June 22, 2001

9pm: I went to pick up the kids today and decided to stop in the classrooms to say good-bye and thanks to the teachers. Natalie's teacher cornered me as soon as I got into the class. Apparently, the journal entry I wrote about her (which I gave her) had her crying most of the night. She said she was so incredibly touched by it, that she sent it into Newsday and practically begged them to print it. She said it wasn't the nice things I wrote about her that made her so emotional, but the fact that she knew nothing of Natalie's past problems and was so proud of her for coming as far as she did. After she handed Natalie her certificate naming her the class "Writer-In-Residence" she paid me the highest compliment and told me she now knows where Natalie gets her writing skills from. The whole episode made my day.

I took DJ out to lunch today and eavesdropped on the people sitting next to me, while DJ was glued to an ESPN story on Barry Bonds. Apparently, this man and woman knew each other 25 years ago. They are both in town for some reunion. They meet at the table and he starts gushing to her how they wasted 25 long years not being in touch. He already seems overbearing and a wee bit too nervous, as if he's about to start spouting out sweat from his armpits. The lady is quiet as the man starts off the conversation with this long lost friend like this:

Man: I have to clear the air right now. You broke my heart.
Lady: Me? I don't think I said two words to you in high school.
Man: I know. That's what broke my heart. I loved you.
Lady: You didn't even know me.
Man: Oh, but I did. I knew more about you than you will ever realize.
(dead silence from lady)
Man: I've been looking for you for years. I've searched the internet every day for you.
Lady: Oh.
Man: I just know that we are going to have so much in common. I've been looking so forward to getting to know you again.
At this point, man goes into lengthy discussion of how he owns 12 computers at home and they are all networked and he has 7 cell phones and he gets about 100 calls a day on them. He rants about his computer skills and his knowledge of all things computing. She mumbles a bit about having some computer expertise. He comes out with this winner of a question:
Man: So what version of Windows do you use?
Lady: I use a Mac.
You can almost hear the tear in the fabric that was this conversation. The man looks shocked and horrified. The woman looks like she would rather be in the firey depths of hell. They both stir around the ice in their drinks for a few minutes while he contemplates a relationship with a Mac user and she contemplates using her steak knife on him. Man finds another brilliant question to break silence:
Man: So, do you live alone?
I am willing to wager that this man did not score tonight.

Lyrics contest ends tonight. Want to see what you're winning? Take a look at a pic of all the rock n roll outlaw swag. You have til midnight...actually til I wake up tomorrow at about 5am...to enter. I'm already hard at work on the next exciting contest!

Missing: One sense of decency, some pride and lots of class. If seen, please return to Angelina Jolie, who seems to have lost hers (note to 14 year old boys who click on this link: please have a box of tissues or a tube sock handy).

How many times have you been in a movie theater at night, trying to enjoy a PG-13 or R movie, only to be surrounded by little kids whose parents didn't have enough sense to realize it was a grown-up movie? Right, plenty. So props to Jet Li, who posted a note on his website asking parents to please not bring their children to his new movie, Kiss of the Dragon.

Win prizes for reporting people who look at porn! So don't go here. Or here. Or here. O0ps, you bad person! I'm gonna win me a bible now!

Mark McGwire: Awww damn, it's MY record and I'm keeping it. Fuck you, Bonds! I'm smelling some bad sour grapes here.

This contest just screams out MULLET!

6am: Finally, it's Friday. I was wondering if the Greeks used to say Thank Zeus it's Friday. Do satanists say Thank Satan it's Friday? Me, I just say Fuck Yea It's Friday.

I started American Gods already. I lied, I couldn't wait until tomorrow. Now I am already suckered in and any thoughts I had of cleaning or doing something constructive today are gone.

Even loveable, adorable movie start piggies are not immune to the harsh realities of life. Looks like Babe is gonna bite the big one soon.

Not only is Big Brother watching you, so is your car rental company. And boy, are they pissed at you.

There is no one on the face of the earth - not Russel Crowe, not Celine Dion - who loves themselves more than Mariah Carey. I don't know what my problem with her is, but I have constant urges to kick her in the groin.

According to this article, you give away your personality by where you sit in the movie theater. I always sit in the very last row and this is what that supposedly reveals about me:

"The invisible rebels occupy the back row. The back row is where things happen; it's an exciting area of mild danger and heavy petting. It tends to attract people who are rebellious."

Actually there are two reasons I sit in the back row. If I have my kids with me, I sit there so they can be fidgety and fuss around without annoying anyone. But mostly, I sit there because it is easiest to get to the bathroom from there. When you are like me and have to pee about every half an hour, you don't want to be moving up and down a movie row three times during a show. So I sit in the end seat in the last row. Also, I'll be the first one out in event of fire or other imminent danger such as the movie sucking ass. But I do like the idea of being an invisible rebel.

My heros in a half shell are returning. John Woo will be directing a big screen CGI animated Ninja Turtles movie. TURTLE POWER! I would love to see a dark, sinister telling of the TMNT stories, rather than a rehash of the cartoony 'hey dude' saga. In my world, all books and movies are dark and sinister, though. Too bad this ain't my world.

June 21, 2001

10pm: This is the only thing I will say on this page about the graduation and subsequent party: A group of 11 year old girls in strapless dresses and 6 inch heels doing a coochie momma dance with their equally whore-dressed mothers to Lady Marmalade is WRONG. Incredibly, horribly wrong. Thankfully, Natalie has more taste and tact than most of the girls in her class and stood off the side, videotaping the decadent scene so she and her other friends can make fun of everyone later on. Do parents not realize what messages they send to their kids? I realized today just how much of an outsider I am with these other parents. And for that, I am thankful.

My favorite Simpsons episode, Homerpalooza,was on tonight. It includes this exchange, which is my favorite Simpsons moment ever:

Billy Corgan, introducing himself to Homer: Billy Corgan, Smashing Pumpkins
Homer: Homer Simpson, smiling politely.

I was going to do this whole thing on last night's South Park, but Fredo did some kind of Jedi Mind trick and sucked the idea right from my brain today.

Guess what came by UPS today?!? Guess what was waiting for me when I came home?!? That's right, a brand spankin new copy of the long awaited Neil Gaiman novel, American Gods. I am going to start reading tomorrow night and not leave the couch until I finish. (Neil talks about the book signing I missed on his blog and it made me cry).

Archie Bunker is dead.

Just when you thought Christina Aguilera couldn't look any skankier, up pops another picture of her looking like this. [link from pie in the sy]

6am: Happy Birthday to my sister, Lisa. Yea, you may be 31, but you will always be my baby sister. Hope this year is better to you than last.

Lyric game progress: Out of 24 entries received, only one person has gotten them all right so far (I will still give out 3 prizes though, so close may be good enough in this case). I am going to give you all a hint, especially for those using search engines to look for the songs: Make sure you are getting the song title and not the album title, especially on #1. And why has almost every person asked somewhere on their entry if I really listen to Gwar? Yes, I do. And if you get past the goofy make up and costumes, they are really ver talented musicians.

A burglar broke into a The Cookie Wookie and stole 6 pounds worth of treats. The owners can expect a call from George Lucas's lawyers any day now, demanding a cease and desist on the store name.

In a sport filled with prima donnas, whiners and spoiled brats, it is a sad moment when one of the few players with integrity decides to retire. Cal Ripken will be sorely missed.

I never really cared much for Barry Bonds, but I find myself held captive by his performance this season. His incredible display of power will turn this baseball season into the Year of Bonds. I've added a Barry Bonds home run watch up top, under the daily Yankee score. 38 home runs before the All Star break - it's mind boggling.

June 20, 2001

10pm: I was trying to write a thank you to Natalie's teacher and ended up writing in the journal. I think I will just print this out and give it to her. Sometimes a plain thank you just isn't enough to get the point across.

9pm: First: Play the game!

I have had an incredibly stressful day. I am so thankful for Justin. The last thing I wanted to do when I came home today was entertain the kids for 5 hours until bedtime, in between cooking and dishes and errands and heat and humidity. Between my lack of sleep, a very emotional week, Natalie's graduation tomorrow, missing Neil Gaiman and a very stressful day at work, I am ready for a nervous breakdown. But when I got home at 4:30, I walked into a very clean house. Everything was done. Dinner was already made. After dinner, Justin took the kids outside to play ball and now the three of them are in the bedroom together, watching Indiana Jones. I am sitting here alone at the computer with my cup of freshly made coffee, listening to the thunder and experiencing a fabulous breeze. I am the luckiest person alive. Thank you, Justin.

A warning to guys and an excuse for women: Blow jobs may be dangerous to your health.

After your dangerous blow job, head on over to The Manor in Beloit and get yourself some titties.

There are an awful lot of people in this world, my sister included, suffering from infertility. Every time I read a story like this or this it breaks my heart that there are so many people who would give a limb from their body if they could only have a child, and there are also so many people who treat their own children like rag dolls. No, nobody ever said life was fair. But don't you think it should be for little kids?

Making money off the internet, slacker version.

The most useful site ever. I know where I can play Galaga!

Natalie graduates from here tomorrow. In September she will be off the to big bad world of middle school. I've been weeping all week.

Note to people who don't like bathing: It is summer. It is very hot out. Consequently, you will smell twice as bad as you do in winter. Please, for the sake of others, up your bathing habit to at least twice weekly instead of the apparent once a month shower you are taking. Every day would be nice, but I don't want to put you out. Oh...you may want to look into this also.

6am: Well....Freeservers has been down since last night. Very aggravating. Wouldn't it be nice if your host let you know ahead of time that they are going to be down for about 12 hours? Below is last night's post that I was trying to upload when I realized that I was fucked.

Today is June 20th. Do you know what today was supposed to be? It was supposed to be the day I get to meet Neil Gaiman. He is doing a book signing on Long Island and I was planning on going, had been looking forward to it for a month. But, as always with me, the best laid plans get fucked up in the end. In order for me to get to Huntington for the book signing, I would have to go straight from work, face Long Island Expressway traffic all the way there, get there when the line was already a mile long and wait til who knows what time for my turn. Meaning I would get home really late, and my mom doesn't want to watch the kids that late and they can't sleep there because tomorrow morning is Natalie's graduation. So...my planned accost on Neil Gaiman will have to wait for another opportunity. I was going to have him sign my Sandman book, too.

June 19, 2001

10pm: Blogging for charity: Bloggers go at it for 24 hours straight to raise money for the charities of your choice. Please check out the list of deserving charities and sponsor someone. No, I'm not going to do the blog-a-thon. My days of staying up for 24 hours straight on purpose are over. But I did sponsor Melissa and Fredo.

For the foreseeable future, my sites of the day will all be sites listed at Aortal, in support of independent sites on the web.

6am: I can't put all of my dream together yet, but I know that there was an underlying sense of panic and anxiety that I am still feeling. But at least I slept. Air conditioners are the greatest invention ever.

I wrote about this story when I first made this weblog. While I am outgraged that the therapists are getting what seems to be a light in sentence in view of the fact that there is a dead child as a result of their actions, I think the mother should be held responsible for more than criminally negligent homicide. She went along with it, she watched it, she did nothing to help. Her daughter is dead because of her new age stupidity. [link from some Mets fan]

Juan Garza is set to die today. While I am not a proponent of the death penalty, I am certainly not a proponent of murder and drug distribution either. I was watching the news last night and saw a video of the doomed man's children, ages 9 and 13, pleading for their dad's life. It was heartwrenching in a way, but I also think that the family and friends of Garza should not be portraying him as a wonderful family man with all these redeeming qualities. Fact is, he is a murderer. And while I do not think it is our right to kill him in revenge, as the government is doing today, I do think people need to own up to the fact that he is a piece of scum. On a sort of related note, I found out yesterday that my grandfather, now deceased, was a gun runner and alcohol runner for the mob. Lovely. That's about as good as finding out that my ancestors in Italy were pig stealers.

A webiste posted an add offering sex for Madonna tickets. (I tried to access the site, but I just got a message in German that I think may have meant "will suck dick for Britney Spears tickets" though I'm not too sure). Whoring yourself out for Madonna tickets...wouldn't that be like acting like an immature idiot for Limp Bizkit tickets? Speaking of Mr. Durst, the Bizkit has cancelled the rest of their European tour due to Fred's "bad back" which I guess is LB speak for bruised ego. Funny that two days after ranting how the European press hates him (you know, they all drink that Hatorade), Fred packs up his bags and leaves town.

Odd bedfellows: Sen Jesse Helms and Bono. Looks like U2 just lost the gay boy scout fanbase. Last week they lost cred with the not so beautiful people. Keep going guys, and your next cd will sell even less than Pop.

It would be really nice to see a review of Tomb Raider that didn't make the focal point of the movie Angelina Jolie's breasts. For every review you read, take a half star off if the reviewer was a heterosexual male. Also, when they say the movie was "fun" what they really mean is Jolie's tits jiggled a lot. And when they say it was "riveting" it translates into "she showed a lot of cleavage." Basically, the movie sucked, but if you are a teenage boy who needs something to wank off to at night, go see it.

June 18, 2001

9pm: My father had lunch with this man on Friday. He knew this man for 20 years.

6am: Yes, it's back to work today! I have had enough of the days of running here and there, being constantly busy, always with somewhere to go and someone to see. That was my vacation. A blur of school functions, sick relatives, fighting family and kids kids kids. I enjoyed the kids part. But I am looking forward to getting back to the structure and quiet of my work day. My own office and my own little private space await me and if Mr. Coffee Man thinks he is going to invade that today I shall have to hurt him. Oh yes, I feel that mean streak coming back already!

The Concorde may resume flights by September. This makes me very happy. Even though the house and ground shake when the Concorde flies over here, and the noise is almost deafening, it is still one of the most awesome sights in the world to see that plane with its pointed nose flying so low over your home.

Ah, it's late, I need to get ready. But I want to tell you that there is a new contest coming up, sort of like the Lists of 5s, but more expansive and with prizes! Stay tuned and enjoy your Monday.

June 17, 2001

10pm:There were the little things today, like my sisters actually speaking to each other, seeing Victoria Gotti in the local deli, and my nephew David's incredibly goofy face and contagious smile. And the photo essay of what becomes of Cow and Chicken when their tv show gets cancelled. So we were all sitting at the table, and my mom decides that because it is father's day, we should all tell our favorite memories of our father. Now, we are not a sentimental, corny family when it comes to things like this. We all give my mom that 'yea right' look and then I volunteer to begin. "Remember that time that grandpa needed a kidney and dad kept jumping out of the hopsital window?" My sisters crack a smile, they see where this is going. Jo goes next. "Remember when dad quit his job and stayed home and got really fat?" The guys get it. My sister's husband says, "And they wouldn't let him into the movie theater because he was wearing a mumu!" We were having giggle fits by this time, even my mom. My other sister chimes in, "How about the time dad won the grammy!" It went on like this for about 15 minutes....when he rode the monorail...lost our baby sister...played with the Who, joined Lollapalooza...we were hysterical, that uncontrollable kind of laughter when your stomach clenches up and your mouth hurts. My father had tears coming out of his eyes he was laughing so hard. I suppose you had to be there, but it was one of those great family moments. Thankfully, the kind my family has often.

I go back to work tomorrow after almost two weeks off. I am so ready. Work is far less tiring than being home is.

Today, on Father's Day, 3 firefighters, all fathers, have lost thier lives. 50 others were injured, some critically. Some of these men were friends of my cousin, who is a Lieutenant in Queens, NY. I am going to call my dad and tell him how I savor the memory of him coming home each evening, smelling of soot and smoke and cinder. How that smell became his distinctly and and how my sisters and I welcomed it every night that he walked through the door because he came home alive. Unless you have a loved one who goes to a job each day where he or she risks their lives, you cannot understand how each day brings a breath of relief. What the sound of keys in a door means. The thankfulness that floods through your body each time he walks through the door and the anxiety that chills your blood when you know a fire is raging and someone you love is in the middle of it. Father's Day will forever be tainted for the families of the firefighters who died today. And I'm sorry if I'm being somber and morose but this, death, is a part of life, and we must deal with all the emotions that come with it. You do not have to have known someone personally to be affected by their death. To be affected by any death, you only have to know life.

8am: Happy Father's Day to all the dad's out there. It's pouring and completely dark out. I don't like to keep the air conditioner on when there is a threat of lightning (I know, how idiotic), so I am suffering with the window open, getting sprayed by bits of rain every now and then. I don't want to put the fan on because it is just blowing around the reminder that I cooked with way to much garlic last night. We are going over to my parents today for a father's day bbq. We bought this for my father, which I know he will love. We have to run to Target early this morning to pick up (and this will serve as a reminder list for me more than useless knowledge for you): shower curtain rod, gift for my aunt, battery recharger and batteries, light bulbs, an adult size jump rope, a fan for the kids' room and whatever else I happen to throw into the cart. Being able to shop with a debit card is a dangerous thing.


A magazine of found stuff. I like the idea.

I would just like to say one thing before I go, in honor of this holiday. My father is the greatest man who ever existed. He is my hero, my mentor and my inspiration. For 20 years, my father rushed into burning buildings for a living, and also as a volunteer. He now gives his time endlessly to his community in a variety of ways, all of them as a volunteer. He is an unselfish, outspoken, funny man. He is looked upon by everyone that meets him with admiration and respect. He taught me about self respect and self reliance and the power of family. He gave me my warped sense of humor and the desire to never ever grow up. He was there for me whenever I needed him, and still is. He has stood by me through all my bad choices and terrible judgment, and never once abandoned me because I went against his wishes. We are opposite in so many ways - mostly politics and religion - and he can be a stubborn, hard headed mule when it comes to his views, but he always hears me out in the end. He is, at 60, still playing hard and living to the fullest. His buddies call him the world's oldest teenager. He is the most loving and caring grandfather to my children, even if he does spoil them rotten, and he is a caring, generous husband to my mother. He would give you the shirt off his back and the last dime in his pocket if that would make you happy. And he would never ever complain about it. He curses like a sailor and has been telling us dirty jokes since we were old enough to understand them. He bought me my first beer and was doing shots with me on my 18th birthday. One Christmas, he gave me and the kids a trip to Disneyworld, all expenses paid, as our gift. He gave me his car when my ex left me without one. He is a magnificent chef, a talented bricklayer and an honest politician. He is a powerful man in the community, and people automatically throw me respect when I mention that he is my father. They never fail to mention how much they admire him. He has bailed me out of trouble countless times, so many times I didn't even know about until after my divorce. He never questioned, never prodded, never forced me to do the things he wanted me to do. He would just tell me that he was always there for me, no matter what my choice was. And he was. And he still is. I strive to be the parent he has been to me. I yearn to be the person he is. To have even an ounce of his integrity would be sufficient. Happy Father's Day, dad.

I suppose that should have gone on the journal page, but I wanted to make sure everyone saw it.

June 16, 2001

9pm: Last night, Excite had a chat with Neil Gaiman. I have never participated in one these online chats, and I didn't intend to start. So I just signed onto the chat, mimimized and saved it. And it's all right here for your reading pleasure. My favorite tidbit: Back in Neil's early days, he wrote a biography of Duran Duran.

Today was movie day. First we watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail, for what may be my 700th viewing of that movie. Then we watched Memento. Holy brainfuck. I kept having to rewind and review. My brain hurt at the end. There is just no way to explain it. See the movie. Well worth your time. It's one of those movies I will be thinking about for a long time.

The seventh sign has been sighted. MTV is playing videos. The end is near!

Ok, so the Revolver magazine I alluded to in my earlier post of today is actually an Australian magazine and not the national music mag. Nontheless, a) Geoff still deserves congrats for getting the cover story and b) Revolver is still a good magazine.

George Lucas is a fuckwad. He is going to release Phantom Menace on DVD, but still no Star Wars. You know why? So he can make 7 trillion versions first, and release them one at a time, so you need to own all of them, like with the VHS. I have the regular version, the Special Edition version and then the box set that came out because I just had to have the neato box. Yes, I was sucked in. It's the same crap the music industry pulls, when bands put out 65 versions of the same cd, with just minor differences, but they know that die hard fans of the band will go out and purchase every last disc with their name on it. And I bitch about it, but I must be an idiot because I own 5 versions of Fear Factory's Obsolete.

8am: I have dreamed about my dead grandmother 5 nights in a row now. I also have been dreaming a lot of my kids being in distress. This morning's dream had munchkins, too. They were making coffee. Anyhow.

The best entries for Round 2 Lists of 5's are finally up. I'm trying to come up with a new theme or a new game in general for this week.

The Swedes have coined my favorite George W. nickname: Toxic Texan. How great is that? [link from desertgrrl]

So Shannen Doherty thinks her talents were being wasted on Charmed. Listen up, Shannen. You are hardly Oscar material. Hell, you aren't even Emmy material. Your best piece of work will always be the elevator scene in Mallrats. You want to be taken seriously as an actress? So did Anna Nicole Smith. She ended up giving blow jobs to a 90 year old guy to make a living. Someday, when you are older and still not talented, you will look back on Charmed and think about what an idiot you were to give up a steady paycheck and work. Looking forward to seeing you on some Lifetime Movie of the Week next year, Shannen. Does the name Melissa Gilbert ring a bell?

Dogs in Elk! Dogs in Elk! Hahahaha! This was the funniest thing I've read in a long time and I only wish there were pictures. [link from Sore Eyes, who always has the best stories]

Happy Birthday to Kabir of Seething Hatred.

How I wasted my morning.

June 15, 20

7pm: Things I hate: heat, humidity and anti-lock brakes. Just to let you know.

Went to Natalie's class presentation today. I will probably blog about it later in the journal, but I just want to go on record as saying that Nat's teacher is, in my eyes, the greatest teacher on the face of the earth.

A man who is swimming around Long Island for charity found himself surrounded by armed men. Seems they thought he was a criminal who had escaped from Rikers Island prison. They questioned him for ten minutes while he was treading water. So while they are interrogating some poor guy who just wants to raise money for Down's Syndrome, the escaped convict is running loose.

This man does not deserve this money. What kind of person realized he has a 46 million dollar winning lottery ticket that is about to expire and then mails it to lottery headquarters? An idiot. Ok, a very rich idiot.

What the hell? Did they get this idea from bonsai kittens? Watermelons are NOT supposed to be square. Half the fun in eating watermelons is getting your face all sticky and messy while eating around the half circle. Why can't they ever leave well enough alone?

I have a hard enough time with giving the death penalty for murder. But for spying? What the hell is wrong with a prison term? Why does the government get to take this guys life? Yes, I know he could have put our great nation at risk. But the whole idea of "you are a traitor, you must die!" seems so barbaric to me.

Speaking of this great nation, George W. has 3 1/2 more years to destroy the world. Think he can do it? We should start a pool.

The state of rock music is disturbing. Take Godsmack, for example. How sickening is it that a band can make a living with only two chords and 3 phrases?

6am: It's Friday and my vacation has almost come to an end. I have done nothing, gone nowhere and spent an awful lot of money. I have, however, spent a lot of time with my kids. Whether that it s a good thing or a bad thing will only be known when this giant headache goes away. I dreamed last night (or this morning) about cleaning my grandmother's house. That's all the dream was for a while - me cleaning, and then shopping for dinner, and somewhere in between a doctor came over to give my kids shots. People were yelling at me. I woke up tired again. I am at the end of my rope with this and I am going to mentally fall apart soon.

Experts are saying that Vitamin C can produce cancer-causing agents in your body. And this is why I never listen to anyone. I eat what the hell I want when I want it. Everything is bad for you, everything is good for you. One day you think you're eating healthy and the next you find out that your diet can kill you. You know what? Just live. I'm not saying go out and eat a dozen donuts and a pound of bacon. But don't look at every report like this that comes out and change your diet accordingly. You would go insane. Oh...I just realized that Blawg predicted this would happen before he left for vacation. Way to go, Ian!

This site will take you from the depths of outer space, zooming in closer and closer to earth, until you get to the protons of a leaf on an oak tree in Florida. [link from popculture junkmail]

Dear Dr. Laura: Please, just shut the fuck up. Every time you open your mouth, your ignorance and intolerance becomes even more obvious. You are a blight on humanity, a festering sore on the face of the earth, and you should not be given a venue in which to spew your mean spirited remarks. Please go away. The faster, the better.

Because you want your daily dose of spiritual/religious messages to come from phony, glammed out, over-hyped, under talented,teeny bopper mega stars. The pope is a sell-out!

Abandon the sinking ship!

And today, I leave you with an opportunity to find Christ. Not in your heart, but at a wrestling match. (I'm sorry I don't know which of my daily-checked weblogs I got this from. Let me know if it's you).

Another busy day today...and I'm starting to feel better already. Blogging is very therapuetic, even if you are just blogging about nothing much. It's Friday, I think I am going to put up the first of the Round 2 entries for the new list. It's not too late to send yours in. Also tonight, my take on the AFI top 100 thrillers of all time. It's all about Night of the Lupus!

June 14, 20

10pm: Chris, I am going to kill you for showing me the mini golf game.

6am: Morning. Finally. These nightmares are going to be the death of me. I have lost all desire to sleep. Now what? I'm tired but I don't want to close my eyes. What do you do when the dreams start before you are even sleeping, while you are still awake; in that state between sleep and reality and it all starts and you can either succumb to it and sleep, knowing what awaits you there, or struggle to stay awake and create all kinds of havoc with your body and your mental health? Thank Zeus for my friend, my true friend: Coffee.

So I'm reading this thing about Dave Eggers [followed the link from linkmachinego] and I start thinking: what the hell is the obsession with whether people "sell out" or not? What the hell do you care how much money they are making, how popular they have become, what tv shows they are appearing on or what magazines they are writing for? Can't people make a living without their fans chastising them for it? Why the hell does Dave Eggers have to defend his career choices to anyone? Just because some literate magazine labeled him "the voice of his generation" does not mean he owes anyone in "this generation" anything. Do you enjoy his writing? Did you love his book? Then back the hell off of him. That's really all that should matter to you. It is the same with bands. If you still enjoy their music, then what is it to you that they finally are making enough money to pay their rent? Do artists (of any media) need to suffer in order to maintain their coolness with the public? Do you honestly believe that if a label offers them twice what they are making now, a band is going to say "Oh, no we are not sell outs. We will not accept your blood money. We would rather sleep on the floor and eat dog food in order to maintain our integrity." Hell no. If Dave Eggers wants to write for ESPN and Esquire, that is nobody's business but his. And to villify him for making a career out of his writing skills is just plain idiotic.

I got my postcard from Matt yesterday. I don't know whether the postman read it or not, but I'm just glad I got to the mailbox before my uncle upstairs did.

Today I am off to the races. I have DJ's field day. I decided not to go to Natalie's class picnic because, let's face it, what 11 year old wants her mother hanging around when she's trying to have fun?

June 13, 2001

10pm: In amusement tonight, just some pictures of us from this week.

And that's all she wrote for tonight. Literally.

4pm: I was listening to the song Mia by Chevelle. I don't really know the words, but it sure sounds like he's saying "I made a penis out of shells," and I know that's not it but I sing it anyhow. So I look up the words, just to see. What he's really saying is "I'm made of peanuts not of shells." What the hell, are you and M&M? You know what? My version is a hell of lot better and it's not half as cheesy.

Which all leads me to: Don't Call Me Dodder [link stolen from The Booge]

2pm: My aunt is ok. She is in the hospital and they are going to keep her there overnight. The humidity was probably a big factor in the attack she had, and maybe now she will listen to those of us who tell her that she needs to keep the air conditioning on in this weather.

I was in Toys R Us yesterday, buying a birthday present, minding my own business when I was accosted by hysterical women. Seems I was at the video game counter at the wrong time. They were screaming for the Game Boy Advance. They had to have it today. And they had to have it now. And they had to have the link cables and all the games and my god the world was going to end if they didn't get what they wanted right there and right then. Christ on pogo stick, women. Calm the fuck down. Are your kids going to beat you if you come without their toy? Do you think they could possibly live with themselves if they didn't have the newest fad on the exact day it came out? I mean, these woman were beside themselves. I thought a fistfight was going to break out. I have never been that mother, (Ok, the Boba Fett incident comes to mind, but it was for me, not the kids) and I want to smack every parent who goes so off the deep end that way about their kid's toys. There is a population of spoiled, demanding brats out there being catered to by their over indulging parents. In two months, all those GBA's will be under the bed collecting dust and the kids will be screaming for the next big thing and those same parents will be on line again, because their kids have to have everything right now.

Who the hell wants to watch two spoiled whiny pre-fabricated music stars go on a shopping spree? Apparently Yahoo thinks someone does. If your life is so empty that you need to buy a video of Britney Spears and her freak of a boyfriend spend 200 dollars on a t-shirt, just shoot yourself.

This is what I don't get about religions people. Maybe someone can explain it to me. A teenager is electrocuted in her home, in a freak accident, and the mother calls it "an act of God." Pardon me for being a bit cynical, but what kind of God would want a poor girl to die in such a horrible way? It wasn't an act of any god. It was bad wiring and real shitty luck.

Like smokers aren't stigmatized enough already. Suffolk County (Long Island) is looking to enact a law that would make it illegal to smoke within 50 feet of county buildings and hospitals. Outside. They want to make it illegal for you to smoke outside. So, if you are walking past, say - a court building - and you are smoking, you would have to put your cigarette out as you walk past, or walk in the street, 50 feet away. I may no longer be a smoker, but I still say this is ridiculous. The government is not going tobe happy until they can control every aspect of your life.

Mr. Potato Head meets Bozo the Clown.

Fred Durst coins a new word. No, it doesnt have "fuck" as a prefix. Fred, in reference to all the people out there hatin' on the Bizkit: "There is so much Hatorade being drunk out there.." I don't know whether to laugh or...laugh.

Will prog rock never die???

7am: I was sitting down at my computer for a nice blog session, when I heard my uncle upstairs yelling. I went up and my aunt, who has emphysemia, was gasping for breath. Her lips were blue. I called the Fire Department. Seems like she will be ok, but it brought back a lot of bad memories of when my grandmother lived upstairs and the same thing happened, with unhappy results. Lovely way to start this dreary, rainy day.

June 12, 2001

11pm: Long day. Longer night. We had a family meeting tonight, about a lot of things, mainly my sister and her boyfriend and all the havoc they have caused in my family. i don't think I'm quite ready to blog about it in full, but let's just say some soul searching on the part of other family members made us realize that we all had a part in creating and maintaining that havoc. The talk brought out a lot of things, things I wanted to leave trapped in the back of my mind somwhere. Sometimes looking back at yourself is an ugly, ugly vision. Clean slates for everyone.

Ok, the headline here reads "Bush to Unveil Global Warming Plan" and I'm thinking his environmental policy is just one big global warming plan, now isn't it? I had this vision of Pinky and the Brain, with Brain rubbing his little hands together, plotting to take over the world.

Hey, didn't this guy used to be Ted Nugent? [link stolen from pie in the sky]

10am: The problem with a really short haircut is that if you wait too long between cuts, you start to grow a mullet. Then people will think you are listening to Whitesnake when no one is looking. So I'm going to cut the mullet today. I'm trying to do a before and after thing, but the cam doesn't do justice to the depths of the hideousness of my hair.

7am: It's gotten to the point where I don't even want to go to sleep anymore. I want to stop dreaming. Just for one night. I dread going to sleep now. I wake up in the middle of the night after the first round of nightmares and I struggle to stay awake so I don't have to continue them. And there's probably nothing I can do about it short of drinking myself into oblivion before I fall asleep, which I don't really want to do. So between the floor-shaking thunderstorm last night and the nightmares and constant waking, I am in zombie mode today.

Today is Natalie's final play performance at school. Yesterday, they put the play on for the students and DJ gave her rave reviews. After school, we are going out with my friend Barbara and her kids to celebrate her son Josh's birthday as well as Natalie's upcoming graduation.

I've been reading a little every day about the hostages in the Phillipines. The kidnappers are now claiming that they beheaded one of their American hostages. I'm just curious. Why does it seem that the U.S. is doing nothing about this if there are American hostages. I'm sure the captives being held were military personnel, our armed forces would be in there with guns blazing. So why is there no big issue about this? Why is CNN online the only place I'm reading about it? Bush hasn't made a single statement and all the State Department can say is that they are looking into reports on the situation. It's been about 3 weeks since I first read this story. They now have over 20 captives, including many children. How long does it take to "look into a report" on viscous rebels kidnapping innocent people from a resort. This country confuses me sometimes.

From Bulltown, a way to keep busy for a few hours.

June 11, 2001

9pm: Found me some nifty weblogs today. Powazek, Miz Dos and Tinyblog have all found a home in my weblog sidebar.

Note to Sheldon. Remember to tell Fredo that he's wonderful.

The reviews of Neil Gaiman's American Gods are starting to come in. Looks good so far. But then again, I'd like it even if everyone else thought it was piss. Just because it's Neil.

Holy bad memories! I was at Scarecrow's Blog and discovered that he had an mp3 of Life is a Rock (but the radio rolled me), and you will have no idea what that means unless you are as old as I am and listened to really bad AM radio in the 70's.

Christina Aguilera gets scarier by the day. Pretty soon she will beat out Michael Jackson for "most alien-like human". Until then, she remains a cross between Marilyn Manson and a 2 dollar whore.

12noon: After taking a nap and having dreams about Justin drowning in a sea of mud while my father played volleyball (in capri pants) nearby, I woke up with the realization that Timothy McVeigh is now dead. My thoughts on the matter are at group therapy.

Oh. Wow. They are making Lenore lunchboxes. I must have them. Have I mentioned my birthday is August 25th?

Scene last night at Blockbuster:

Exterior, parking lot: A 1970 Corvette Stingray, parked right in front, half in the handicapped spot, half in a park that is clearly marked off "Fire Zone," doors to said Stingray open in an spaceship type position, that being the roof and doors sort of raised, like in a Jetson car. As Justin and I are walking by the car - and I swear to Homer Simpson that we were at least 10 feet from it - a booming voice emitted from the car: THIS IS A WARNING! THIS CAR IS PROTECTED BY VIPER! PLEASE STEP BACK! I wondered aloud what would happen if we walked even closer -would a submachine gun pop out of the hood? Justin ushered me into the store before I could do any damage and I decided to play "spot who owns the Vette." He was the third person I looked at. Actually, I heard his voice first, yelling at his kid. I recognized the thick Brooklyn accent and bullying tone to be that of the 1960's era model of GuidoItalianIdioticus. As he walked into my view, I could see I hit the nail on the head. He was dressed in the standard costume of that species, a wife beater, several gold chains, slicked back hair and a fanny pack around his waist. I heard the call of the Viper go off again, as several laughing teenagers walked by the Vette. Mr. Guido stared menancingly out the window at them, just daring them with his eyes to touch his beautiful penis substitute of a car. Me? I wanted to go out there and take a sledgehammer to the car. I wanted to pound it into dust, make it unrecognizable to him. How dare he dictate how close I can walk to his car, especially when it is parked in a place he is not supposed to be parking it. Of course, I was in a "mood" yesterday, and Justin could see my fists clenching and my face turning red and he quickly hid behind the Drama section, knowing what was coming. The snarling teenagers outside were daring eachother to get closer to the car. Mr. Guido yells, through the closed doors of the store, for them to "back the fuck up" from the car. While his little guido-ette of a son was standing next to him. I calmy walked up to Mr. Guido, smiled benevolently at him, and told him to get his car out of the handicapped spot before I called the cops on him. He replied that he had to park it where he could see it. I replied that if he felt like his car was too precious to take out without him having to be so overprotective of it, then perhaps he should think about a station wagon, or something less attention calling. I then left the store to go wait for Justin in the car. As I walked past the Vette, I couldn't help myself and I brushed up against its space age door. THIS IS A WARNING. STEP AWAY FROM THE CAR. THIS CAR IS PROTECTED BY VIPER! I wanted to go back in the store and ask him just who Viper is and what he will do to me if I don't obey his orders, but I think the guy was packin heat. Or maybe he was just glad to see me.

7am: I wanted to bitchslap the entire world last night. So I didn't bother posting anything because it just would have been mean, nasty, bitter and self pitying. Why be redundant? Instead I sat at the computer and read Freakytrigger's I Hate Music blog all night. Anyhow, I am so glad to not be going in to work this week. Sure, I'm on vacation and most people do things on their vacation. Like go away to beautiful islands with people they love. Well, I am on an island already. I am with people I love. And I will spend this week mostly up at school attending: a play, a picnic, field day, a class presentation, a musical presentation. But I will also find the time to take the kids to the beach to watch the sunset, celebrate a friend's birthday, go see Shrek, and in general, enjoy the fact that I don't have to rush to work by 8 every morning, and I don't have to deal with Mr. Moron Coffee Man. Might not be a vacation by anyone else's standards but mine.

Check out the t-shirts over at Threadless. They have designs made by readers and you can vote on each of them. I believe the winners get made into real shirts. My favorites are this and this. [link stolen from Off On A Tangent]

Hey, here's a way to stop global warming! Instead of enacting sound environmental laws and regulations, we will just move the Earth to a cooler place! [link stolen from Seething Hatred]

I'm sitting here blogging away on a beautiful Monday morning, and I realize that someone is going to die in about 15 minutes. I haven't turned on the tv, because I don't want to see the protests and the counter protests and the news anchors behaving as if they are analysts at a football game. All we need is John Madden with his electronic chalk thing, outlining the walk from the cell to the death chamber. I hate the news media. I hate the way they turn everything into a spectacle of ratings and sensationalism. I hate the way they find 5,000 ways to say one thing and expound on it over and over again. I hate the way they beat a story into the ground and give the most media attention to those who least deserve it. I will not turn on my tv at all today, at least not to a news channel. I don't want to see the newscasters salivating at the prospect of someone's death, regardless of what this person did to be in this position. News people are vultures and I refuse to watch them hover over the carcass of the American justice system.

June 10, 2001

4pm: Teaching Life's Harsh Lessons to Your Children

1PM Sunday afternoon, phone rings. It's Natalie. She is calling from the pet store, where she went with her dad's girlfriend and daughter.

Nat: Hi Mom, I'm at the puppy store.
Me: No.
Nat: But MooooooOOOOom (that's about 8 syllables there)
Me: No.
Nat: This is the cutest puppy ever, I even pet him. I would even sell my computer if we could get a puppy. I don't want anything else but this puppy!
Me: We have discussed this before. We don't have room for a puppy, and no one wants to buy your brother so we can make room.
Nat: Mom...I pet him, and I fell in love with him and now I have to have him!
Me: That's what life is, Nat. Falling in love with the unatainable.
Nat. Whatever, mom.
As she hangs up the phone, I hear her whining to her father's girlfriend, "She SCREAMED at me!" Someone is going to find one can of whoop ass waiting for them when they get home tonight.

7am: I had two dreams this morning. In both of them, Justin was dead. In the first, I just sat around crying a lot, and people were reading me passages from the Bible to try to comfort me. I woke up, made sure that Justin was still breathing, heard him snoring, and went back to sleep. I then had a dream, maybe a continuation of the other, that he was again dead. I was dressed in black, with a hat on and I could see myself from the back. I was standing, facing a wall and I looked a bit like an Hasidic Jew, with the hat and the black suit on. I watched myself, and from the way my shoulders were shaking I could tell that I was sobbing. I had my face in my hands. My family was trying to get me into a train car with them, where they were about to have dinner. I can't for the life of me remember the rest of it, which really bugs me because I never have trouble remembering my dreams. Now I am feeling a bit unsettled and worried. Justin has been very sick all week, so maybe that has been on my mind. But dreaming of someone you love being dead wreaks all kinds of havoc on your day.

If the first few emails I got last night are any indication, the new Lists of 5 is going to be a winner. I was cracking up over my morning coffee at the songs you should not make love to.

Thank you, Colorado Avalanche. I do not have to listen to Devils fans the whole summer.

Tomorrow, there will be one less worthless human in the world. Honestly, I am not sure how I feel about it. I'm saving my thoughts for group therapy, and will post them at some point today.

Someone was walking around as the owner of 46 million dollars and didn't even know it. And now it's gone. Can you imagine if he realizes today, one day too late, that he had the winning ticket? What would you do if you realized you had let 46 million dollars slip through your fingers?

I've been meaning to talk about the new Tool cd and I guess now is the time, being that the Schism video is on yet again. Now, please understand that I have been a Tool fan for a long time. I have been since Opiate. I always thought that they were innovative, daring and deep and their music was the finest thing to listen to late at night on headphones. I did consider Maynard a bit of a freak, and never really got into the whole "worship at the alter of the Rev. Maynard" thing. As a matter of fact, Maynard sort of turns my stomach. Nonetheless, I loved the band and the music and Maynard's voice, if not his quirks. So I was very eager for the new cd. A Perfect Circle did not hold me over, as it did for a lot of Tool fans. I despised that cd. And now, after all this waiting, I have Lateralus. And I hate it. When I first heard Schism, I thought "hmmm, very intersting lyrics. A little long, but I like the bass line. Good moody song." And then after the 5th time,the song wore thin. The rest of the cd didn't take that long to wear thin on me. Their schtick is old. The 8 minute songs, the inaccessable lyrics, the coldness of the music...it's not what I'm looking for anymore. I didn't feel anything, and music is supposed to make me feel. It's a very sterile album that leaves you feeling as if the band has been listening to too much Rush. I loathe prog rock and this is what Tool has become. Just a heavy version of Dream Theater. And to all the people who are frothing at the mouth at how innovative and exciting the Schism video is, I guess you have never seen a Tool video before. Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm old. Maybe I'm jaded. Then again, maybe Laterus is just a bore. [direct all hate mail regarding this post here]

June 9, 2001

12noon: Hey, it's me! I finally used the cam to take a picture of myself.

7am: I took Matt from Mecawilson's challenge and sent him a little email telling him why I wanted one of his postcards. And now, thanks to my disgusting, barroom humor pleading to him, I am going to be receiving a postcard detailing ways to check my cousin's penis for gonnoreah. I hope my postman isn't at all nosy. Please.

Today I am going to make my Dumb but Happy cd mix.

More dot.com casualites: Suck, Feed and Plastic are all supposedly going bye-bye. Plastic was good for finding intersting stories, but I suppose that the opinions of pompous, pretentious people sitting at their desks trying to find ways to fill the work day just doesn't scream "back us with dollars, please!" ed. note: I was, for a time, a pompous, pretentious person sitting at my desk finding a way to fill the work day by giving my caustic, sarcastic opinions to other Plastic readers. I left with my Karma, but not my dignity, intact.


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