outside on the lawn with the entertainment gazebo. A trio was playing. The singer had effects on her mike and a pedal to work them - so sayeth my tech geek companions. The drummer and keyboardist were just goofy. And they were massacring some really good songs. But it was fun. It looked like there were several regulars who knew the trio and each other and the waiters and hosts and things. We were totally the outsiders. I was seated facing the building and kept spotting people in upper windows. I think Turnip and GhettoBoy doubted me though.
After brunch we headed inside to explore the building a little and to pop by the bookstore. I wanted to see if they had a postcard I could send Mom. I knew she’d be proud. GhettoBoy and Turnip were total chickens though. Silly. The scientologists seemed perfectly nice at that point. But then the trio started destroying Black Velvet and we all ran inside.
The bookstore was tiny and GhettoBoy and Turnip sorta hung out at the entrance. I did no such thing. A very nice man named John who worked there introduced himself and started chatting with me. They did not have postcards but they had lots of Hubbard’s non-fiction. He told me a little about the store and the building and said there were tours available. He also mentioned some enneagram machine they had that could read my thoughts if I wanted to try that. I told him that would be a bad idea and asked where I could get a tour. GhettoBoy and Turnip did NOT stab me at this point. So really, their future pain is now all on their heads and not mine.
John locked up the bookstore and took us to a little office area. A pretty blonde was sitting at a desk and John told us she would give us a tour of the building. They just needed to grab this guy who would watch the desk for her. In the meantime they had us fill out forms. I think my buddies gave fake names and addresses. I gave them my Mom’s. Because I’m a bitch. Just in case you hadn’t picked that up by now. It appears that we didn’t quite measure up in the office because the pretty blonde ended up staying with the desk while a very friendly, but obviously inexperienced (and maybe not so bright?) guy was made our guide. Poor guy. I can’t even remember his name. Bad me.
He took us back towards the bookstore area. And read us a quote in a frame on the wall which I think was, “A culture is only as great as its dreams and its dreams are dreamed by artists.” I’m not entirely certain though. It was something about culture being influenced by art/artists. Then he told us that artists influence all of our culture. For instance the clothes we wear. That’s determined not only by the designers and manufacturers who create the clothing we wear but the celebrities who decide to wear that clothing. Yup. What Paris Hilton wears affects the WORLD. Ahem. Then he asked if we were familiar with Star Trek: the Original Series. We all were. As are you. Of course. He started talking about communicators and tricorders and how they were folded and kept on belts and things and how NOW we have folding cell phones that clip onto our belts and things. ART influencing CULTURE. Turnip was almost losing it the whole time. GhettoBoy and I mastered the smiling and nodding at this point. Which was good.
Our tour guide then talked about how Scientology helps people. Like drug addicts. But mentioned that there wasn’t a way to help the perverts. I think Turnip looked at me at this point, but I’m sure there wasn’t any meaning to that. Right? Yes. Poor perverts. No room at the Scientology Inn.
Then he took us into the bookstore. He kept trying to tell us that Hubbard’s teachings were here but not… um, not the other stuff, the um… This went on for a while until I was able to supply the word FICTION for him. Hubbard’s FICTION was not for sale in the Center’s bookstore. We were off to a promising start. Then, he started to tell us a little about Dianetics. By lecturing to us from the cover of a Dianetics picture book. He didn’t even open the book. Just pointed at things on the cover while talking to us. The Cover. Of a PICTURE BOOK. Just wanted to make sure that was clear.
Now, it seemed like someone tried to explain to him about root words and their meanings but he didn’t quite get it all. If you look on the Celebrity Center site they mention the Greek words dia (through) and nous (soul) in reference to dianetics. We were informed that Dian was through and Etics (yes, etics) meant mind. So Dianetics meant through the mind. Yes, that’s what he told us. I’m trying hard now to not read the site because I don’t want the actual definitions to cloud my retelling of the story. So, after our word lesson he pointed to the drawings on the cover of the picture book. One was of a woman having a skiing accident. The next was the woman walking past a ski store, seeing skis and feeling pain in her elbow. I think the next was her using the enneagram machine. And then the last was her looking all happy. I’m not entirely sure what we were supposed to be getting from all of that. It really wasn’t made clear. As I said, it was like he’d been given the tour lecture a few times but didn’t really grasp it. I think he was trying to get at sense memory and all, but, I just don’t know.
Next we moved to the Scientology picture book cover. Now, according the website scio is Latin for ‘know’ and logos is Greek for “the word or outward form by which the inward thought is expressed and made known.” Yeah. Our guide told us that Scient was truth and Ology was study so Scientology is the study of truth or truth in study. Yeah. He seemed a bit confused over it all and didn’t dwell on scient - ology for very long. Scient. I don’t know. I can’t decide if Scient or Etics is my new favorite word. Maybe we should have a poll!
He then tried to put that personal touch on Scientology. Letting us (a group with very interesting religious theories and backgrounds) know that Scientology wouldn’t interfere with our religious backgrounds. He was raised Christian and that didn’t interfere with his becoming a Scientologist. And his mother-in-law’s family was ‘very into being Jewish’ (the hell?) and are also Scientologists. Next he started blathering about Buddhist Monks who came to visit and study at the center and bring back the ideas and philosophies to their temple. Seriously. I didn’t even know what to say. But that wrapped up our time in the bookstore. Our guide led us out into the hall. GhettoBoy and Turnip tried to hide in the bookstore. GhettoBoy claims he got trapped by John. I don’t believe him. They were hiding in there. But I just had our guide stop while I went back in and got their sorry asses.
So we walked back towards the office and stopped in the lobby area. Lots of fat old men were sleeping in chairs there. It gave it kind of a weird atmosphere. I was all excited at this point because he actually started talking about the pretty building itself. Yay! Once upon a time it was a resort hotel (according to our guide, according to the website it was a luxury hotel/apartment house). The Scientologists bought it and restored it in the 80’s or 90’s, our guide wasn’t clear, and currently use it for classes and weddings and the restaurant and all. I think guests can stay there, but he was very vague about that. He then started talking about movies that had filmed there like 48 Hours and Austin Powers. He kept having a hard time remembering Dr. Evil’s name. I don’t know why. It’s freakin’ Dr. Evil.
That was all very brief. Then he took us over to the elevator. We waited there for an elevator that came but was going down. Then it came but was too full. Then it came back and was again too full. Lots of scientologists with binders bustling around us getting off and on the elevators for class. Anyway, during this time he asked how much time we had to spend there. We said we only had a little while longer (mostly true) and couldn’t stay for the day or anything. GhettoBoy said he had to plan a camping trip with friends. It was the truth, but sounded kinda lame. Turnip and I figured he could’ve lied or joined in on our reason. More fun that way. She and I told him we had to catch a show later. He asked what show and we told him; a techno opera of Paradise Lost. We weren’t even lying. That is indeed where Turnip took me later. He said he thought he’d heard of that before. Well, yes. Paradise Lost is an epic poem of which most high school English students have heard, yes? Maybe? He asked who it was by and we said Milton. He looked at us quizzically and said “Milton Eskowitz?” I don’t know if it was exactly Eskowitz but it was a last name that started with an e and ended with a z and had some kind of hard sound like k in it. And I like Eskowitz. I could probably spell it better though. Not important. We all stared in stunned silence for a minute until someone mentioned that Milton was his last name. And being the brain trust we are it took us a minute to come up with his first name. I like to believe it was the shock that made us forget JOHN. Let’s go with that. Yeah. Finally GhettoBoy asked if there were stairs we could take. Since it didn’t look good for the elevator. He seemed flustered and said he wanted to show us the view of Hollywood from the roof (which sounded awesome) and some other thing. He wouldn’t tell us what this ‘other thing’ was. Seriously. Kept being vague about it. Intentionally vague this time and not just uncertain and unclear.
So, he gave up on the elevator and said he’d show us something else. We started down into the basement. As we approached the stairs our guide started talking about The Count of Monte Crisco. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant The Cask of Amontillado (not sure why), but either way, neither is what you want to be thinking of when a strange man starts taking you to the basement. I, of course, happily followed him down, all excited about my experiences in the Center. According to Turnip later, GhettoBoy sorta balked at the top of the stairs and had to be coaxed down. Hee. Can’t blame the man.
If you take the virtual tour and go into the basement (following a side door off the lobby), you can see what the basement halls look like with awful faux something or other. Faux stone and brick (yes, both) poking through the walls and things like that. I think you were supposed to feel like you were in some quaint European alley and not a basement. And I have no idea why. I think that’s why he was talking about The Count of Monte Crisco but I’m not entirely sure.
He then took us into this theatre in the basement. It was just a dinky little basement theatre. Tiny without much equipment. This is when I learned that I was with two snooty little theatre snobs. Heh. Our guide was all proud of the theatre and was talking about how they have lights and the lights are operated from the booth at the back of the audience. GhettoBoy totally gets bitch face on and says in the haughtiest manner possible, something along the lines of, “We’re familiar with the theater.” Heh. It was awesome. Turnip was looking smug until that point at which I really thought she was going to burst into hysterical laughter. (I’m very proud of you for not doing that, doll.)
Also, during the tour there was a lot of addressing others by name - attempting to give us the feeling that this was one big happy family. This was most obvious in the chatter with the folks who were sitting in the theatre waiting for a class to start. It probably wouldn’t have worked on us anyway, but it was especially bad after our guide tried introducing us to someone at the elevators. The first part of Turnip’s actual name is the same as GhettoBoy’s name, though with a different spelling. My name does not share the same letters or even sounds with either of their names. In our introduction to this fellow scientology family member our guide got GhettoBoy’s name right, gave Turnip’s name a different ending and somehow decided that I had the same name as GhettoBoy. Yeah. We felt loved.
Anyway, after the theatre our guide said he wanted to show us one more thing. Still in the basement. As we walked down the hall he started talking about acid flashbacks and how this place can help with those. I think GhettoBoy was thinking that he liked acid flashbacks and was wondering why you’d want to get rid of them. I may be wrong on that. Then our guide mentioned that the reason people get the DTs (though that’s not what he called them, he just kinda described them) wasn’t because people were craving drugs but because the drugs were still in their system. Just hanging out. Making people feel bad. He also said that was why people had acid flashbacks. The LSD was still hiding in their system. Yes. That’s what he said. Then he started listing drugs. He left off a bunch as GhettoBoy and I compared later. Like X. And Crystal Meth. For shame.
So, then he took us into the exercise room. It looked just like a small hotel exercise room. Some machines, some weights, some towels. Nothing exciting. Apparently anyone can use it. It’s only $5 a day for non-members. And something like $365 for a whole year. He then started talking about the program or process. I can’t remember which word he used, but they both make me happy so I often switch off when telling this tale.
You take a bunch of vitamins. I remember B3 being an important one. Then you come and work out and sweat a lot. Then we went across the hall to the sauna/steam room section. We stood in the main room near the door. And I don’t remember every detail of the lecture because a hot chick in a bikini kept coming in and out of the room. She was way more interesting than our guide. The guide didn’t seem to be checking her out though. Which was odd. But he did keep looking at what Turnip & my breasty shirts were showing. Kinda unnerving. Um, anyway. I’ll do my best to recall everything. Because I think this was really my favorite part. Oh, you can also see the sauna room on the virtual tour as well.
After exercise you take ‘some oils that the body really likes’. No, he did not specify what oils. Just that the body really liked them. And you take them. Then you go and sweat. And if you’re on the program you sweat 3-5 hours a day. And it gets bad stuff out. Like this one guy he knew about. When he was in high school he wrote “I Love Sally” on his chest in sunscreen and then went out and got a sunburn so that you could see the words on the not burned part of his chest. Well, he went through the process with a friend and while they were in the sauna his friend said, “Hey, I thought your wife’s name was Megan?” Apparently the ‘radiation’ was coming out of his body and you could see the words on his chest again. I’m guessing that was the non-‘radiated’ part of his body. Then the guide told us that he’d never done “street drugs” but has had extensive dental surgery. When he does the program his jaw area swells up.
Then he asked us if we were familiar with Ground Zero. I have to say that I really tensed up about this. Not something to get into now, but any mention of 9/11, WTC, Ground Zero, any of that, tends to make me a little sensitive. I’m still really raw about it even after all this time. And I think I was gearing up for a fight if he said anything to upset me. But this was all too dumb to get upset over. Still, I was really unsure of how this was all going to go. But yes, we told him we were ‘familiar’ with Ground Zero. He started talking about the folks who worked there and how they got lots of bad stuff inside of them. I guess breathing in debris from the destruction of two enormous towers isn’t good for you. Go figure. Anyway, they built a facility in New York or Jersey or something so the workers from Ground Zero could go through the process. One guy was going through it and sitting in the sauna with a towel over his shoulders. When he came out and took the towel off it was all purple. Then our guide asked us, “Do you know what rebar is?” I think we almost all lost it then. Yes, we were familiar with rebar. ‘Apparently that’s not good for the body.’ Yes, boys and girls, it’s not good to inhale STEEL. Just so you know. Also, when you do inhale it and then sweat it out, it apparently comes out in purple form. I just have no words. We spent the whole rest of the weekend asking each other if we knew what rebar was. Because it’s fucking funny.
Then he started telling us that once you’ve gone through the program you don’t ever need to do it again. I don’t think it’s what he was trying to say, but what came out was that basically even if you start taking drugs again you still don’t need to go back on the program, it’s just that good. Awesome. He did say that they recommend you kind of take care of yourself and don’t eat at McDonald’s all the time. GhettoBoy agreed that that was good advice for anyone.
At this point we begged to be freed and he walked us quickly outside and around the grounds (very pretty) to the parking lot. He mentioned that there was a free lecture coming up on bad things you shouldn’t put in your body like NutraSweet and the whole NutraSweet conspiracy and we should check it out. And then we fled. We almost made it to the sidewalk without cracking up. I had to ask GhettoBoy what he thought he’d sweat out. He thought it might be ‘black sludge’. Turnip had suggestions on what might be sweated out of me, but they were inappropriate and completely untrue.
I think this program is mentioned on the Scientology site as Narcon and has a bit of a different description than the one our guide gave us. But I like his version best.
It was so awesome I still cannot stand it. I recommend the brunch and tour to anyone living in or visiting LA. It’s an amazing time. With good food too.
I’m now tired and will do Part III later.
So, we left off with our heroines asleep in bed. The alarm got us up too early because we had to get pretty in time for 10:30AM brunch. And we were very pretty. In breasty outfits and everything. Boobs for brunch.
On Saturday’s walk to breakfast we started walking past this beautiful building. I asked Turnip what it was and she just started laughing. Then she told me it was the Scientology Celebrity Center in Hollywood. And indeed it was. Indeed. Later in the day she told me she thought they had brunches there. So we looked it up online and indeed they do. Sunday Brunch at the Manor Hotel. I guess The Renaissance Restaurant is a four star restaurant. We KNEW we had to go. A few people expressed interest but only GhettoBoy actually agreed to meet us that morning. Sadly he overslept. But we called him enough times to wake him up and convince him he was worth waiting for. So he came on by and we walked over to the Center.
The building really is beautiful. As are the grounds. Some helpful valets pointed us toward the brunch and we paid and were seated. We ordered juice and coffee but for some reason only GhettoBoy got coffee. Maybe it’s not ladylike in the world of Scientology to drink coffee? Luckily Turnip is forceful and got me my coffee. Then we attacked the buffet. The food was really good. I had decent waffles and cheese and fruit and petit fours and croissant and some different salads and a deviled egg and other such stuff. Sadly the mushroom crepes had chicken in them because they looked good. Ah well.
The area where we were seated was lovely. We were outside on the lawn with the entertainment gazebo. A trio was playing. The singer had effects on her mike and a pedal to work them - so sayeth my tech geek companions. The drummer and keyboardist were just goofy. And they were massacring some really good songs. But it was fun. It looked like there were several regulars who knew the trio and each other and the waiters and hosts and things. We were totally the outsiders. I was seated facing the building and kept spotting people in upper windows. I think Turnip and GhettoBoy doubted me though.
After brunch we headed inside to explore the building a little and to pop by the bookstore. I wanted to see if they had a postcard I could send Mom. I knew she’d be proud. GhettoBoy and Turnip were total chickens though. Silly. The scientologists seemed perfectly nice at that point. But then the trio started destroying Black Velvet and we all ran inside.
The bookstore was tiny and GhettoBoy and Turnip sorta hung out at the entrance. I did no such thing. A very nice man named John who worked there introduced himself and started chatting with me. They did not have postcards but they had lots of Hubbard’s non-fiction. He told me a little about the store and the building and said there were tours available. He also mentioned some enneagram machine they had that could read my thoughts if I wanted to try that. I told him that would be a bad idea and asked where I could get a tour. GhettoBoy and Turnip did NOT stab me at this point. So really, their future pain is now all on their heads and not mine.
John locked up the bookstore and took us to a little office area. A pretty blonde was sitting at a desk and John told us she would give us a tour of the building. They just needed to grab this guy who would watch the desk for her. In the meantime they had us fill out forms. I think my buddies gave fake names and addresses. I gave them my Mom’s. Because I’m a bitch. Just in case you hadn’t picked that up by now. It appears that we didn’t quite measure up in the office because the pretty blonde ended up staying with the desk while a very friendly, but obviously inexperienced (and maybe not so bright?) guy was made our guide. Poor guy. I can’t even remember his name. Bad me.
He took us back towards the bookstore area. And read us a quote in a frame on the wall which I think was, “A culture is only as great as its dreams and its dreams are dreamed by artists.” I’m not entirely certain though. It was something about culture being influenced by art/artists. Then he told us that artists influence all of our culture. For instance the clothes we wear. That’s determined not only by the designers and manufacturers who create the clothing we wear but the celebrities who decide to wear that clothing. Yup. What Paris Hilton wears affects the WORLD. Ahem. Then he asked if we were familiar with Star Trek: the Original Series. We all were. As are you. Of course. He started talking about communicators and tricorders and how they were folded and kept on belts and things and how NOW we have folding cell phones that clip onto our belts and things. ART influencing CULTURE. Turnip was almost losing it the whole time. GhettoBoy and I mastered the smiling and nodding at this point. Which was good.
Our tour guide then talked about how Scientology helps people. Like drug addicts. But mentioned that there wasn’t a way to help the perverts. I think Turnip looked at me at this point, but I’m sure there wasn’t any meaning to that. Right? Yes. Poor perverts. No room at the Scientology Inn.
Then he took us into the bookstore. He kept trying to tell us that Hubbard’s teachings were here but not… um, not the other stuff, the um… This went on for a while until I was able to supply the word FICTION for him. Hubbard’s FICTION was not for sale in the Center’s bookstore. We were off to a promising start. Then, he started to tell us a little about Dianetics. By lecturing to us from the cover of a Dianetics picture book. He didn’t even open the book. Just pointed at things on the cover while talking to us. The Cover. Of a PICTURE BOOK. Just wanted to make sure that was clear.
Now, it seemed like someone tried to explain to him about root words and their meanings but he didn’t quite get it all. If you look on the Celebrity Center site they mention the Greek words dia (through) and nous (soul) in reference to dianetics. We were informed that Dian was through and Etics (yes, etics) meant mind. So Dianetics meant through the mind. Yes, that’s what he told us. I’m trying hard now to not read the site because I don’t want the actual definitions to cloud my retelling of the story. So, after our word lesson he pointed to the drawings on the cover of the picture book. One was of a woman having a skiing accident. The next was the woman walking past a ski store, seeing skis and feeling pain in her elbow. I think the next was her using the enneagram machine. And then the last was her looking all happy. I’m not entirely sure what we were supposed to be getting from all of that. It really wasn’t made clear. As I said, it was like he’d been given the tour lecture a few times but didn’t really grasp it. I think he was trying to get at sense memory and all, but, I just don’t know.
Next we moved to the Scientology picture book cover. Now, according the website scio is Latin for ‘know’ and logos is Greek for “the word or outward form by which the inward thought is expressed and made known.” Yeah. Our guide told us that Scient was truth and Ology was study so Scientology is the study of truth or truth in study. Yeah. He seemed a bit confused over it all and didn’t dwell on scient - ology for very long. Scient. I don’t know. I can’t decide if Scient or Etics is my new favorite word. Maybe we should have a poll!
He then tried to put that personal touch on Scientology. Letting us (a group with very interesting religious theories and backgrounds) know that Scientology wouldn’t interfere with our religious backgrounds. He was raised Christian and that didn’t interfere with his becoming a Scientologist. And his mother-in-law’s family was ‘very into being Jewish’ (the hell?) and are also Scientologists. Next he started blathering about Buddhist Monks who came to visit and study at the center and bring back the ideas and philosophies to their temple. Seriously. I didn’t even know what to say. But that wrapped up our time in the bookstore. Our guide led us out into the hall. GhettoBoy and Turnip tried to hide in the bookstore. GhettoBoy claims he got trapped by John. I don’t believe him. They were hiding in there. But I just had our guide stop while I went back in and got their sorry asses.
So we walked back towards the office and stopped in the lobby area. Lots of fat old men were sleeping in chairs there. It gave it kind of a weird atmosphere. I was all excited at this point because he actually started talking about the pretty building itself. Yay! Once upon a time it was a resort hotel (according to our guide, according to the website it was a luxury hotel/apartment house). The Scientologists bought it and restored it in the 80’s or 90’s, our guide wasn’t clear, and currently use it for classes and weddings and the restaurant and all. I think guests can stay there, but he was very vague about that. He then started talking about movies that had filmed there like 48 Hours and Austin Powers. He kept having a hard time remembering Dr. Evil’s name. I don’t know why. It’s freakin’ Dr. Evil.
That was all very brief. Then he took us over to the elevator. We waited there for an elevator that came but was going down. Then it came but was too full. Then it came back and was again too full. Lots of scientologists with binders bustling around us getting off and on the elevators for class. Anyway, during this time he asked how much time we had to spend there. We said we only had a little while longer (mostly true) and couldn’t stay for the day or anything. GhettoBoy said he had to plan a camping trip with friends. It was the truth, but sounded kinda lame. Turnip and I figured he could’ve lied or joined in on our reason. More fun that way. She and I told him we had to catch a show later. He asked what show and we told him; a techno opera of Paradise Lost. We weren’t even lying. That is indeed where Turnip took me later. He said he thought he’d heard of that before. Well, yes. Paradise Lost is an epic poem of which most high school English students have heard, yes? Maybe? He asked who it was by and we said Milton. He looked at us quizzically and said “Milton Eskowitz?” I don’t know if it was exactly Eskowitz but it was a last name that started with an e and ended with a z and had some kind of hard sound like k in it. And I like Eskowitz. I could probably spell it better though. Not important. We all stared in stunned silence for a minute until someone mentioned that Milton was his last name. And being the brain trust we are it took us a minute to come up with his first name. I like to believe it was the shock that made us forget JOHN. Let’s go with that. Yeah. Finally GhettoBoy asked if there were stairs we could take. Since it didn’t look good for the elevator. He seemed flustered and said he wanted to show us the view of Hollywood from the roof (which sounded awesome) and some other thing. He wouldn’t tell us what this ‘other thing’ was. Seriously. Kept being vague about it. Intentionally vague this time and not just uncertain and unclear.
So, he gave up on the elevator and said he’d show us something else. We started down into the basement. As we approached the stairs our guide started talking about The Count of Monte Crisco. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant The Cask of Amontillado (not sure why), but either way, neither is what you want to be thinking of when a strange man starts taking you to the basement. I, of course, happily followed him down, all excited about my experiences in the Center. According to Turnip later, GhettoBoy sorta balked at the top of the stairs and had to be coaxed down. Hee. Can’t blame the man.
If you take the virtual tour and go into the basement (following a side door off the lobby), you can see what the basement halls look like with awful faux something or other. Faux stone and brick (yes, both) poking through the walls and things like that. I think you were supposed to feel like you were in some quaint European alley and not a basement. And I have no idea why. I think that’s why he was talking about The Count of Monte Crisco but I’m not entirely sure.
He then took us into this theatre in the basement. It was just a dinky little basement theatre. Tiny without much equipment. This is when I learned that I was with two snooty little theatre snobs. Heh. Our guide was all proud of the theatre and was talking about how they have lights and the lights are operated from the booth at the back of the audience. GhettoBoy totally gets bitch face on and says in the haughtiest manner possible, something along the lines of, “We’re familiar with the theater.” Heh. It was awesome. Turnip was looking smug until that point at which I really thought she was going to burst into hysterical laughter. (I’m very proud of you for not doing that, doll.)
Also, during the tour there was a lot of addressing others by name - attempting to give us the feeling that this was one big happy family. This was most obvious in the chatter with the folks who were sitting in the theatre waiting for a class to start. It probably wouldn’t have worked on us anyway, but it was especially bad after our guide tried introducing us to someone at the elevators. The first part of Turnip’s actual name is the same as GhettoBoy’s name, though with a different spelling. My name does not share the same letters or even sounds with either of their names. In our introduction to this fellow scientology family member our guide got GhettoBoy’s name right, gave Turnip’s name a different ending and somehow decided that I had the same name as GhettoBoy. Yeah. We felt loved.
Anyway, after the theatre our guide said he wanted to show us one more thing. Still in the basement. As we walked down the hall he started talking about acid flashbacks and how this place can help with those. I think GhettoBoy was thinking that he liked acid flashbacks and was wondering why you’d want to get rid of them. I may be wrong on that. Then our guide mentioned that the reason people get the DTs (though that’s not what he called them, he just kinda described them) wasn’t because people were craving drugs but because the drugs were still in their system. Just hanging out. Making people feel bad. He also said that was why people had acid flashbacks. The LSD was still hiding in their system. Yes. That’s what he said. Then he started listing drugs. He left off a bunch as GhettoBoy and I compared later. Like X. And Crystal Meth. For shame.
So, then he took us into the exercise room. It looked just like a small hotel exercise room. Some machines, some weights, some towels. Nothing exciting. Apparently anyone can use it. It’s only $5 a day for non-members. And something like $365 for a whole year. He then started talking about the program or process. I can’t remember which word he used, but they both make me happy so I often switch off when telling this tale.
You take a bunch of vitamins. I remember B3 being an important one. Then you come and work out and sweat a lot. Then we went across the hall to the sauna/steam room section. We stood in the main room near the door. And I don’t remember every detail of the lecture because a hot chick in a bikini kept coming in and out of the room. She was way more interesting than our guide. The guide didn’t seem to be checking her out though. Which was odd. But he did keep looking at what Turnip & my breasty shirts were showing. Kinda unnerving. Um, anyway. I’ll do my best to recall everything. Because I think this was really my favorite part. Oh, you can also see the sauna room on the virtual tour as well.
After exercise you take ‘some oils that the body really likes’. No, he did not specify what oils. Just that the body really liked them. And you take them. Then you go and sweat. And if you’re on the program you sweat 3-5 hours a day. And it gets bad stuff out. Like this one guy he knew about. When he was in high school he wrote “I Love Sally” on his chest in sunscreen and then went out and got a sunburn so that you could see the words on the not burned part of his chest. Well, he went through the process with a friend and while they were in the sauna his friend said, “Hey, I thought your wife’s name was Megan?” Apparently the ‘radiation’ was coming out of his body and you could see the words on his chest again. I’m guessing that was the non-‘radiated’ part of his body. Then the guide told us that he’d never done “street drugs” but has had extensive dental surgery. When he does the program his jaw area swells up.
Then he asked us if we were familiar with Ground Zero. I have to say that I really tensed up about this. Not something to get into now, but any mention of 9/11, WTC, Ground Zero, any of that, tends to make me a little sensitive. I’m still really raw about it even after all this time. And I think I was gearing up for a fight if he said anything to upset me. But this was all too dumb to get upset over. Still, I was really unsure of how this was all going to go. But yes, we told him we were ‘familiar’ with Ground Zero. He started talking about the folks who worked there and how they got lots of bad stuff inside of them. I guess breathing in debris from the destruction of two enormous towers isn’t good for you. Go figure. Anyway, they built a facility in New York or Jersey or something so the workers from Ground Zero could go through the process. One guy was going through it and sitting in the sauna with a towel over his shoulders. When he came out and took the towel off it was all purple. Then our guide asked us, “Do you know what rebar is?” I think we almost all lost it then. Yes, we were familiar with rebar. ‘Apparently that’s not good for the body.’ Yes, boys and girls, it’s not good to inhale STEEL. Just so you know. Also, when you do inhale it and then sweat it out, it apparently comes out in purple form. I just have no words. We spent the whole rest of the weekend asking each other if we knew what rebar was. Because it’s fucking funny.
Then he started telling us that once you’ve gone through the program you don’t ever need to do it again. I don’t think it’s what he was trying to say, but what came out was that basically even if you start taking drugs again you still don’t need to go back on the program, it’s just that good. Awesome. He did say that they recommend you kind of take care of yourself and don’t eat at McDonald’s all the time. GhettoBoy agreed that that was good advice for anyone.
At this point we begged to be freed and he walked us quickly outside and around the grounds (very pretty) to the parking lot. He mentioned that there was a free lecture coming up on bad things you shouldn’t put in your body like NutraSweet and the whole NutraSweet conspiracy and we should check it out. And then we fled. We almost made it to the sidewalk without cracking up. I had to ask GhettoBoy what he thought he’d sweat out. He thought it might be ‘black sludge’. Turnip had suggestions on what might be sweated out of me, but they were inappropriate and completely untrue.
I think this program is mentioned on the Scientology site as Narcon and has a bit of a different description than the one our guide gave us. But I like his version best.
It was so awesome I still cannot stand it. I recommend the brunch and tour to anyone living in or visiting LA. It’s an amazing time. With good food too.
I’m now tired and will do Part III later.
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