I'm ready to turn gay.

Will this work? God I hope so, because I am in no way kidding when I tell you that Kristen Wiig is singlehandedly saving SNL right now. I'm effing serious and I am prepared to engage in fisticuffs if necessary to defend my viewpoint.

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a dirty little secret

Ok, shh, I'm about to tell you a secret about me. NO, not that one. Dammit, why did you have to bring that up? We said we'd never talk about it again. You fucking promised. Shit, I don't even want to do this anymore. Shit. Give me a sec.

Ok, this secret is brand new. It's been simmering for a few weeks now and I now I can no longer deny it.

I like Wal-Mart.

Honestly, it took a long time for this love to bloom. I'd always been depressed by previous interactions with Wal-Marts throughout my life, but then they built one just down the street from me. I remained nonplussed. Like they had imitation crab, but not the brand I really like. So ok, mildly convenient, but. meh.

Until the Saturday morning I was running around like a madwoman--Fatima, my saintly housekeeper who I'm sure sees gross and disgusting shit of mine but would never betray me, was over, when I realised that I had no money to pay her or the wood floor polish she uses special for me. Because she loves me. So I raced up to Wal-Mart, figuring they would have the polish and then planned to pop over to the drive-up ATM where I was already bracing myself to get behind the person who hasn't been to a bank in a few years but has decided this morning to conduct approximately 93 transactions at the ATM including buying stamps, a balance transfer, and procuring a mini-statement.

Got the polish and found an open register--saw the option for cash back and asked the lady what the max was and she said $100. $100! I was expecting $20, maybe $50. Wal-Mart has gone big time. But hooray, it meant one less stop. I held Wal-Mart's hand all the way home.

Since then, I have purchased 4 beautiful bougainvilla plants on the cheap (did I have to look up how to spell that? yes, I did), spray paint for my front porch railings, a battery charger thingy, poison ivy killer concentrate, a big fluffy dog pillow for Miss Lu, and a massive container of pina colada gum. I like pina colada. Plus there was a weird visit where I ended up buying index cards, a steak, and a copy of Raging Bull.

In conclusion, Wal-Mart and I are more than just friends now. I think we may go all the way!

A reminder of how much there is to learn

I was cleaning out some stuff this weekend and found a small booklet of bookmarks that my parents gave me last Christmas. They are of Irish writers, and each one features the author's name, picture, and a quote from one of his works. They have one for each month, so it's meant to be some sort of calendar as well.

I had totally forgotten about this and put it on a shelf, so when I took it out, I just flipped to May and found that this month is dedicated to Samuel Beckett. His picture shows a stern man with a deeply lined face, and the quote is from the one-act play Krapp's Last Tape. And it reads:

"Perhaps my best years are gone . . . but I wouldn't want them back. Not with the fire in me now."

I've tacked it to the door leading down to the basement and read it everytime I'm on my way out.

Mama, trains, pick-up trucks, and getting drunk

So I did something out of the norm on Friday. My dear friend Warrenburg calls me on Thursday night and leaves me a 932 minute voicemail that tells me the following:

• She is borderline-mentally retarded
• No one has ever talked slower in the history of man
• There is a free show for us to go to!
• It's David Allen Coe, a musician that all Texans are required to see play live, preferably in either a musty whisky-soaked bar with peanut shells on the floor or in the middle of a field under a hot sun with no shade swigging Lone Star/Shiner/ok, Olympia while hugging each other inappropriately and slurring along to "You Never Even Called Me By My Name."

So fast-forward to Friday night, whereupon MW and I are trekking up to Kennesaw to a fine musical venue called Cowboys. Over the entrance there is a big sign that says, and I quote, "Through these doors walk the most beautiful women in GEORGIA!" We read this at the same time, and without so much as a confirming glance to the other, we sashayed in.

Cowboys is a very large place. There are 2 main bars on either side, with 4 smaller bars anchoring the corners and THEN 4-6 little kiosk bars scattered around. There are also about 63 women walking around at any given time with trays of shooters. We had Tequila Rose, which some say is the nastiest shit on the planet, but which I say is yummy and delicious and shut up. One of the first things we noticed is that people really like to dance at Cowboys. Like line dance in unison. There was something calming about watching it, though, and it's also uncommon these days for me to see men dancing in a organised manner. One of the fellows was really good and Warrenburg and I kept saying things like, "Ooh he twirled!" and "Look at that kick!" to each other. We have a very low threshold for being entertained.

This was proven again when we sat by one of the beer kiosks and, without warning, two of the beer harlots leapt atop the beer bin and began dancing on the rim of it ala Coyote Ugly. This is apparently an ordinary occurance in Cowboys that has become tiresome and boring, because absolutely no one in the entire place took any notice, except the two of us who were literally agape. I kept flinching because one of the girls was wearing really high heels and was approximately a millimeter away from the edge as she flung her body around. If there was a fall, it was going to hard and disfiguring. I was extremely nervous and pined for a Tequila Rose.

Then the show started and DAC came on stage. Now, I don't recall Mr. Coe ever being a wholly attractive man, but damn. This is what I am talking about. And I think this would be considered a good picture. He is very large and has very long hair and a long beard that is braided by colored threads into two strings that are at least 2 feet long. You will not lose David Allen Coe in a crowd. You will never confuse him with someone else. The image of him is like a branding iron on the brain.

Anyway, he had this interesting thing of playing one song for a couple of minutes then seamlessly going right into another one without pause or applause. It was extremely efficient. Then Warrenburg got a text from his wife/manager Miss Kim that said to meet her by the side of the stage. She took us backstage and we were like neat. Then she said, let's watch the show up here and parted a curtain that I could see was actually the back of the stage itself. And we walked up onstage and ended up watching the show about 10 feet away from the man himself while standing on the side of the stage. The whole crowd was right there and I had the following thoughts repeating in my head:

• No stumbling/tripping/falling
• Don't slouch and suck your gut in
• Drink your beer nicely and no dribbling
• God I hope this dress isn't too short and I'm unwittingly showing my ladyparts

Despite this, it was really fun being up there. MW and I kept pinching each other and grinning. Afterwards, we went out to the back with DAC, Miss Kim, and posse and hung out and talked for a bit. I definitely get the appeal of being a groupie now.

Next we are working on nicely exploiting MW's DAC connections to see if we can get into Willie Nelson's private 4th of July parties in Austin this year. Where I'm sure there will be absolutely no marijuana.

Good.

File under: songs that make me happy

Yay so the other day I was driving into work and flipping around on the radio and I caught the end of Lola by the Kinks. And I was bummed because it's one of my favourite songs and I missed it. But this morning I flipped around and caught the beginning of it! And I was ridiculously happy and turned it up really loudly and sang raucously along to it much to the delight of the other drivers around me I'm sure.

You see, it takes so little to please me. And yes, I know that I should probably just buy it on iTunes and then I could listen to it whenever I want. But then I wouldn't have surprise delight moments like this morning, now would I? It seems like the fellows above are agreeing with me on this point. The guy on the far right is like, "Yeeeep, that's right, Eleanor--wouldn't be the same."

I promise you I've only had coffee this morning.

Is that a hematoma in your ear or are you just glad to see me?

So Saturday night I had a couple of friends over for a lobster boil. And by that I mean that we wanted someone else to kill the lobsters and we enjoy their yummy insides. But the fellows at the farmer's market sneered when we suggested that, so we ended up going home with three live ones slowly suffocating in a plastic bag. It was to be a rather dark evening.

I'm saving it for another post when I can put in the pics, but later on the same night, we were sitting outside drinking wine around a fire. I was petting ever-present Lu when I felt an enormous bulge. . . in her ear. It didn't seem to particularly bother her and also I was extremely full and drunk, so I was pretty calm about it. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it until the morning, and I thought I remembered that my vet was open on Sundays so I made a mental note to check online. Once I was able to stand and walk and operate a computer again.

I think it's important now to show you a visual of what we're dealing with here. I didn't take a picture of her yesterday, but I found this picture online of an aural hematoma--that's what she has. Clearly, however, this dog is white but Lu is black--well, mostly, I left her little white chin--so I had to do some doctoring up of the image.

On a related note, it is really hard to colour in images using powerpoint. I was stunned to realised there is no spray paint option--I mean jesus how effing basic is that? So I had to use a million free form shape squiggly thingies and connect them to fill them in with black. It took me about 20 minutes because I kept messing up and then getting frustrated and checking my email or ebay or something.

On a related note, I'm not very busy at work today.

Anyway, I finally got her coloured in--you will note I even made her eyes brown for an added touch of realism. Then I put a thought bubble in with what I know she is thinking about at any given time and capped it all off with an emphasis on the hematoma itself.

Voila!

Anyway, the better part of $200 later, she is on antibiotics for an ear infection and steroids for the hematoma. I keep daydreaming about coming home and catching her lifting weights in the corner of the basement.

Hematoma! Hematoma! Maybe I should make-up a song about it. Anyway, her medication schedule is extremely complex and I'm a little nervous about fucking it up. I had to write it all out on a calendar last night and put up notes on every exit door in the house that say LU MEDS.

I'm going to be a great mom!

by the way

These are the shoes I am wearing today. It's all I can do to not burst out singing, "I feel pretty! Oh so preeetty! I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!"

Because that's Claire's theme song.

siiiiiigh.

Despite the fact that I have been employed here for almost four years, I have never felt more like a temp like I did all day yesterday and will likely feel again today.

This is spring break week for almost all the area schools and NO ONE IS HERE. Honestly, I would say 60% of the total staff is off this week and 85-90% of the HR staff is gone. God effing forbid we have some shit go down at a time like this. Actually, I would love it. Anyway, yesterday I was so bored that I felt like there was nothing interesting left on the internet. I made 4 purchases. I ate leftovers alone at my desk. I looked at the clock 983 times. I checked my email 722 times. I agonised over when I should actually leave and ending up leaving at a rather non-suspect time, quietly and without fanfare.

It was all very sad. And today will probably be more of the same. I have got to get a new job.

lotsa lolla lineup lather

So the lineup was announced on Monday. Correspondingly, I spent a rather significant amount of time drawing up a spreadsheet with all the bands, my knowledge of them, a desire rating to see them on a scale of 1-10, and any additional notes. It was my hope that I could use some or all of this data to create some kind of chart of graph, but I couldn't figure it out how to do it. This all seemed pretty normal to me. But last night, I had the following conversation with my sister Claire:

CQ: "So the lolla lineup is out. . ."
EQ: "Yeah, I know. I created this little excel spreadsheet that had all the bands on it, if I'd heard of them, if I want to see them, and any other information that I thought would be helpful."
CQ: "Helpful for what? Why would you do that?"
EQ: "Um, so I can organise my thoughts about the bands. To be able, to, uh, map out my strategy."
CQ: silence

So another reminder that life is a constant process of self-reflection.

Friday morning sing-a-long!

This morning, something magical happened. Like most magical moments, I wasn't even expecting it. Groggily getting dressed for work this morning, I grabbed a pair of jeans (yay Friday), NOT KNOWING that, in fact, they were my skinny jeans. Which I haven't been able to wear in a while.

BUT NOT TODAY!!!! I'm back in my skinny jeans! I have been triumphantly parading around the office all morning, greedily snorting compliments like fluffy lines of cocaine. It makes me want to siiiiiiiiiing! And so, The Skinny Jean Song.

I'm back in my skinny jeans, back in my skinny jeans
There was a day I thought I'd never fit in 'em
But here I am, looking fab in demin!
'Cause I'm back in skinny jeans, I feel like a winner
Still have a-ways to go
But I certainly don't feel low
In my skinny jeans, so slim and slender!

*

*not my actual skinny jeans, for demonstration purposes only

Dear government, here's some more money that you won't be able to account for.

So I casually mentioned to a friend last night that I'm planning on doing my taxes this weekend. And he said, "What? You haven't done your taxes yet? But they're due in two weeks!" To which I said, "Yes, I have two weeks. This is plenty of time to do my taxes. A lot of people do their taxes at the last minute." I watch the news, I see the long lines at the post offices on the night of the 15th. If I want to be on television and get free doughnuts, I just may very well be one of those people this year.

Then he throws out a completely unfounded statistic, saying that 99% of people have already completed their taxes by this point. I think this is complete and utter bullshit and to prove my point, I'm going to seek out some highly unreliable intranet research on the topic RIGHT NOW.

Okay, I just found this:

Most Americans file their income taxes in late January and early February (shurrup) when they receive their W-2 forms with the aim of receiving a tax refund. Filing diminishes after that point until the last week before the April 15 deadline when between 10 and 20 percent of Americans file their returns.

Meaning that only 80-90% of non-procrastinating Americans have filed up to this time. And that's certainly not a laughable 99%. Ha! Ha!

On a related note, I found these pictures associated with last-minute filing. I definitely plan on looking like one of them when I finish.

This guy is just simply defeated. Because he waited until the last minute AND he's an itemiser! Just look at those receipts! Take the standard and take a break, buddy. Shit.

This guy is just fucking ridiculous. Seriously, they could not have paid this guy enough money to look so gay. Sadly, he kind of looks like an ex-boyfriend of mine. Who, to my knowledge, was not gay, merely your garden-variety stalker-fucker. Good times.

The more I look at this lady, the more it hurts. Calls to mind the old adage, a finger is worth a thousand words. Well said, sir, well said.

On a closing note, while I am not anticipating big problems with the old tax return, my financially inclined friends should probably be aware that I may be contacting you this weekend. Crying. Just send me to voicemail, it will be better for everyone involved.

Time warp!

Favourite site right now: someecards.com. Sampling below:

Topical!

Little to close to home!

Jesus this blogging thing is hard to keep up with--I was convinced that it had only been a couple of days since my last post and here is is, actually EIGHT. Some things that have happened to me:

I hit my 10% weight-loss goal this week. It's gone, hopefully not to return until I trap a man into marriage and then brianwilsonballoon on him so that my fat grows around my wedding ring and makes it a permanent part of my body and a permanent reminder for him that he will never ever be able to get rid of me no matter how hard he tries with those streetwalkers and skanky hos.

In other news, and in no relation to the claptrap above I swear to sweet baby jesus, I went on a date last night. And it was fun. And I am going to see him again. And you can't stop me.

Crotchety-yet-less-of-me

First of all, I think this is the best blog title I have ever come up with. EVER.

The explanation for it is two-fold. First of all, I realised this morning that something I do everyday may, in fact, look incredibly weird to someone else. And by someone else, I mean the guy in the car next to me at a stoplight on the way to work. And by something I mean take the eyelash curler out of my crotchal region where I put it to warm it up so that it curls my eyelashes better.

Because I do all my make-up in the car. But plenty of women do, right? And plenty of women use eyelash curlers, right? And when they're cold, they don't work as well, right?

Is anyone with me on this? Because the guy next to me acted as if I had produced a rabbit from my vagina and was now eating it live.

The second thing is that I weighed in today and I've lost 3 pounds since my last weigh-in! I do think most of it is water weight, though. And the fact that I removed everything to the point of being only slightly dressed before hopping on the scale. And the fact that I made myself throw up 4 times this week. Kidding!

Still, I'm pleased. And my eyelashes look grrreat!

It's true!

So, posting for the first time when you haven't done so in 3 months is a little intimidating. After all, what could be the trigger event that would inspire one to pick up after a QUARTER OF A YEAR, leaving her friends and family in a turmoiled limbo, gnashing their teeth and wailing, "When, when, WHEN??? WILL SHE POST AGAIN?"

But then I found that topic. And it is:DanActive immunity drinks.

They're really tasty. Try them for yourselves. Except Leah, I guess, who can't. Ha ha!

In related news, I've gotten mean since you last heard from me. Old age.