See what an a-hole

The kerpupples can see that the spousal unit and I are frazzled down to our last nerve, and are sending us off on a much-needed vacation on Saturday. Spousal unit has cleverly started pronouncing Zihuatanejo as the title of the post. It works, but I hope we don't see too many a-holes while we're there. We're staying in Ixtapa, which is an ajdacent planned-resort town similiar to but smaller than Cancun. We plan on spending a fair amount of time in Zih though - maybe keep our eyes open for Andy Dufresne or his offspring. I was suprised to see that the population is as large as it is, as Mr. King represented it as a tiny fishing village in Shawshank. But, maybe it was in the era in which Shawshank took place.

The kerpupples have decided to take the opportunity to spend time with our friend James and his 2 pooches. Though time in the presence of the kerpupples is payment in itself, we offered to bring him back a sweet mamacita should we see the opportunity. James buddy, maybe this would be one way to stick it, albeit in a very small way, to the Republican majority and their immigration focus. You could marry her and keep her here. Waddaya think?

But she's a HOO-AH!

OK, I just have to say that I pegged a subplot on the Sopranos this season. Carmela does indeed seem to be catching wind of Adriana getting whacked. I predicted that she would cause trouble about it. Based on what we've seen of her feeling listless and seeming to admire Angie the auto shop mobstrina having her own deal, I'm wondering if she might want to get into the business herself. We shall see.

Another storyline I'm still wondering whether or not I may have called deals with AJ. I thought that maybe we might see him get made before the end of the series. He certainly seems to have a desire for the money and glamour that comes along with it, and Tony has gotten him a job in "construction" (if he works as little as Finn did when he had a construction job last season, I pity AJ not at all). I'll be watching this one closely as well.

Dammit - I could be a Sopranos writer!

Flipper as a misnomer?

So according to this article and Newsweek, dolphins, are one of the three species on the planet that give their members individual names, along with the bespectacled parrotlet and homo sapiens. Newsweek claims that they also seem to repeat their own names quite frequently. Self-centered? The research seems to show that it's actually a way of communicating their state of being, a'la "George is getting angry!"

I swam with dolphins in Mexico a few years ago (I think the jury is still out as to whether this sort of activity is considered to be beneficial or detrimental to the dolphins themselves, though PETA no doubt decries it is evil), and was truly amazed to be in proximity with these beautiful creatures. You can place your ear under the water when they surround you and hear their conversations. What are they saying? "George thinks this is one funny looking thing swimming with us"? "George would ram this thing with his nose if it wouldn't cause George's fish to be withheld?" Or perhaps, "These odd finless creatures seem to be communicating with each other"? One day hopefully the code will be cracked.

No motivation

That's it...just needed to put that out there. And that includes that effed up FFF starter sentence. Got all inspired about doing a piece about Mickey Mouse making arranngements to screw someone he met in a sex chat room (321 is the Orlando area code), but couldn't get off my ass to do it.

I feel like a junkie

I work in Corporate America. In opting to veer away from the frequent travel required from life as a consultant, I took a position as a relative peon. And peons don't get to do things like have three martini lunches.

But I did. Well, not quite. I think our culture as a whole has veered away from that, which has its pros and cons. But I had a glass of wine at lunch. And was very annoyed with myself for feeling guilty and fearing getting caught afterwards. I'm a thirty-something, responsible adult. What the hell is wrong with taking a nip when I lunch with friends and coming back to the office? Smokers don't catch the same sort of flak for taking their fix, and on company grounds no less.

And why have we become such a goddamn goody-two-shoes society? Health nuts? Republicans in congress? Why is it so difficult to accept our freakin' humanity? It's unreasonable to expect to be a fat-free, Disney-watching, kink-abhorring, teetotalling, clean-mouthed infallible....robot. And we set ourselves up for disappointment in aspiring to such things. Better to accept our flaws and warts, even take the good that can arise from them.

New age hooey - now for pets!

First off, I want to qualify this observation by stating that I'm a yogini. I dig it. I'm still aspiring to get my heels all the way to the ground in downward-facing dog, because I'm a damn inflexible lass. But it has done wonders for my posture, my spinal health, ability to cope with stress, and overall well-being.

Well, some marketing wonder (I say this not entirely facetiously, because people actually pay money for this crap) deciced they needed to share the goodness that is yoga with the canine world. Hence the birth of yoga classes for dogs. Err, excuse me. Doga.

Is it really a suprise to anyone that a dog would do a pose such as upward-facing dog? The pose was named after the animal's natural stretching posture. If I didn't think it were strange and somewhat cruel, I'd be interested in seeing how a yogi coaxes a dog into, say, a warrior pose.

But I'd bet money that folks like Gwyneth and Madonna send their pooches to such classes. And therein lies the genius.

Idiots and Assholes

Today is one of those days at work. I am surrounded by idiots and assholes. I dream of the days as a successful novelist when the only idiot or asshole I have to work with is myself. Sure, there will be the editor, the agent, the publisher (assuming I am indeed succesful these folks will fall into the latter category but not the former), but those relationships shouldn't require intimate daily interaction.

Not feeling it today? Let me help you out with that. Here's some links below so that you can envelop yourself in idiots and assholes too. At no extra charge, some of them are even two-fers.

• There is no such thing as a chemical imbalance.
• Remember me? You made fun of me first!
• Looky - I can act! Waddayamean you'd rather see the sex tape?
• Teletubbies - burn in hell.
• I can't handle marble breasts - only boob I can tolerate is the one in the mirror.
• We didn't do anything immoral. We're not freaks. Stop chasing us or we'll sick our pet cheetah Billy Bob on you!

And in mocking the God Hates Fags guy, I just have to remind everyone that it's not homosexuals but shrimp that really bothers the guy behind the pearly gates.

Extortion!

Don't ever get a speeding ticket in Northglenn, Colorado.

This happened to me a few weeks ago. Got popped going about 12 miles over the speed limit. I was not told onsite what I was charged with, but that I would receive something in the mail shortly informing me of how to deal with the citation.

I received the notification on Friday. Strangely enough, it still didn't tell me what I was being charged with. However, it did helpfully inform me that I could choose to plea to a lesser offense of Unlawful Lane Change. This plea would reduce the amount of points off my license to 3. All for the paltry fee of $190.

WHAT???!!@!^&~!#%@&

If I opt to not accept their generous offer I must attend court. For what charge, I don't know. How many points am I facing? They didn't tell me. Cost? Not a clue.

So now, I must wade through their red tape to determine what is indeed the best course of action. This will no doubt involve being transferred among several departments in order to find someone in the courthouse with enough knowledge to answer my simple questions. I suspect many people are intimidated into just paying whatever the man asks for in this situation. Uh-uh. Not me. Will it be worth my time? Probably not, but on principle it's the only course of action I can take.

Flash Fiction Friday #36

A cool breeze licked the back of her neck as she carefully climbed out onto the girder of the Queensboro. Unlike Harvey, she was the picture of health for an elderly woman, and it served her well in making her journey from the small home they had shared in Woodhaven for longer than she could bear to recall to the perch she now occupied. Most of the gnarled old bats in her neighborhood could barely get several steps out their front doors before beckoning (she chuckles lightly in her mind at the thought of Ruth Finkelstein issuing any request so polite as to be characterized as beckoning) to their children or husbands for aid. So frustrated they would get. She would gladly exchange her own robustness for more time with Harvey.

Harvey. Such a maelstrom of emotions thoughts of him stirred. Fondess, laughter, indescribable grief and horror regarding the way the disease rotted him from the outside to his core in so short a span of time. But most of all, out of thoughts of Harvey arose deep love and tortuous longing. These last two feelings were what brought her to where she now stood.

As if from another universe or a long-forgotten era, she is vaguely conscious of people noticing her from the pedestrian path on the bridge, even over the cacophony of cars and taxis and buses. She was aware this might happen. Though she couldn't seem to pinpoint when it had started, over the last few years a minor miracle had occured. New Yorkers seemed to care about the well being of their fellow citizens. Right then, on with the task at hand.

She wills herself to look up from her feet and takes in Manhattan beyond the East River. Such a glorious city. When her grandmother would take her on their treasured outings to Central Park as a girl, she would vow each time that she would never live anywhere else. And so she felt today, but in addition could not even bear the sight of the source of such fond memories knowing that she would never share another with Harvey.

"Ma'am. Hey ma'am! You gotta get..." an authoritative voice shouts at her. It is growing louder.

Dear, dear Harvey. I hope to see you soon. She sucks in one last deep breath and, resolve steeled, steps off the girder towards the waters of the East.

Soundtrack

OK, want to know if there's anybody else out there like this. More often than not I seem to have a soundtrack playing in my head. Oftentimes it's a song that relates to something going on in my life (i.e. "Mountain Song" by Jane's Addiction when I am skiing, "Don't Lie" by the Black Eyed Peas when I'm tempted to be dishonest, or "Possum Kingdom" by the Toadies). Other times it's just some random jingle or bit of music that gets garrilously lodged in my craw. That's what's there now. "Spider man, spider man, does whatever a spider can."

I think it's a result of being a Real World addict during my formative early adult years (sidebar - Real World is coming to Denver!!!). That I need to feel like my life fits into a set of tried and true experiences. Or that I really am off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz.

Friday evening

Just had another sitting with Saturday. The conflict has started. Things are coming together. I'm drawn in.

Bill Maher is listing his New Rules in the background as I type. Normally I find his humor intelligently cutting, but I just can't be bothered tonight. I'm afraid he's just starting to turn into another talking head.

I'm feeling that too-much-sun buzz from being out playing golf today. That's certainly a groovy feeling, isn't it (though I must admit, it is enhanced a teensy bit by a Newcastle)? But man - I kicked ass at golf. Well, for me anyway. Basically that means I hit the ball straight and didn't double par plus one every hole. I'm psyched.

Random thought for the day - annoying people suck. Not just a little.

Saturday

So despite the miniscule amounts of free time I have lately, I'm still trying to get my leisure read in. The book is Ian McEwan's Saturday.

His prose is just mesmerizing. I am still haunted when I think of certain passages from Atonement. I love all the medical terminology he's using (main character is a neurosurgeon) and the backdrop of a post-September 11th London is fresh and relevant. But I'm just not pulled in yet like I was with Atonement. I think I need to dedicate more time to a sitting than I have been.

God's work, part deux

A few weeks ago the kerpupples took the spousal unit and I camping just south of Moab, Utah. I'd never been to the area before. Even though I grew up in Northwest New Mexico and have seen my fair share of sandstone formations, this still took my breath away. The picture below was taken at Canyonlands National Park, near where we camped.



It amazes me that that lazy little trickle called the Colorado River that you see meandering its way through the bottom of this magnificent chasm created the whole scene. Clearly its course has slowed significantly over the centuries.

The camping was fun, mainly because it was the first trip of the season. The soil was very dusty, making it somewhat challenging to pitch a tent. Ripley loved it though, as it made for easy diggin' during her obligatory camping critter chase.








The town of Moab was a tad bit disappointing. There was a Jeep Safari being held there that weekend so it was very crowded. The spousal unit got quite a kick out of a restaurant sign that read "Welcome Jeep Safarians". Equated it to Rastafarianism. He really is a clever dear. Also, while dining in a greasy spoon, we overheard a local real estate agent commenting that locals can't afford the real estate there as 25K a year is quite a good income in the area. That sort of plight troubles me.

Can she even push the pram?

OK - this is taking it just too far. And you know what's crazy? She's not the oldest ever. The oldest is 66.

This woman is going to be 81 years old when her child finishes high school. She'll be shuttling him/her around to extracurricular activities when she should be interviewing retirement communities. As a woman having some trouble conceiving, I'm certainly all for fertility treatments. But within reason. I wouldn't be doing it 30 years from now. This sort of thing is selfish and short-sighted.

No martyrdom for you!!!

So Moussaoui doesn't get his 70 virgins waiting for him in Heaven after we gas him. He gets to spend his life pondering his faith and his choices while locked in a box (though IMHO, he's insane and won't really be doing much useful soul-searching). He said “America, you lost. I won.”, but you know he was really thinking, "D'oh!!!".

It's the just verdict as well - this dog-lover would have a hard time putting someone to death who didn't actually participate in the actual execution of the 9/11 attacks. Call him the Muslim Terry Nichols.

Voyeuristic mountain

Interesting...a recent turn of events has caused me to realize that I am a voyeur. No, not that kind of voyeur. I get off on knowing of the intimate details of another person's life. But as I thought about it, I realized that this shouldn't suprise me. I love to read and am an aspiring published novelist. What am I doing when reading, either a biography or an account of a fictional character, but peeking into another's most private, naked thoughts? And it goes even beyond that. I want to manipulate those thoughts. Hence the desire to write. Sounds like a recipe for success if I can make it interesting, eh?

Driving in to the office today I felt very grateful that I am not travelling for work this time of year as I have done in the past. Springtime in the Rockies is truly a glorious sight to behold. The sight of Long's Peak, with vast expanses of greenery growing out of its base towards me - it leaves one at a loss for words, feeling so very small but at the same time so very lucky. This type of scenery can make one believe in God.

Wearing some tall heels today. I used to be so ashamed of my height - I cringe now to think how I would hunch over as a teenager, trying to shrink to fit in. Now I revel in that height. I am a tall, glorious mountain (though certainly not as awe-inspiring as the peaks I am surrounded by).