Monday, June 27, 2005

laptops are a back-breaker

My flight was delayed for about an hour last night in LAX. That was after the United Airlines clerk screamed at all of us in the self check-in line for being morons. Soothed by the greasy goodness of McDonald's french fries straight from the bag, I sat down on the filthy terminal carpet and pulled out the laptop I took with me so I don't lose my job this week. Holy Jesus, is that a pain in the neck. After mere minutes, my neck was stiff, my shoulders were in spasms, my hunt-and-peck middle fingers were locked up all splayed. Thank God the battery ran down after only 30 minutes.

Just trying to board the plane, an elderly Japanese lady tried to run a couple of people down with her cane. She ended up being seated in my row, and I really tried to give her my aisle seat, but she didn't understand a word I said. I swear it took her 20 minutes to shuffle down to her window seat. Moments later, a young kid took his spot between us and proceeded to fart throughout the entire 4 hour flight.

It's hard to sleep in that kind of environment, so when the flight touched down in Orlando at 7am, my only thoughts were of crawling into the guest bed in my parent's house. When my bags came out first - literally the first one out! - and the shuttle that takes me to the retirement village where my folks live was right outside waiting for me, I thought maybe my day was looking up. That was until I noticed the semen that was hanging from the handle of my suitcase. The suitcase I just carried from baggage claim. Okay, chances are it was somebody's lotion or conditioner that exploded all over during the flight. But I had to resist the urge to put my fingers in my mouth. Or touch my face. Or smell my fingers.

It's raining here. And it just got dark. Papa Bear told all kinds of stories from his army days as we ate homemade pork cutlets. Bless her heart, my mother cooked a full meal for me and my dad even though she's only allowed to have clear broth the entire day. We have to check into the hospital at 7 tomorrow morning. Mama Bear is anxious. The phone's been ringing off the hook with well-wishers. You know the "our neighbors from Jersey, who lived in the red house on Willow Way, had two sons - Johnny and Eddie - who you used to play tug-of-war with at the lake" kind of well-wishers. I have no recollection of Johnny nor Eddie, but I'm glad their folks called to wish my mom well.

Thursday, June 23, 2005

For Mom

For a long while now, I’ve been hesitant to blog about all the crazy shit that’s been going on because, well, who wants to be a downer? I mean, this blog is usually one big stand-up routine, and lately, T$ and her uterus have been the headliners. I’ve been the slut in the corner wearing too much makeup cackling at all the jokes.

Well, today I found myself cackling over a not-so-funny subject, but it felt really good to laugh about it. Cancer. That’s right. Not so funny. My dad has it. My mom just found out she has it. And, by the way I’ve been sucking on the end of the Camel Lights lately, I’m surely on my way to getting it. In a year where cancer has brought me to tears almost as much as an insensitive ex-boyfriend, today I laughed at it.

The giggles crept into my throat as Mama Bear shared the details of her latest catscan. We laughed because she apparently has an extra spleen. Spleen? Who the fuck knows what the first spleen does, let alone the extra one. Also, she may have a touch of the osteoporosis. No shit Ma. You’re sixty-five years old for God’s sake! I didn’t think she’d appreciate the cursing and the Lord in the same breath, being Catholic and all, but she laughed. And when she laughed, I smiled. Because she hasn’t sounded like herself lately, and that scared me.

But now she was laughing...so I kept going. The gall stones. The hint of emphysema. What the fuck is a “hint” of emphysema? The woman never smoked a day in her life and still gets stuck with a hint of emphysema. I felt a little guilty about all the Camel Lights. All in all, the results were good news. Cancer has not spread throughout the rest of her body. Surgery is scheduled for Tuesday morning, and I’m going to be right there, holding her hand, trying to make her laugh. Who needs all that colon in there for fuck’s sake. Get that shit out and get better already.

I love you Ma.

Monday, June 20, 2005

I have a confession...

It’s something I’ve struggled with ever since grade school when Sr. Francis Claire yelled at me for running in the hallway and I immediately burst into tears: I have an irrational fear of authority. It’s true. Because of this, I cannot tell you any of the details of my weekend for fear that the five-oh would promptly bust down my door and haul me away in cuffs. Then, I’d have to use my one call to wake up Waller so that he could post my bail thereby avoiding causing more undue stress to the parental unit who are way across the country and have more important things to do with their money now than busting me out of jail. All I will say is that sometimes a friend can surprise you in the most wonderful ways.

Friday, June 17, 2005

sometimes my job makes me want to poke my eyes out with a spoon

Yes, we can pay for your flights. Wow, it’ll be 7 thousand dollars. Maybe we cannot pay for your flights. What do you have in your budget? Maybe we can split it with you. Boy, we didn’t expect it to be so expensive. Could you come in September? No? How much can you pitch in? Nothing? Okay. Yes, we can pay for your flights.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

did you feel that one?

heh. earthquake at work. someone screamed. I held my computer for some reason.

Oi, my head hurts

Hey Louie, is that how you spell Oi…Oye…Oy? My ancestors only taught me how to spell beer and whiskey. Anyway, last evening was one of those adult entertainment evenings you always figured you’d have eventually when you got older. No, I’m not talking about strippers and porn. I mean good food, good wine, good friends. It was like something out of The Big Chill – the scent from the kitchen smacked me in the face as soon as I walked in the door. Seconds later, two very friendly Dalmatians pounced on me and the night had begun. There must have been hundreds of candles inside and out. Dozens of bottles of wine were poured. There were mussels, papadon, curry chicken, potatoes. Salad was served after the mail course. Then, fruit tart. More wine and quiet backyard conversation accented by the evening’s soundtrack spilling through the French doors out onto the patio. But my head hurts today. Oy.

Monday, June 13, 2005

will this day ever end?


a romantic weekend

Went to dinner with T$ and the Louie on Saturday night. Ditto for Sunday night, then the Machinist movie at home.

Currently taking bets for the best-guess of the exact date when Louie will break and sign my ass up for match.com so that he can finally be alone with his girlfriend again. My money’s on July 10th.

Friday, June 10, 2005

All the Special K Red Berries you can handle!

I just found the hidden breakfast stash in the kitchen. World: Changed.

putting it out there

You can pretty much get anything you want if you just ask for it. It took me thirty years, six months, twenty nine days and fifty one minutes to figure this one out.

Awaiting some news this afternoon concerning mama-bear. It’s hard to concentrate on the Druids when you’re afraid your world is going to be rocked any second now.

I love New Yorkers. I really do.

I’m sorry T$, but my stock in the British has gone down a little bit. Hopefully that will soon change.

Now, back to work…..

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