Friday, February 25, 2005

It's funny how a rotten day can turn into a perfectly wonderful one.

This morning, on my way to work, I was running a tad late. Although traffic is always light on Friday morning, I needed some extra time to pad my time sheet. Baby girl decided it was time to play while we got her ready to go, and her and zee got into an armpit farting contest. Couldn't get her out of the house quite by 6 AM.

Dropped her off, got on highway. Pulled a lane-swerver, which I don't usually do ( that irritating motherfuc&#$% who weaves in and out of traffic). Face it, people, the left lane is for passing. If I am outrageously speeding, I am passing.

Get off my 15 minute freeway ride onto my lovely backroads. Man in Volvo shoots off at the green light, then suddenly slams on his brakes. I slam on mine, spill my coffee all over the front of my favorite purple sweater. (Somehow, this reminded me of my ex-best friend, Chris. He used to say that my chest was a catchall for all sorts of items - crumbs, spilled drinks... I can't help it. They stick out. Of course, this only happened when my chest got big. Back in the day, he and the gang focused more on 'the ghetto booty': trove of all missing objects)

Get to work, mad about my sweater, and mad that I forgot to help out my friend at work the day before. (She called me 10 minutes after she left work, asked if I would put her forgotten lunch back in the fridge. Of course, I became pissed about some stupid thing at work, and completely forgot about it) Felt so bad, and was so incredibly hungry. Told her: Dang it - we have skipped eating bagels for 2 months now. Let's go get bagels - my treat.

Ate my bagel after discussing teen sex ( started after a conversation about the girl on Maury who DNA tested 32 men, couldn't find the father of her baby) and swiftly felt the effects of those 80 grams of carbs ( that is 16 units of insulin. I normally have that for 3 meals.) Became very, very sleepy.

Talked to other coworker about his poor father-in-law who just had the quadruple bypass. Wished him the best, and then headed to the bathroom because I knew I would fall asleep on my desk. Didn't sleep in the bathroom... too cold in there.

Come back to desk, phone ringing. Very frantic mother telling me she can't take baby girl to preschool- the 5th day in a row- because she is puking and coughing. Frantic mother says no babysitting tonight, sweetheart. I tell her I completely understand - 5 days of baby girl running rampant in my big house and I would freak out too.

Zee called to tell me he was thinking about me, and couldn't wait to see me.

Went and deposited my Pell grant check and got gas. Brushed my teeth, and realized my toothbrush needs a new head.

Got back to work, thankfully remembered to call in my prescriptions. YAY! Decided to read the rest of the articles I had printed out, and phone rings again.

Friend I had left a message for calling me back. I felt terrible that I couldn't remember why I had called, and I apologized profusely. Started talking about blog, girl who wanted Tiffany ring and etc. Told me he was getting married.

What a mix of feelings. Here I am, a pretty bad cynic on the whole subject, but at the same time, I am thrilled to hear that someone has it good and is doing it well. Lowkey, nice, quiet. Completely shocked and surprised that I was informally invited. As I have never met this friend face-to-face, became stuck in a mesh of insecurity and strange feelings....is it appropriate to meet someone for the first time at their wedding? Isn't that a screenplay or something? And no, I don't plan on trying to woo this man, a la "My Best Friend's Wedding".

Well, stranger things have happened. I mean, I am going to Iowa in four months to watch one of my favorite people in the world marry a girl he met online in their goofy rpg. These two people are so meant for eachother, they even look alike.

Right now I am waiting on my ultimately sweet man to come back home with dinner. Baby girl got a nice dose of robitussin, and is snoring, holding her puppy, with thumb in mouth.

My poor kitty is sitting in the window next to me, I had to compliment him profusely because Zee told Baby gurl that my kitty was born a rock. They ran around the house calling him "rock". My poor kitty is already confused- his name is mouse and he thinks he is a dog - barks and everything.

Have a wonderful weekend, everyone. Very happy about the way the world looks - to me - right now.


I like drinking potty water, because I am a dog..... Posted by Hello


My name is Mouse.... and I am a dog.... Posted by Hello

Thursday, February 24, 2005

My Cause... I think I will work on it this weekend. I have been incited.

So I just wanted to give everyone a heads up. I read this article from the NY Times, and I got a little passionate about it. I don't know if I was so upset (literally crying at my desk) because I really like this editorialist, or because of the pill that still had me hung over, or what. But I felt I needed to warn everyone that I just might start my own little campaign this weekend after inebriation sets in and I get passionate enough. Don't be pissed I couldn't paste the photos. They don't look like anything, just people laying on the ground. ( No nasty rotten.com snuff ) Okay, I am going to go ahead and paste this before I start rambling.

OP-ED COLUMNIST
The Secret Genocide Archive
By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF Published: February 23, 2005
ARTICLE TOOLS



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Genocide in Darfur
A closer look at the four photos from a secret archive gathered by African Union monitors.

A Promise Unkept: Nicholas D. Kristof in Darfur
Through October 2004, the genocide in Sudan had killed 100,000, but little had been done to stop the crisis.
Forum: Discuss This Column


Photos don't normally appear on this page. But it's time for all of us to look squarely at the victims of our indifference.
These are just four photos in a secret archive of thousands of photos and reports that document the genocide under way in Darfur. The materials were gathered by African Union monitors, who are just about the only people able to travel widely in that part of Sudan.
This African Union archive is classified, but it was shared with me by someone who believes that Americans will be stirred if they can see the consequences of their complacency.
The photo at the upper left was taken in the village of Hamada on Jan. 15, right after a Sudanese government-backed militia, the janjaweed, attacked it and killed 107 people. One of them was this little boy. I'm not showing the photo of his older brother, about 5 years old, who lay beside him because the brother had been beaten so badly that nothing was left of his face. And alongside the two boys was the corpse of their mother.
The photo to the right shows the corpse of a man with an injured leg who was apparently unable to run away when the janjaweed militia attacked.
At the lower left is a man who fled barefoot and almost made it to this bush before he was shot dead.
Last is the skeleton of a man or woman whose wrists are still bound. The attackers pulled the person's clothes down to the knees, presumably so the victim could be sexually abused before being killed. If the victim was a man, he was probably castrated; if a woman, she was probably raped.
There are thousands more of these photos. Many of them show attacks on children and are too horrific for a newspaper.
One wrenching photo in the archive shows the manacled hands of a teenager from the girls' school in Suleia who was burned alive. It's been common for the Sudanese militias to gang-rape teenage girls and then mutilate or kill them.
Another photo shows the body of a young girl, perhaps 10 years old, staring up from the ground where she was killed. Still another shows a man who was castrated and shot in the head.
This archive, including scores of reports by the monitors on the scene, underscores that this slaughter is waged by and with the support of the Sudanese government as it tries to clear the area of non-Arabs. Many of the photos show men in Sudanese Army uniforms pillaging and burning African villages. I hope the African Union will open its archive to demonstrate publicly just what is going on in Darfur.
The archive also includes an extraordinary document seized from a janjaweed official that apparently outlines genocidal policies. Dated last August, the document calls for the "execution of all directives from the president of the republic" and is directed to regional commanders and security officials.
"Change the demography of Darfur and make it void of African tribes," the document urges. It encourages "killing, burning villages and farms, terrorizing people, confiscating property from members of African tribes and forcing them from Darfur."
It's worth being skeptical of any document because forgeries are possible. But the African Union believes this document to be authentic. I also consulted a variety of experts on Sudan and shared it with some of them, and the consensus was that it appears to be real.
Certainly there's no doubt about the slaughter, although the numbers are fuzzy. A figure of 70,000 is sometimes stated as an estimated death toll, but that is simply a U.N. estimate for the deaths in one seven-month period from nonviolent causes. It's hard to know the total mortality over two years of genocide, partly because the Sudanese government is blocking a U.N. team from going to Darfur and making such an estimate. But independent estimates exceed 220,000 - and the number is rising by about 10,000 per month.
So what can stop this genocide? At one level the answer is technical: sanctions against Sudan, a no-fly zone, a freeze of Sudanese officials' assets, prosecution of the killers by the International Criminal Court, a team effort by African and Arab countries to pressure Sudan, and an international force of African troops with financing and logistical support from the West.
But that's the narrow answer. What will really stop this genocide is indignation. Senator Paul Simon, who died in 2003, said after the Rwandan genocide, "If every member of the House and Senate had received 100 letters from people back home saying we have to do something about Rwanda, when the crisis was first developing, then I think the response would have been different."
The same is true this time. Web sites like www.darfurgenocide.org and www.savedarfur.org are trying to galvanize Americans, but the response has been pathetic.
I'm sorry for inflicting these horrific photos on you. But the real obscenity isn't in printing pictures of dead babies - it's in our passivity, which allows these people to be slaughtered.
During past genocides against Armenians, Jews and Cambodians, it was possible to claim that we didn't fully know what was going on. This time, President Bush, Congress and the European Parliament have already declared genocide to be under way. And we have photos.
This time, we have no excuse.
E-mail: nicholas@nytimes.com

My week of drowsiness, contentment, and the feeling of being inebriated

Strange and Wonderful things that have happened to me this week.
(Sneak Peek - I am supposed to be studying)

1. Zee's sex drive returned. Too bad mine didn't. Whoops.

2. My Pell Grant money came. Too bad it is going straight to the man.

3. Just got off the phone with hyperfine teammate from school. Had an interesting conversation about how he needs to go to Brazil to check out the Brazilian wax, plastic surgery, and etc. I think I made him feel better, he seemed inspired when we hung up.

4. My daughter's case of strep has evolved into perma-run in the nozzle.
5. Don't ever watch FX "DVD movies". Last night we watched their DVD version of "Speed" and it was like a bad rabbit ears flick from the po' days. (Complete with blackouts, pauses in the shot, runs across the screen and etc.)

6. I have been really busy at work - my friend M and I have been playing email tag for three weeks. I feel bad about it, I need to call her. I'm afraid she is getting snowed into a bundle of Frosty the Snowman in Philly.

7. My Great White presentation for class (Why you should support the UN resolution to render the Great White Shark an endangered species, or in layman terms, why it is okay to nuke shark-fin commercial fishboats from Japan) is done and I am really proud of my powerpoint, it is absolutely beautiful. Love my sharkie pics, I am going to have to make a mural or something. Zee says I am nuts.

8. Talked to my lovely friend in Atlanta today - she works at this ultra ritzy law firm - the kind where you have to wear hose, heels, and a skirt of appropriate length every day. She got permission to go on a sabbatical to South Africa, and they are paying for her to spend three months there doing AIDS outreach stuff. I am thrilled for her. How cool is that? I have a role model.

9. Another friend is going to become engaged in two months in Memphis. I think it will be the shock of her life when she doesn't receive the 9K Tiffany ring she wants. Pray for her salvation from the land of commercial doo-dads, money-lovin, and playa hatin.

10. Watched the Hip hop special on VH1, and started ranting and raving right about the time that Biggie and Tupac got shot. Started throwing things at P.Diddy on the TV. I hate that man with a passion. What a poser.


Feel better baby  Posted by Hello

Saturday, February 19, 2005


Bubba Ho-Tep Poster. Completely rethinking the getting married by Elvis thing. This is your opportunity to email me and talk me out of it. Posted by Hello

Bubba Ho-Tep

Zee was lucky enough to get a Best Buy gift card for Xmas. He used most of it, save for $10, on the "Carnivale" DVD set and a couple of CDs. Sucks when you have $10 left, especially at Best Buy. Honestly, if you don't have the money to supplement your $10, what the hell are you going to buy?

For months he has talked about how he missed the ultimate purchase that day. Last summer, he and I surfed the web, watching movie trailers, and got completely stoked over a new Canadian flick - "Bubba Ho-Tep". It's a Bruce Campbell movie ( Bruce Campbell of Evil Dead 2, Army of Darkness, Zena, etc.). Don't get me wrong, I think Bruce Campbell is a bit of a dork. My ex-brother in law, the man with the completely goofy, "limited edition" swords - over 25 from stupid production companies capitalizing on Lord of the Rings, Blade, Highlander, Zena - was a Army of Darkness freak. He could spend three or four hours just blah-blah-blahing about the movie. I remember going through this dialogue for the eightieth time while sitting at Waffle House, and seriously considering impaling him with my fork.

However, the premise of Bubba Ho-Tep is pretty great. Elvis Presley switched identities with an Elvis impersonator in the early 70s. The impersonator, living as Elvis, died of drug abuse. The real Elvis is stuck in a nursing home in rural Texas. Elvis has to join forces with the real JFK ( in a older black man's body, it's another f-ed up story) in order to fight a mummy who has broken into the nursing home to steal the resident's souls. Elvis, being both erudite and redneck at the same time, christens the mummy "Bubba Ho-Tep".

Today was payday, and I felt that Zee needed some cheering up. I ganked his Best Buy gift card, and made a run at lunch for the movie. Completely worth it, if you are into camp and goofiness. Made me feel great.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005


Ommmmmm Posted by Hello

Pre-nervous breakdown? Or just not enough coffee?

So here I am, sitting at home, on a perfectly beautiful, overcast Tuesday in February.

My stupid team at school has capitulated into this steaming heap of dung. One member whines more than my five year old, and I have really been trying to be caring and supportive, she is going through a rough time. She just moved here, she has a really awful job, and her husband up and decided to become an Atlanta PD officer. You would be whiny, too, I think. Unfortunately, the sound of her whining on the phone makes me want to tear my hair out.....isn't that called trichotillomania or something?

Another team member called to say she thinks she is withdrawing. You are only allowed two absences - everyone knows this. Last week she went to Mardi Gras, and took a week off to do this. I feel ya, girl, I would love to take a week off for Mardi Gras. (Not really, I prefer New Orleans in the Summer, when it is a bit quieter, a lot more humid, and there is no reason to wear clothing). Last night, she called me at 9 PM to say that the needy executive she works for has demanded her presence out of town for some conference. If she goes, she will have to withdraw. Again, I played consoling counselor - I honestly did feel bad for her at the time. Now, after having had stayed up until 2:30AM to get the work done that she was supposed to have completed, I feel a little stupid being so nice.

My third team member is a member of the smoothie-king club. I only know this because I date one of the founders. I love these men - we call them "fluff" (which apparently is also what gay men call them) who run around in this world, doing practically nothing. They usually lead dysfunctional lives of partying very hard and working excellent jobs, solely for the fact that they are usually ridiculously good looking and know how to smooth their way through any situation with aplomb. Anyway, my lovely team member works in a type of sales position, pretty high up the corporate ladder. He recently was promoted, among a huge internal rift, to a position that not only nearly doubles his salary, but has twice the amount of authority and stress. Now, instead of dealing with customers who purchase 100K worth of merchandise, he is negotiating with customers who purchase $1 million in merchandise.

I actually like smoothie-king a lot. We have quite a bit in common, and have both realized together that we need to stay away from eachother, as we have the same interests, vices, and proclivities. For example: One evening in class we elected someone to take off and go get us dinner. Of course, the chosen representative was smoothie king. He asked if I would like to go on a field trip, and I had to defer, as I knew that we would end up in some bar somewhere (or worse), and completely blow off class altogether. Smoothie King and I are just cut from the same mettle, I believe. He definitely works the room way better than I currently do, and I admire that. It is a true joy to watch.

Unfortunately, smoothie king is now attempting to smooth me over by "deferring to my expertise". Don't give me that bs, I know how you operate. I once operated the same way.

So I am stuck doing the work of five. I am exhausted, anxious, and just really, really tired. Last night my computer crashed twice (Zee says I just treat them badly, and that they can't possibly work as fast as I want them to) and lost my document twice in the process. I spent three hours typing the same damn paper, and I had four more papers to go.

The funny part is, I actually feel okay emotionally. I have been proceeding through my routine like some stoned monkey, and I really don't know why, I haven't been spurring my mindset with any additives. I am kind of afraid that it is the calm before the storm.

Last week, I cried in class while giving a presentation. Fortunately, it worked for the material, so I actually was asked if I knew how to do that (cry on command). I explained that I don't, and that was the reason I was never a huge success as a child actor ( I remember being asked to do it twice in auditions - I completely failed. I don't cry unless something really bothers me, and I just can't make something bother me.) I hope that I don't do that again. Talk about uncomfortable.

Many good wishes for me, please. I have this weird feeling I need it.

Sunday, February 13, 2005


Love Bill the Cat.  Posted by Hello

Thursday, February 10, 2005

I have been planning a vacation in a disorganized way this year. Despite my burning desire to go swim with my sharkie friends, I have to do something with zee that will please him also.

He says that he wouldn't mind seeing San Diego, and I admit I really like that town. I might even go by and see my drunken Aunt Linda living in my grandmother's cute little gingerbread house. I think it is totally funny that my grandmother's house is in the ghetto, yet it was appraised in 2003, when grannie died, for $350K. That's California for you. Anyway, that is on the way to my sharkie adventure, but I still haven't put myself there yet.

Our friend Robert is marrying the love of his life, another "Linda", June 4th, in Iowa. We are actually considering making the 1000 mile trip by car, and doing a "Roadtrip". My grandmother's family was from there, and there is apparently some Booth farmhouse where she was born somewhere in Iowa. Not that we really want to stay in Iowa.

I keep thinking about "About Schmidt". His poor, pathetic, tormented life is spent in his winnebago, driving the flat roads to nowhere in the middle of America. He writes to his little African friend Windoogoo, and visits his childhood home along with his alma mater.

I know I really need something very simplistic and quiet, in order to make me first feel old and boring, and then to make me feel young again because I am bored stiff. If anyone has any suggestions of places to visit while we go to BFE, such as the world's biggest haystack or the biggest corn maze or something, I could really use some help.

Monday, February 07, 2005


You know you need it Posted by Hello

The man and the menagerie

So my ex-husband just bought another pet for his menagerie. It is called a Shiba Inu, and it looks like a little fluffy-husky-fox. Please remember that Cee is adding this to his already established Zoo, composed of:

a) Colombian Red-tailed Boa - which missed the mouse and bit his stupid as% the other day, haha
b) African Ball python
c) A pickapoo ( actually called a pickashi$, if you ask me, horrid little yippy dog)
d) an indonesian panda ferret
e) a canadian albino ferret
f) a congo african gray (Marvin the parrot, bites his lip and talks - says "damn monkeys"
g) a nanday conyer (some other kind of screwy bird, apparently sings)

Please email this man and tell him I need some child support. Now.

I have all kind of strange fantasies like the old lady song:

There was a fat redneck who lived in a zoo
I don't know why he lived in a zoo
it smells like poooooooo

There was a fat redneck who lived w/out a clue
I don't know why they didn't eat him toooooo
I guess he'll sueeeeee.

Sunday, February 06, 2005


Chew you up and eat you for breakfast, from the perspective of the stupid, competitive newbie Posted by Hello

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Everyone says stupid things

"I can play hardball as well as anybody. That's what I did, cut people's hearts out. On the other hand, I do it to cure them, to heal them, to make them better."BILL FRIST, the Senate majority leader and a transplant surgeon.
As posted in the NY Times February 2, 2005

I honestly am fully aware that this quote came from a zealot asshole. I was aware that he is an asshole prior to this quote. I know my mother has sent him a pretty nice piece of chump change every year for the past few years. That being said, we still need to identify the problem.

Transplant surgeons are a rare breed, you see. I have a tale from a close relative about these particular specialists. My relative is prime for stories such as these. I relish having had such a good diarist available while I was growing up. Keep in mind this relative has perhaps scarred any capability I may have had for normalcy, by storing a morgue gurney in our garage, attached to my parent's cute mediterranean townhouse in Valencia, California. This gurney became a running joke around the neighborhood about the weird "@#$%& family". Such a tragic childhood.

Anyway, the story is that my relative, (we'll call him Midgie from now on)
spent a great deal of time in operating rooms as part of his career in medical equipment sales. Midgie grew to love physicians, nurses, and those that work in the medical field. He was still glad that he had bombed on his Harvard Med interview because he would've missed his experience as a Lake Tahoe ski instructor. (The scene at UC Berkeley: Wearing his recently permed afro, a wine colored polyester shirt open to right above the naval, and a pair of blue jeans that not only hugged his tiny rear, but quite unfashionably sported bell-bottoms in the late '70s. Imagine blue eyes, glassy and bloodshot from the previous night's experience with PCP, Pot, and Chablis. Upon being questioned by the Harvard interviewer about Midgie's racial designation on his app - Cherokee Indian- this able denizen of the UC system stated "It's all true, man."

My Midgie was in the operating room of an open heart surgery in the mid '80s. He had properly scrubbed, and wore his still-crisp feeling olive pajamas proudly. As Midgie watched the surgical team remove the rather-obese patient's heart, and carefully swap it for the rosy organ that had been loving stored on ice in the styrofoam igloo, he let out a deep exhale. Midgie wondered if the surgery, as viewed by the layman, was as momentous as he had felt it to be. Perhaps he truly had missed his calling as a practitioner of the medical art.

As soon as this thought had crossed Midgie's addled mind, a "whoops" was heard from the brave surgeon (assisting, of course) who had held the new, fragile, unmarred organ in his hands. Like the spaghetti in the Bounty paper towel commercial, the heart flung in a gentle arc through the air, and landed with a SPLAT on the sanitized tile.

The cardiologist, still hovering near the obese patient's chest, quickly pulled down his protective mask and stared at the other surgeon in horror. Three ominous seconds of silence passed. The cardiologist bent at the waist, picked up the defaced organ, wiped it off with a nearby swab, and plunked it in the patient's chest.

Midgie always laughs when he tells this story. He describes his confrontation with the Cardiologist later, as they are chainsmoking just outside of the ER entrance. Midgie smoked in silence, trying to formulate the best way to question the Specialist. After stubbing out his Camel, the Good Doctor said, "If anything happens I know you will help me out here. Your monitors are new this year, and we could always pass off a discrepancy as one of the lemons."

Bill Frist may be a Physician on The Hill, which in my mind is much better than any litigious personal injury attorney we stick there, but he hails from the wackiest breed of Doctors around. I'm glad he feels he can savagely tear someone's heart out, and opt not to replace it. I am not sure if he has just been hanging out with W for too long, or if he is just preparing for a second term of idiocy.


That's my Georgie-Porgie. He's really on the ball, you know. He and his cohorts spend quality time together, and learn new and fun ways to communicate. Posted by Hello