Watching The Olympics With Ryan

At the head shop today, my co-worker, Richard, ordered me to go home, chill out and watch the Olympics. He had orders from me to go to the best taqueria in town, located inside a sketchy but awesome mercado, home to a metal, paint-flaking chicken machine that is most likely a decade older than I am. For the cost of two quarters or four bits, you get the chicken to loudly bawk bawk bawk and turn on its metal rod as it lays an egg that most likely contains a small plastic fairy with a birth defect of the face.

So of course I held up my end of the deal but you can't watch the Olympics alone. Enter Ryan Talbot who, appropriately (see his MySpace if you don't get the punchline) makes a better door than a window. I just had to poke him now and again sharply with one of three remotes that operate the one television I own that is merely hooked up to a PS2 that plays DVD's like it's scratching on a turntable. I wish I could hook up the DVD player but we're lucky the PS2 is hooked up. My Mom gets big ups for that and knowing what input and output and coaxial mean. *Insert Peanuts adult speak here*

We both thought the interview Bob Costas did with President Bush was stellar. Mostly because Bob Costas is so cool that he was just slightly above asking Dubya how to spell "cat" because clearly our leader was terrified the Chinese were going to dump a crap ton of Sesame Chicken in his bed while he was away, trying his hardest, clenching the air (he didn't even think to bring his own pencil), announcing that "America has no problems" and "China should just accept religion." We also got a nice shot of a replay in which Prime Minister Putin stood in front of a tortured Mrs. Bush with his ass in her face while in conversation with her husband.

Note: Beverly Hills Chihuahua will be coming to a theatre near you October 3rd. You should probably check for midnight showings and buy tickets ahead of time.

Just so you know, this paragraph would have been really funny and about Michael Phelps but a gag order on ha ha's about the famous, alleged oily bo hunk swimmer has been put in place by Ryan "Goobleygook" Talbot, who can't even get slang correct. "This paragraph is harder for me to read than it is to understand my mumbling,"--Ryan Talbot.

*cough*

Words that are awesome at the Olympics so far:
*Breaststroker
*Titular
*Wingspan
*Stroke
*Lengths
*Peirsol
*Heat
*Ready Room

If anything else good happens, I'll let you know. I mean, other than Ryan re-attaching the chain to the thing that makes my toilet flush. Also, Papa Johns doesn't mind if you tip them in quarters.

Old People Are About To Get Older

blubeard11: hey neighbor
Wendy York: hey...do you live in my building?
blubeard11: I don't know
blubeard11: all I know is you live in greeley with me
blubeard11: where do you live in town?
Wendy York: near the university
blubeard11: im near the mall, U?
blubeard11: well u in college ?
Wendy York: no
blubeard11: your profile says your not looking ?? why not?
blubeard11: you get to meet all sorts of neat guys online
Wendy York: oh i know.
blubeard11: I just turned 47 don't know what im looking for
Wendy York: that's why i'm not looking
blubeard11: im off college for the summer, just kicking back with some beers and swimming in the pool
Wendy York: you're in college?
blubeard11: yes
blubeard11: I have 8 more classes and I graduate
Wendy York: congratulations
blubeard11: for an associates degree and a few computer certificates
Wendy York: and what will you be doing after college, young man?
blubeard11: then its more classes at aims, then last year online at a 4 year college
Wendy York: and then?
Wendy York: what then?
blubeard11: well should get a good job in IT
Wendy York: should?
blubeard11: well the market should be better by then
Wendy York: you've got to have a plan in this high paced world
Wendy York: the market?
Wendy York: what's that got to do with it?
blubeard11: well running a server / servers is a good paying job
Wendy York: yes but it's competitive
blubeard11: the job market
Wendy York: it's going to get more competitive
blubeard11: yes and I have a better chance getting into a job with a ba than an assoc.
Wendy York: you've got all these whippersnappers to contend with too
blubeard11: well I hope to get some experence as im going to college
Wendy York: yes but ...i hate to say it. companies are ageist
blubeard11: companies are aganst what
Wendy York: ageist
Wendy York: they are ageist
Wendy York: always have been
blubeard11: well older people are more apt to stay with a company instead of looking for a better one
blubeard11: like the younger crowd does
blubeard11: so what do you do for a living
blubeard11: ???????
Wendy York: true. and i'm not trying to discourage you but they will have to pay you a 401k a lot sooner than freshy fresh spring chicken over there.
Wendy York: i am a visual artist and a writer
blubeard11: that's an interesting job
Wendy York: you have NO idea
blubeard11: nope, ive worked for binderies and mailing houses, not for the printers
Wendy York: i don't work for printers
blubeard11: ok
Wendy York: well kind of
Wendy York: i am a slave to my photo printers
Wendy York: i have experience in binding too
Wendy York: it's kind of a bitch
blubeard11: binderies don't pay that much unless you run the machines
Wendy York: oh i worked for a large corporation that merged with a shipping company
blubeard11: cool
Wendy York: then one day i was trying to manually bind something with a wooden cover and it was the last straw
blubeard11: ive mostly worked for mom and pop shops
Wendy York: and i walked out
Wendy York: so why the career change?
blubeard11: ive always been good with computers
Wendy York: why didn't you become a massage therapist?
Wendy York: i hear that's a big field
blubeard11: don't have the wrists for it
Wendy York: but you have to have wrists for computer work.....?
Wendy York: you're going to get carpal tunnel syndrome
Wendy York: and you won't be able to hold your beers
blubeard11: well hopfully I wont have to do much typing
Wendy York: um.
Wendy York: so do you magically meld things?
Wendy York: are you uri geller?!!!
blubeard11: lol nope
Wendy York: right. he worked with spoons and was a fake anyway
blubeard11: ok
Wendy York: what if you took an online course in medical billing?
Wendy York: you could work from home
blubeard11: ive done medical billing before
Wendy York: why did you leave that?! i hear that's a cash cow!
Wendy York: you can work in your underpants!
blubeard11: it was for a mom and pop shop
blubeard11: they didn't have the machines
Wendy York: what machine?
blubeard11: to insert the bill into the envelope
Wendy York: that's just stupid
blubeard11: I know how to run those
Wendy York: it sounds like these mom and pop shops are screwing you over
Wendy York: they're holding you back
blubeard11: yes, they don't pay much
Wendy York: you could have all the cash
blubeard11: that's why im going for IT
Wendy York: no man.
Wendy York: you just need to start your own business with the medical billing
Wendy York: get the machine
Wendy York: work at 2 am if you want
blubeard11: that's an expensive machine
Wendy York: well then hire some kid to lick the envelopes
Wendy York: they're machines anyway
blubeard11: lol
Wendy York: what?
Wendy York: they are
Wendy York: they have unending energy
Wendy York: harness it
blubeard11: I get bills from doctors all the time, they farm it out to the mailing companys to insert the bill into the envelope
Wendy York: well you don't NEED the machine
Wendy York: see! i just saved you tons of money and you don't have to have a kid around
blubeard11: I don't know who needs medical billing, they all seem to have it covered
Wendy York: no! they don't! it's blowing up!
Wendy York: sick people are everywhere
Wendy York: people are sicker than ever before
blubeard11: ill look into medical billing
Wendy York: yeah. old people are about to get older
blubeard11: don't know of any hospital looking for help in that area
Wendy York: no. doctor's offices
blubeard11: I used to look up icd-9 codes for billing of the patient
Wendy York: iced tea 9?
blubeard11: hot pack, massage, etc ... has icd 9 codes
blubeard11: that's medical coding
Wendy York: see. you're already trained
Wendy York: you just need to find out how to find contracts.
blubeard11: well I don't have the icd-9 book to code from
Wendy York: you're just all over the place
Wendy York: you can buy them. they're 63.95.
Wendy York: you should do it
blubeard11: why don't you do it, if it is that great
Wendy York: because i'm an artist
blubeard11: then maybe we can go into business together
Wendy York: uh. i'm a loner. a rebel. you don't want to get mixed up with me.
blubeard11: even loners need company now and again
blubeard11: lol
Wendy York: no they don't. that's the definition of a loner.
Wendy York: i can order everything from the intraweb
Wendy York: the least amount of contact with the rest of the population the better
Wendy York: unless they happen to be a cowboy
Wendy York: a real one
Wendy York: i need to talk to one of those
Wendy York: but i digress
blubeard11: hummmm tight pointy shoes, tight pants, big belt buckle, ill pass, but im still a nice guy
Wendy York: do you ride the range?
Wendy York: on a horse?
Wendy York: do you lasso things?
blubeard11: no, I have rode a horse before
Wendy York: but is it your JOB?
blubeard11: nope
Wendy York: ok
blubeard11: you want you a rich cowboy
Wendy York: no.
Wendy York: it's for research purposes
Wendy York: cowboys don't tend to be rich
Wendy York: also they are loners
blubeard11: oh, sorry don't know of anyone that has that job title
Wendy York: it's cool
Wendy York: you just walk YOUR line and you will be alright
blubeard11: true
Wendy York: stay away from the mom and pop shops. they appear nice and quaint but they are just out to bamboozle you with their lack of envelope machines
Wendy York: who does that? how do they operate?
Wendy York: sickies
blubeard11: well they also teach you more than one maching to run making you more in demand for the company
blubeard11: that's the only good they have going for them
Wendy York: at the mom and pop shop? you're in demand at the "company?"
blubeard11: I cant stand 8 hours a day anymore. that's why I picked a sit down job, one with computers
Wendy York: do you have glasses?
blubeard11: no
Wendy York: prepare to get them
blubeard11: I only need glasses for fine print
Wendy York: nope. eye strain is in your future, mr.
Wendy York: it will start with squinting
blubeard11: pop a few asprin and good to go
blubeard11: lol
Wendy York: you can't fix eyes with aspirin
Wendy York: who told you that? mom and pop?
blubeard11: no. you get migraines from squining, that's what the asprin is for
Wendy York: yes and then after that you need glasses
Wendy York: that's what happened to me in the third grade
blubeard11: dang
blubeard11: are you a hottie even with glasses ?
Wendy York: i normally wear glasses
blubeard11: nothing wrong with that
Wendy York: no
Wendy York: i buy the sample glasses at dr's offices to wear over my contacts for accessories sometimes
Wendy York: sometimes i just wear contacts
blubeard11: that's cool
Wendy York: again. i digress
Wendy York: america's best is a good place to go
Wendy York: if you don't have eye insurance
Wendy York: just so you have things to think about if you're going to be staring at computers all day
Wendy York: it's inevitable
blubeard11: yep
Wendy York: okay.
Wendy York: to recap
Wendy York: what's the plan?
blubeard11: go to college for medical billing
Wendy York: i thought you already knew it?
blubeard11: find contacts who need medical billing
blubeard11: start own business
Wendy York: roll around in cash
blubeard11: ill check into it, I don't know how big of a need that there is, but ill check
Wendy York: there's a HUGE need
Wendy York: you're going to think "thank god i talked to that artist!"
blubeard11: ill check into it
blubeard11: I can do it part time while going to college
Wendy York: you need more of a "can do" attitude
Wendy York: there you go
Wendy York: now off into the world with a fresh face!
blubeard11: so why are you not doing it parttime
Wendy York: i don't have time to do it and i'm an artist
Wendy York: and a writer
Wendy York: no interest
Wendy York: remember?
blubeard11: no interest in making the big cash?
Wendy York: how do you know i'm NOT making the big cash?
Wendy York: you know what happens when we assume?
blubeard11: yes
Wendy York: consider that a lesson learned.
Wendy York: except you didn't make an ass out of me.

Manners and Mr. Trunks

Note: This took place before my name change in case of any confusion.

montanamountainman39: hi
Wendy Liddell: hi
montanamountainman39: what u up too
Wendy Liddell: flipping through a magazine
montanamountainman39: cool
montanamountainman39: am just relaxing in the hottub on my deck
Wendy Liddell: my magazine would get wet in there
montanamountainman39: yes
Wendy Liddell: i just got it so i shouldn’t get in
montanamountainman39: sure get in
montanamountainman39: my neibor lady is watching me from her back window
Wendy Liddell: but i have this magazine
Wendy Liddell: do you want me to wave to her?
montanamountainman39: sure
Wendy Liddell: *waves*
montanamountainman39: she reading the paper
montanamountainman39: i have my swimming trunks on
Wendy Liddell: man what a bitch. she didn’t wave back
Wendy Liddell: *shakes fist*
montanamountainman39: should i tease her
Wendy Liddell: no
Wendy Liddell: i have a better idea
montanamountainman39: what
Wendy Liddell: do you have a lighter?
montanamountainman39: nope
Wendy Liddell: crap
montanamountainman39: why is that
Wendy Liddell: oh i found one in my purse!
Wendy Liddell: yes!
Wendy Liddell: follow me over by the fence
montanamountainman39: okay
Wendy Liddell: act really casual
Wendy Liddell: like we’re going to say hi
montanamountainman39: okay
Wendy Liddell: but run as soon as i do
Wendy Liddell: what’s her name?
montanamountainman39: idont no
montanamountainman39: never met her
Wendy Liddell: okay i’ll just say ma’am
Wendy Liddell: let’s go! *strolls over to the fence*
Wendy Liddell: "hello, ma’am, how’s your morning going?"
Wendy Liddell: she’s totally NOT answering me!
Wendy Liddell: whore!
montanamountainman39: yes
Wendy Liddell: "let me warm up that coffee for you!"
Wendy Liddell: *lights magazine on fire and throws it onto womans newspaper*
Wendy Liddell: RUN!
montanamountainman39: your mean
Wendy Liddell: dude no i’m not
Wendy Liddell: she’s impolite!
montanamountainman39: am going to stnd up and take mr trunks off
montanamountainman39: tease her
Wendy Liddell: that’s mean AND impolite
Wendy Liddell: *lights pubic hair on fire*
montanamountainman39: what
Wendy Liddell: stop drop and roll!
Wendy Liddell: do it!
Wendy Liddell: you’re going to get really burned!
Wendy Liddell: mr. trunks is going to catch fire!
montanamountainman39: my trunks are off now
Wendy Liddell: thank goodness, mr. trunks!
montanamountainman39: now what u want me to do
Wendy Liddell: well you need some sort of moisture on there. you let that fire go pretty long
Wendy Liddell: *applies some Bath and Body Works Vanilla Bean lotion to burned area*
Wendy Liddell: there!
Wendy Liddell: sorry i know that stings
Wendy Liddell: but i don’t have anything unscented
Wendy Liddell: but now you smell like a burned cookie!
montanamountainman39: will u apply for me
Wendy Liddell: again?
montanamountainman39: what
Wendy Liddell: I already put a massive amount on your burn
montanamountainman39: rub it around little bit for me
Wendy Liddell: it’s going to hurt...
montanamountainman39: thats okay
Wendy Liddell: oh shit
Wendy Liddell: some skin just came off
Wendy Liddell: um
Wendy Liddell: this is really awkward
Wendy Liddell: but...where do you want this?
Wendy Liddell: *holds bit of skin out*
montanamountainman39: rub it all over
Wendy Liddell: the burned skin?!!!
Wendy Liddell: that came off?!!
Wendy Liddell: okay...i guess..
montanamountainman39: where ever u wnat too
Wendy Liddell: so you like being rubbed with your own burned skin?
Wendy Liddell: *rubs you with your own burned skin*
montanamountainman39: with lotion
Wendy Liddell: okay i’ll put lotion on it
Wendy Liddell: *puts lotion on piece of burned skin and rubs you with it*
montanamountainman39: feels good
Wendy Liddell: *looks away and tries to think of kittens*
montanamountainman39: feels good
Wendy Liddell: *hums*
montanamountainman39: rub the head too okay
Wendy Liddell: *rubs my head*
Wendy Liddell: isn’t my hair pretty?
montanamountainman39: yes
montanamountainman39: feels good
Wendy Liddell: i just washed it
Wendy Liddell: you should smell it
montanamountainman39: okay
montanamountainman39: smells good
Wendy Liddell: what does it smell like?
montanamountainman39: strawberry
Wendy Liddell: that’s so weird! i wash it with strawberry and yogurt puree!
montanamountainman39: does my burn look better
Wendy Liddell: *throws piece of burned skin in hot tub*
Wendy Liddell: uh...
montanamountainman39: take a closer look
Wendy Liddell: you should keep an eye on it
montanamountainman39: it need more lotion
Wendy Liddell: you don’t want to irritate it
Wendy Liddell: especially since it’s not the right kind of ointment
Wendy Liddell: it’s all i had in my purse
montanamountainman39: what kind is it
Wendy Liddell: *shows you bottle of Bath and Body Works Vanilla Bean Lotion*
Wendy Liddell: remember when I said you smelled like a burned cookie?
montanamountainman39: yes
Wendy Liddell: this is why!
montanamountainman39: rub the head of my cock little bit
Wendy Liddell: you should pay attention
Wendy Liddell: *grabs a branch and whips you on your burn*
Wendy Liddell: i’m taking mr. trunks and going home
montanamountainman39: okay
Wendy Liddell: unless you can use your manners
montanamountainman39: u dont want to take a tub with me
Wendy Liddell: i don’t have room for a tub in my car
montanamountainman39: take off your clothes and jump in her with me
Wendy Liddell: no thanks. i found another magazine to read
Wendy Liddell: mr. trunks and i are going to go.
Wendy Liddell: you want to come get some ice cream with us?
montanamountainman39: bring it back to me
Wendy Liddell: no way. you didn’t even say please
Wendy Liddell: we’re going
Wendy Liddell: you can come or stay here
Wendy Liddell: your choice
Wendy Liddell: we’re getting sprinkles...
montanamountainman39: am going to go watch a movie
Wendy Liddell: ok fine.
Wendy Liddell: we’ll be at the ice cream parlour if you need us
montanamountainman39: all thins talk got me worked up
Wendy Liddell: yeah you need to settle down
Wendy Liddell: watching that movie might help
montanamountainman39: i need to go relieve some tention
Wendy Liddell: ok take a nap and we’ll go get some ice cream
Wendy Liddell: see you later burned alligator
montanamountainman39: would u like to join me
Wendy Liddell: no thanks i’m getting ice cream with mr. trunks
montanamountainman39: okay
Wendy Liddell: i have a previous engagement
Wendy Liddell: it wouldn’t be polite to break it
montanamountainman39: with who
Wendy Liddell: mr. trunks
montanamountainman39: your funny
Wendy Liddell: what?
Wendy Liddell: manners are not funny
montanamountainman39: okay have fun
Wendy Liddell: i take them very seriously
Wendy Liddell: enjoy your nap
montanamountainman39: i need to go rub one out
montanamountainman39: have u cum yet the morning
Wendy Liddell: yes i’m here aren’t i?
Wendy Liddell: *puts hand over mouth*
Wendy Liddell: do you have short term memory loss?
Wendy Liddell: i’m so sorry
Wendy Liddell: you have a MASSAGE scheduled
Wendy Liddell: AND a NAP
montanamountainman39: yes
montanamountainman39: u wnat to massage me
Wendy Liddell: no, dear, i’m not the massage therapist
Wendy Liddell: i’m the one who made you smell like a burned cookie
Wendy Liddell: someone else is going to rub you out
Wendy Liddell: ok?
Wendy Liddell: mr. trunks and i are going for ice cream
Wendy Liddell: you were going to watch a movie
Wendy Liddell: get a massage
Wendy Liddell: and take a nap
montanamountainman39: yes
Wendy Liddell: excellent
Wendy Liddell: sounds like a good day
Wendy Liddell: mr. trunks and i will talk to you later on the telephone
Wendy Liddell: it will ring
Wendy Liddell: you pick it up
Wendy Liddell: okay?
montanamountainman39: okay
Wendy Liddell: okay
Wendy Liddell: good
Wendy Liddell: talk to you then
montanamountainman39: okay
Wendy Liddell: *waves as door closes*


Note: I never gave this dork my phone number.

Oh, Alicia.

This is the relevant part of the episode...






peoplefolk: mmm. heh heh. wish you were in massachussetts.
Wendy York: oh i would just spend all my time at dunkin donuts
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: that iced coffee is wicked addictive
peoplefolk: how come in the MA chatroom?
peoplefolk: visiting here often?
Wendy York: oh i have a friend who lives there
Wendy York: so i suppose it's nostalgia
peoplefolk: ahhh i see
peoplefolk: 25 year old male here
peoplefolk: mnd a younger male?
peoplefolk: =)
Wendy York: i'll talk to almost anyone as long as they're not a jerk
peoplefolk: awsome
peoplefolk: im no jerk
peoplefolk: i can be a horny bastard of course
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: but no jerk
Wendy York: oh! well i'm a librarian!
peoplefolk: mmm
peoplefolk: fucking hot
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: hey now. i AM a lady
peoplefolk: awww
peoplefolk: dont like vulgarness?
peoplefolk: hehe
Wendy York: i don't think that's a word, mr.
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: prolly not
peoplefolk: but i type whatever
peoplefolk: hehe
Wendy York: indeed
peoplefolk: im sure u understand it =)
Wendy York: about 90%
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: good enough
peoplefolk: r u singlee?
Wendy York: singlee?
Wendy York: is that the slang kids are using these days?
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: nooo
Wendy York: god i feel old
peoplefolk: i just put extra letters silly
peoplefolk: ive been usuing yahoo for ages
Wendy York: well duh
peoplefolk: same ol chat gets boring
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: so i have fun with it noww
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: unique
Wendy York: i'm just 30, not stupid lol
Wendy York: ohh unique
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: 30 and sexy
peoplefolk: yum
Wendy York: do you like grilled cheeses?
peoplefolk: of course
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: what about with bacon?
peoplefolk: sure
Wendy York: potato chips on it?
peoplefolk: never tried that
Wendy York: it's super good
peoplefolk: yum
peoplefolk: hehe
Wendy York: you have to get the thick cut bacon though
Wendy York: not that wimpy bacon
Wendy York: you never want wimpy meat
peoplefolk: lol i see
peoplefolk: do u like big meat?
peoplefolk:
peoplefolk: j/k
Wendy York: sometimes but i usually have to split it with someone
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: like my friend and i...we usually split our meat because we just like to do that
Wendy York: neither of us really wants the whole thing
peoplefolk: hahha
Wendy York: so we split it
peoplefolk: hwo big is this meat?
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: well it depends.
peoplefolk: on?///
Wendy York: every meat is different
Wendy York: so of course it's going to vary
peoplefolk: truee hehe
peoplefolk: why not have it all for yourself?
Wendy York: well we enjoy sharing for one, and also there's just always so much meat
Wendy York: when we share, it fills us both up
peoplefolk: perhaps u can have my meat?
Wendy York: it's a win win
Wendy York: oh well we don't like to steal people's meat
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: u can borrow
Wendy York: well we can't give it back
Wendy York: once it's gone it's gone
Wendy York: it's like how people say, "can i borrow a kleenex?
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: i'm like, "you can have it"
Wendy York: i don't want their snotties back
peoplefolk: r u home now? or in the library?
Wendy York: oh, home. our computers at the library don't allow chat and all that.
peoplefolk: ooo
peoplefolk: home alone sexy ass?
Wendy York: it's my day off
peoplefolk: hehe
Wendy York: oh no. my roommate is here.
peoplefolk: awww
Wendy York: oh she's nice
peoplefolk: can i still come by and get naked even though shes there?
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: um. *scratches head*
peoplefolk: ill just sit next to ya naked while u chat
Wendy York: well alicia is a stripper
peoplefolk: ooo nice name
peoplefolk: sounds like and old time name
peoplefolk: haha
Wendy York: well she's forty-two
Wendy York: but i don't think of that as old time
peoplefolk: ooo older than u huh
Wendy York: yes
peoplefolk: she as hot as u? hehe
Wendy York: i suppose. her boyfriend thinks so i'm sure
peoplefolk: damn
Wendy York: what?
peoplefolk: boyfriends
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: oh were you going to fly in from massacussetts and woo felicia?
Wendy York: lol
peoplefolk: hahhaa
peoplefolk: you and alicia
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: oh well i have someone hot on my tail as well
peoplefolk: alicia a busty gal?
Wendy York: not particularly, no
Wendy York: she's very tall and lithe
peoplefolk: i see, your the busty one hehe
peoplefolk:
Wendy York: busty?
peoplefolk: your the one id like
Wendy York: have you been reading pulp novels?
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: yes
Wendy York: do you know what pulp novels are?
peoplefolk: no
peoplefolk: haha
Wendy York: well you sound like a character from one
Wendy York: especially with the drool
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: which one?
Wendy York: what?
peoplefolk: nevermind
Wendy York: which pulp novel? they made like zillions
peoplefolk: may i ask what ur wearing right now?
Wendy York: no
peoplefolk: yes
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: no
peoplefolk: yes =)
Wendy York: no
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: i'm wearing toe nail polish
peoplefolk: mmm
peoplefolk: no panties huh?
peoplefolk: hehe
Wendy York: i never said that
Wendy York: you shouldn't assume
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: *whacks with newspaper*
Wendy York: manners!
peoplefolk: mmm
peoplefolk: wack my ass if u want
Wendy York: no
peoplefolk: yes
Wendy York: no
peoplefolk: ill just smack yours then
Wendy York: no
peoplefolk: when ur back is turned
peoplefolk: cant stop me
Wendy York: you should mind your manners and be a little more smooth
Wendy York: 'you need to learn finesse with the ladies
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: not just run up to them with my pants around my ankles?
Wendy York: that would be a negatory
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: works around here
Wendy York: oh! the "mass" of sluts?
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: plus you're lying!
Wendy York: you shouldn't lie to women
peoplefolk: haha i am lying
peoplefolk: i dont do that
peoplefolk: would love to
peoplefolk: but dont
Wendy York: *raises eyebrows*
Wendy York: do you know what a donkey punch is?
peoplefolk: ive heard diff things
peoplefolk: whats urs?
Wendy York: well, i don't give it the sexual connotation. i just punch you in the back of the neck
peoplefolk: lol
peoplefolk: nooo
Wendy York: yup
peoplefolk: thats not how it goes
Wendy York: well that's what i'm going to do
peoplefolk: meany
peoplefolk: that would hurt
Wendy York: liar
Wendy York: bad manners
peoplefolk: i dont want to inflict pain on people
peoplefolk: bad manners dont cause pain silly
Wendy York: yes they can
peoplefolk: not like a donkey punch in my damn neck
peoplefolk: lol
Wendy York: do you know how to whistle?
Wendy York: well. do you?
Wendy York: i enjoy a good tune that's whistled
Wendy York: oh alicia.
Wendy York: what a pussy
Wendy York: and he had bad manners
Wendy York: and he totally believed every word i said.

A few moments later...
peoplefolk: me?

Gioja and The Beautiful Music

I love talking to my friend Gioja.

Not only is she funny and interesting but we somehow seem to be on the same plane on a lot of things. I don't feel like such a square peg around her because she feels like a kindred spirit in so many ways.

We were talking about relationships recently. Gioja is recently married to a very wonderful man and I have just started seeing a very wonderful man. If you've read even a small amount of my writing, you, of course, know that this is something that I consider a gift.

As Gioja and I were talking, I was saying how time seems to be going by at a leisurely pace with my new beau. Nothing seems hurried and I don't question or overanalyze anything with him. It is what it is and I constantly find myself thinking, "Wow, that's so awesome he said that because that's exactly how I feel." Or vice versa. We were discussing something recently and he said, "Yeah, I was thinking about that, too." This makes me very happy that we are so aligned and on the same page, that I don't have to keep checking in and logging notes and pulling teeth and blah blah blah. It just works. The pieces fit. And so we are. However, on paper, one might scratch their head and say, "Well, gee, they're moving kind of fast." Sucks to them.

When I mentioned to Gioja how it seemed to be such a leisurely pace and yet in real time it really hadn't been that long, she said, "Yeah, I went over to Jared's house for the first time and from there I just kind of moved in." I can see her point. I grew up thinking there was this formula that everyone had to follow: boy asks girl on date, boy and girl date for at least 5 to 6 dates then go on weekend vacation, boy and girl are official couple, boy and girl start attending functions together as couple, boy and girl date more, (at this point a year has passed), boy and girl go on kind of large vacation together/move in together, boy and girl get animal such as dog or cat together, boy asks girl to marry him, girl flashes ring for year and annoys the hell out of friends but friends grin and bear it, relationship goes all to hell because girl thought ring was prize and didn't know marriage was the beginning not the end. This formula may work or seem to work a large part of the population. However, I think Gioja is onto something. She also prefaced her comment with, "Jared and I just skipped the whole dating thing." Not that they don't make time for date nights. They totally do and I think that's fantastic. They still "date" each other even though they are married. They court each other and basically think one another is the best thing since sliced bread. Possibly before that.

I think there is a part of the population that just doesn't fit into that stupid formula and we function just fine without it. Its deep-rooted presence in society, however, makes your life hell for years because why don't you fit into the formula? and where is your 90210 romance? and why don't the boys say yes when you ask them out, don't they like that? and why can't I find the right haircut or say the right thing? are all questions and ideals you grow up with and when it just doesn't work, you want to pull your hair out. When you finally meet the person you just fall in so easily with that you don't overanalyze things, spending time with them is not like a freakshow job interview and they don't belong in the annals of bad date blogdom. Instead, it's like Gioja put it. I just feel like I blinked and then there he was and now a bit of time has passed and I've adored every second of it.

Gioja and her husband make up 2/3 of the band The Green Typewriters (check out their Myspace page and definitely go to a show.) The other night I was at their house and they were just kind of jamming out and encouraged me to play with them even though I don't know how to play a musical instrument, yet. Their theory is that if you pick it up and play it, you might find a cool noise. I chose the xylophone. Whatever I sounded like, it didn't matter. I rocked that xylophone and I wasn't afraid of how I sounded. That's how I'm going into this relationship. I'm not taking any of my past rejections and projecting them onto this one. I'm going to rock it like I did that xylophone and see all the cool things that come out of it.

I'm making beautiful music and it's just going to keep on going.

You Can Always Believe a T-Shirt

Gee. I didn't think he would put it on a t-shirt. I'm really flattered! Rather than copy him and be stupid and get a "Jimmy Fallon was here" with an arrow pointing down t-shirt, I think I'll just put this on a t-shirt. That's right. Bragging rights.

Thanks, Jimmy Fallon. I heart you, too!

But seriously, folks...

I'm always fascinated when I see things like this. I am entranced by this picture. I know he bought it. Or some wardrobe person gave it to him to wear. Is it like buying a license plate for your bike? Were there Jessicas, Shirleys, Allisons, Annes, Kellys, Peggys, Janets, Susans, Melissas, etc. to pick from and someone, maybe even Jimmy himself said, no, no, nuh-uh, nope, meh, eh, no, not even!, nooo, etc. until he saw the only Wendy left on the rack? (There's rarely A Wendy on the rack, let alone any Wendy on the rack, just to let you know. I can't remember having a keychain with a tiny license plate with my name on it or a license plate for my bike as a kid or any sort of memorabilia except a Mickey Mouse ears hat but they sew your name on right there and well, my high school nickname was Weiner so I had them sew that on there. Trust me, you'll never find a Weiner. Well, maybe in Jimmy Fallon's pants. But that's another story.)

I don't know. Maybe guys are different or I'm different but I wouldn't wear a shirt like that because then I'd be constantly thinking, "People think someone named Wendy was here." I get that it's a joke but you know, who the hell and why the hell...Wendy? I'm especially fascinated because it's my name and I love things with my name on it, especially if it implies I was somehow sexually involved with Jimmy Fallon. There's not too many of us Wendys out there. Not as many as say the names I read off above. Or like other names. The Kaylees are taking over pretty soon. They're growing up pretty fast. But their name is too long to look good on a shirt like that. Take that, Kaylees! You will never be implicated in a sexual daliance with Jimmy Fallon. Also, he would get arrested because you're pretty young.

(Okay, I'll settle down now and stop being intense. Am I being intense? Michael told me I get intense, which I agree with on some points but now I'm trying to tone it down a little which is making me more intense sometimes. It's kind of like when someone who is freaked out by your driving is in the car and you drive worse because they make you nervous, thus proving their point to them but otherwise you're a good driver because you can relax.)

All I have to say is: I'm awesome! Let's hear it for the Wendys! Especially this one!! (I don't know other ones!)

Boolicious

I had another bizarre phone call yesterday.

This one was not a pocket call, though. Here's how it went down.

My Mom and I were in the car (I can't wait until June when I can start typing "I was driving down the street" again) and I remembered I needed to call Jeff Crabtree of Crabtree Brewing here in Greeley (you should go try the Serenity--it's the bestest!) I had forgotten to write down their phone number off of their web site though and information refuses to acknowledge their existence even though my friends and I are clearly aware of it. But I digress (I later found out it was in information under Mr. Crabtree's name after a lightbulb went off in my head.)

I thought I remembered it but couldn't remember if it was a 353 or a 356 prefix. I figured I'd try both. I tried the 356 prefix first and got a voicemail with one of those messages telling you that you have reached the number you dialed (thanks, Mr. Phone!) and I was like, nope, not that one and disconnected. I tried the 353 prefix and a Chinese man answered. A very cranky Chinese man. He was demanding to know who I was and rapid firing questions at me so fast that I became very intimidated and just blurted out, "I dialed the wrong number! I'm sorry!" and disconnected again.

Then my phone rang. It came up as Unknown.

I knew who this was. It was the 356 prefix doing the "Who is this?" call back. We've all done it to sate our curiosity but usually when the person doesn't answer we move on with our life. We don't leave a message. We don't...well, you'll see.

Unknown left a message. A long one:
"Hi..Someone from this number called my phone and I don't know you but you called me and this is Amy but you might have been trying to reach my husband David...soooo...um, yeah." She sounded confused but fairly cheerful. Although not the type of person I would trust. Amy sounds like she hides under her cheer. As was indicative in yes, our further interaction.

Amy sounded particularly weirded out by my hang up call so I thought I would call back and let her know I had mis-dialed. I figured it would be the nice thing to do. There was a conversation. A confusing one:
"Hi! Is this Amy?"

"Yes."

"Oh, this is Wendy. I called your phone earlier. I actually was trying to call another number and I just wanted to let you know. Sorry."

Sidebar: She is going to use a nickname for her husband which I never understood so we will just call him Boolicious.

"You weren't trying to get hold of Boolicious?"

"What?"

"Boolicious."

"I don't know what that is."

"Some people know my husband by that. It's his nickname. Boolicious."

"I don't know that person. I just wanted to let you know I had misdialed your number. Um. Have a good day."

"Ok."

"Bye."

...and Click.

My phone at this point was nearly dead so I turned it off as we finished our errands and grabbed a bite, etc. A couple of hours later, when I returned home, I plugged it in and turned it back on, I had two voicemails. One was from my neurologist's office confirming my appointment. Noted. Thank you, Caleb from Advanced Neurology.

The second went a little like this:

"Hey, this is Dave. Just returning your phone call."

It was Boolicious.

Christ on a bike.

What Women's Lib And Culinary Mastery Are Really All About

Now, I know what you're going to say. Where can I get that adult reproduction of Rainbow Brite's outfit? I know. It's pretty awesome. However, you're missing the point here. Did you read the top part of the ad where it took Marjorie Taylor 25 years to get up the courage to smoke in front of her husband and it took him 25 seconds to pack her bags? Holy smokes! Before I go any further, I have to say something about that man's packing abilities. Where is he when I travel? I could just casually light up a cigarette and all my shit would be packed. Nice! But I digress.

According to this ad, the Women's Liberation movement was not about getting the right to vote, working for equal pay, putting sexual harrassment policies into place, etc. It was about the right to smoke when and where you damn well please, even if it was in front of your husband. Although, technically, your husband can still pack your bags in 25 seconds if that is the dealbreaker in a 25 year marriage. Talk about ironic! 25 years to work up the courage and that's the exact amount of time it takes for him to pack your bags! That's kicking you when you're down! I wonder what he would have down if you'd downed some Old Crow and packed up some chaw? Oh, save that for the next one. Maybe he'll be slower and you can put your Virginia Slim out on his face.




The start-up cash was financed by one of their son's appearances on America's Funniest Home Videos, which won $3000. I was probably watching. Prepare yourself. It's pretty...*cough*



These guys claim "everything" should taste like bacon. Bacon Salt is Kosher and vegans can eat it, too. So if they just can't get that hankerin' for bacon out of their mind, here's the easy solution! Sprinkle this on their tofu and they gots bacon! You can put it on steak, corn, toast, eggs, pizza, soup, waffles, burgers, shrimp, chicken, pumpkin pie, corn dogs, spaghetti, meatloaf, falafels, tamales, burritos, sub sandwiches, quiche, cookies, fondue, baked potatoes, fish, pudding; heck, put it on bacon!

Imagine something right now. ___________ You can put it on that!! I don't care if you imagined someone's hat! You could even use it in the bedroom! Sprinkle it on your lover's back and lick it up. He or she tastes like bacon!! Who hasn't been in the middle of foreplay and had their mind wander off to a nice strip of bacon? Now that doesn't have to happen. A few shakes of Bacon Salt and you get the best of both worlds.

And then afterwards, you can light up a Virginia Slim. Because you've come a long way, baby.

Prepare For Execution

hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:47:10 PM): hi how are you?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:48:00 PM): pretty good. i'm chewing gum.
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:48:>PM): nice
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:48:40 PM): i'm enjoying it. it hasn't lost its flavor yet.
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:48:50 PM): lol
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:48:51 PM): i've been chewing it for like two hours
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:49:00 PM): what flavor
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:49:07 PM): wintergreen
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:49:28 PM): my fav
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:49:37 PM): i'm a fan.
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:51:04 PM): so how was your day
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:52:36 PM): good.
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:53:00 PM): i had some french toast this morning and some eggs and bacon and orange juice
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:53:22 PM): then i wrote in my notebook
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:53:27 PM): i put the date
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:53:47 PM): and where i was
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:53:59 PM): and the name of the person i was eating with
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:54:06 PM): and what she was eating
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:54:21 PM): and then i drew a picture of her breakfast
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:54:45 PM): cool
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:54:51 PM): you?
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:54:52 PM): you are strange
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:54:56 PM): not really
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:55:01 PM): lol
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:55:07 PM): normal people do stuff like that all the time
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:55:19 PM): oh yeah
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:55:20 PM): i'm more normal than most people
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:55:38 PM): so i drew a picture of my friend's breakfast
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:55:43 PM): what of it?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:56:12 PM): what did you do today?
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:56:33 PM): just worked
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:56:37 PM): what do you do?
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:57:09 PM): audits
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:57:18 PM): what about you?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:57:34 PM): i'm a visual artist and writer
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:57:47 PM): still seem strange that i would do that?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:57:58 PM): you do audits?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:58:10 PM): you make people cringe and freak out?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:58:14 PM): that's strange
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:58:32 PM): yes I do
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:58:43 PM): no it isn't
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:59:21 PM): it's not strange to strike fear and stress into people's lives but it's strange to make my friend laugh with a picture of her breakfast?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:59:35 PM): happiness vs. evil
Wendy York (5/7/2008 6:59:40 PM): happiness wins
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:59:42 PM): lol
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 6:59:52 PM): I am not evil
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:00:03 PM): i didn't say you as a person were
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:00:35 PM): i'm sure that you have a hobby of tulip farming and you give your neighbors brownies
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:00:53 PM): but your job makes people unhappy and scared
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:01:06 PM): so i'm just saying
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:01:13 PM): i'm not so strange
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:02:07 PM): I don't audit people just companies
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:02:20 PM): oh. well then.
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:02:36 PM): don't people own companies?
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:03:11 PM): yeah but they r crooks lol
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:03:17 PM): not all of them
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:03:24 PM): but this is going nowhere
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:03:32 PM): let's talk about something else
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:03:44 PM): ok
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:04:16 PM): what's your favorite thing to get at the grocery store?
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:04:44 PM): chicken
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:04:48 PM): personally, i like the Pom Tea because it comes in its own drinking glass
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:05:01 PM): how do you cook your chicken?
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:05:16 PM): bake it
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:05:21 PM): or grill
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:05:37 PM): do you filet it?
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:05:45 PM): nope
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:06:01 PM): really thick chicken breasts freak me out
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:06:21 PM): i'm always afraid they aren't done
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:06:51 PM): so i just keep stabbing at it and cooking it until it's really dry
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:07:05 PM): it's best if i filet it
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:07:16 PM): I have Wonder Knives
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:07:26 PM): the ones that cut through cans
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:07:29 PM): dry isn't good
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:07:34 PM): no it isn't
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:07:44 PM): it sucks
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:07:53 PM): literally
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:08:01 PM): there is no saliva left in my mouth
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:08:28 PM): nasty
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:08:39 PM): the truth is nasty sometimes
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:08:54 PM): tea is not nasty
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:08:59 PM): but the truth is
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:09:31 PM): I like green tea
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:09:35 PM): see?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:09:56 PM): green tea is good for a lot of things but especially your skin
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:10:06 PM): it has antioxidants in it
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:10:29 PM): nice
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:10:35 PM): yes
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:10:47 PM): i like it with some citrus
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:11:17 PM): I shoot it
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:11:28 PM): that sounds like a good idea
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:11:42 PM): i have an italian beretta pistol
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:12:12 PM): coo
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:12:20 PM): don't shoot me
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:12:29 PM): don't give me a reason
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:12:47 PM): ouch
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:12:56 PM): zing
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:13:48 PM): oh! the bee gees are playing!
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:14:09 PM): who
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:14:16 PM): the bee gees.
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:14:22 PM): seriously?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:14:34 PM): stayin' alive?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:14:51 PM): c'mon
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:15:22 PM): i told you not to give me a reason to shoot you
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:15:46 PM): sorry
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:15:58 PM): you have never even heard of that song?
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:16:20 PM): nope
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:16:25 PM): fromt the movie "Saturday Night Fever?" with John Travolta
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:16:27 PM): is it porn
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:16:38 PM): Oh. My. God.
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:16:46 PM): Is this a Dateline sting?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:16:55 PM): how old ARE you?
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:17:01 PM): 27
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:17:11 PM): have a seat
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:17:54 PM): no. this is on par with when my ex roommate had not heard of burt reynolds
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:18:10 PM): BURT REYNOLDS
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:18:12 PM): oh ok
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:18:28 PM): the bee gees
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:18:33 PM): stayin' alive
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:18:56 PM): "you can tell by the way i walk i'm a woman's man no time to talk"
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:19:17 PM): hmmmm
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:19:18 PM): the famous disco dance move
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:19:37 PM): where you point up in the air and then down at the floor?
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:19:48 PM): THAT'S from Saturday Night Fever
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:19:51 PM): lol
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:20:04 PM): ..never seen ir
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:20:24 PM): Well you don't have to have seen it to have heard the song and have heard the references
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:20:36 PM): it's a pop culture staple
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:20:51 PM): sorry not ring a bell
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:21:03 PM): wait wait wait
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:21:40 PM): Were you raised by black bears in the Black Forest in a cave and only let out at midnight?
hotballa11 (5/7/2008 7:22:48 PM): not at all
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:24:32 PM): I'm sorry I'm going to have to shoot you.
Wendy York (5/7/2008 7:24:42 PM): Prepare for execution

Activate The Powers of Three!

I'm on hold with the State of Colorado Drivers' Services. Again.

Last time I just had to verify some paperwork questions about which sections of the now nicely creased and properly dog-eared form my doctor needs to sign so I can drive again. This will most likely happen on May 20th.

The reason I am calling this time is to see if I can retroactively get an extension on the deadline for turning in this form as the deadline they originally gave me was four days after my implant surgery. I could be wrong but I don't think my neurologist was going to sign any paper four days after a surgery. My stitches had not been taken out of my throat or from under my arm. The implant had in fact, not even been activated.

Hold, please. I need to go get my clothes from the dryer.
Oh. Wait. They are answering the phone!

Sidebar: The last time I was on hold with them, I decided to take a bath. Just as I was dipping my toes into the bathtub, they picked up the phone.

Psychic Super Villains!

I can't remember the woman's name. We'll call her...Lulu. Lulu was very helpful. Much more helpful than the other people I have wasted away waiting to speak to before (seriously, this is a great diet to go on and a great motivator--"Okay, if I go to change the oil in my car, they will answer the phone." Voila! They do! Do it again! "Okay, if I clean out the drawers in my hutch and start to pack my apartment, they will answer the phone." Voila! They do!)

Basically, I found out that I won't have to wait until July to drive. Granted had I had this information, oh, say like in October then I would have just had to wait until my neurologist signed the papers and then done a couple other things and Voila! Easy as pie. Well a more involved pie. Like one with meringue.

What it all comes down to is I'm getting better and better. My therapist gave me some homework. She asked me to find a physical manifestation of recognizing how far I've come through the last 6 months of having Conversions seizures and on top of that taking back my life, taking mind over matter, working with several people and problem solving so I could be me again.

I didn't quite know how to do this.

Yesterday, I bought myself a sterling silver ring with three garnets in it, set in three thin bands within the ring.

When I have seizures (the Conversion Disorder can be dealt with and overcome but I will always be Epileptic even if I just have a seizure once a year, albeit much less serious than the CD seizures), and most Epileptics do this, I focus on something. My focus is that I just naturally look for things in multiples of three. I happen to like words. For instance, Toyota has six letters. Oil has three letters. London has six letters. Camera has six letters. And so on and so forth. If I can't find words, I look for patterns or anything around me I can count into multiples of three. One time, I was in an ambulance, wishing I had six fingers because I was trying to count something, anything when the paramedic asked me if I had OCD. I had to blurt out "No! I'm just counting to focus!" which was very hard as it is difficult for me to communicate if it is at the point the ambulance has arrived.

So, the ring has become my touchstone. What does it have to do with all of this except that it coincidentally (I don't believe in coincidences) has multiples of three on it and I didn't realize it until this morning? All my life I have loved super heroes. I've never really read comics, even though after I read the graphic novel "Epileptic" I started appreciating them and want to read more, but ever since I was a kid I was fascinated by them. I suppose it's a bit ironic considering I was always the kid with the illness that disallowed certain things. I was less than super. I was not strong. I was not fast. I was not leaping tall buildings in a single bound. I couldn't even hula hoop, which I really longed to do. Sometimes, though, super heroes have rings. They activate their powers with rings and they fly.

So each time I touch my ring it will activate the memory of how far I have come and how far I have flown and most importantly, how many buildings I have leapt over in a single bound. It also will allow me to see into the future and remind me of how much further I have to fly and how good the wind will feel in my hair.

Now I just need a hula hoop.

Leaning Over and Screaming, "Hello??!!"

Imagine this guy driving a truck instead of a recliner.

My phone rang this morning with a 590 prefix, which I thought was my friend Ryan's phone but didn't stop to wonder why it didn't say "Ryan." It stopped ringing after half a ring so I figured he dropped his phone in his morning peanut butter sandwich or something and would call back. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the phone rang again. I picked it up. I said, "Hello?" expecting to hear Ryan's droll imitation of Uncle Leo's "Hulllloh" from Seinfeld on the other end.

No. I heard arguing. On talk radio. The reason it took me so long to respond the first time was because I couldn't figure out if I was on hold and this was someone's hold "music" or if say, my Dad, who listens to talk radio, was calling me from yet another cell phone because the Firemen's Ball people had started asking him for money again and had changed his number...again and I didn't recognize his number. I just didn't know. Plus, I'd had dreams last night about people talking to me so I was still scratching my head over that and by the time I realized it was some dork pocket calling me twice, mind you, while he was driving and I was just desperate to have them answer for some reason and started yelling, "Hello" even though I know this never works. It never does. Following is the transcript of two humans in a moment of heightened dorkdom (yes, one of them is me) and one who just plain should be flogged.

"...these two ladies came and knocked on the door and said we couldn't have the kids in the van and that they were going to call the police and we explained to the police the risks *laughter* benefits of having the kids stay in the van and watch a movie instead of going in the church and having nothing to do and we didn't feel they were in any inherent danger and so they wrote us up and said we were in family crisis and of course we went to court and everybody that met us along the way were very impressed with us-"

"Hello?" Blink. Blink.

"and what good parents we were and how alert our children were and fun-loving and so forth-"

"Hell-o??"

"and our name is still on the list of child neglect. And we also mentor and we are now unable to mentor because of our names being on this list which I find very ironic. [Enter Mike Rosen] I'm going to put you on hold for a sec because of the static. It seems to me, that, that the original intent of these types of laws-"

"HELLO?"

"were to deal with parents who, on a hot summer day, would leave their child in a car, say an 18 month old, where it might be very, very hot and they might go in shopping for twenty minutes and-"

"HELLLOOO!!!!"

"that would be neglectful but the situation you describe doesn't strike me as a person being"

Click.

Beep Boop Boop Beep Boop *dialing* You get the idea.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Who is This?"

"Bill."

"Hi Bill! This is Wendy. You called me twice on your phone."

"Uh, no. No, I don't believe I did that. No."

"Yes, it's actually kind of funny. I think what happened is you pocket dialed me. You were listening to talk radio?"

"Uh, yes. I, uh, I don't know how I dialed your phone."

"Well it happens. Again, it's just funny and I thought maybe if your phone had a lock function you might want to utilize it or something. But I thought you might want to know what your phone was doing."

"Okay, uh. *cough*"

"Have a nice day, Bill!"

"You too!"

Click.

Just for the record the man on the radio is a fucking idiot and so is Mike Rosen for validating him. I don't care if the core temperature in a car or, say, van, is set to a cool , breezy 72 degrees, you should never leave your children in your car. Clearly, these people drive the Popemobile which leaves their children invincible to people who lure and kidnap children away from their parents while they are inside a church doing things that their family is clearly involved in and apparently they think is not important to involve the kids in. Not that I'm saying everyone should run inside a church. However, if you are, like this doofus and his wife, involved in a church, either take them the hell inside the church or leave them at home with a sitter. Instead, you plop the kids in front of a DVD player in the car as the babysitter just like all good mentors do and then cry when you get put on a list as being negligent and can't put other people's children in front of a television and call it mentoring. Does anyone remember Teddy Ruxpin the robotic babysitter? What the fuck was that?

Oh, and Mr. Mentor. Why don't you call up Alanis Morrissette and ask her what the word ironic means because I'm pretty sure the entire universe has told her by now and it's burned into her skull and she'll never forget it after putting out that song that should have been called "Unfortunate Events That Happened." In case you have a Mentoring MySpace, though, here's how you should properly use the word "ironic," although you should know that you are pictured right next to the definition of it with the sentence, "It is ironic that this man considers himself a mentor." Oh what? Sorry Alanis. You're right. That's under "Unfortunate Events." Thanks.

Irony is a literary or rhetorical device, in which there is an incongruity or discordance between what a speaker or a writer says and what he or she means, or is generally understood.

In modern usage it can also refer to particularly striking examples of incongruities observed in everyday life between what was intended or said and what actually happened.

HELLO!

Fudgy Crumbs

I love potlucks.

Yes, because of all the awesome food that people bring to show off and proudly uncover for you to dip into and pile onto your plate, anxiously awaiting that question that every cook loves to hear: "This is delicious! Can I get the recipe?"

Of course you can. Wink Wink. Big grin.

I just happen to have a whole pack of recipe cards and a fresh Bic pen right here.

This is a whole genre of cooking in and of itself. Generally, the trail of recipes can be traced to one source. The back of some box, can, or a label of some sort. Through many years of attending potlucks and also being pulled aside at one point and given some of the most valuable cooking advice I've ever received, "Honey, if you look for the recipes on the backs of boxes and food packaging, you'll never go wrong," I've perfected some pretty awesome recipes. Sure, I've adapted a few to my own tastes or zipped them up a notch here and there but at their very core, they wouldn't exist if I hadn't ripped them off from some food packaging.

In honor of that advice, I give you a recipe for some very delicious brownies. I mix them a little bit in my own ways but I'll let you do your own experimenting. Here, featured on the back of Baker's Unsweetened Baking Chocolate Squares, is the recipe for:

Baker's One Bowl Brownies

4 squares Baker's Unsweetened 3 eggs
Baking Chocolate
1 tsp. vanilla
3/4 cup butter
1 cup flour
2 cups sugar
1 cup coarsely chopped Planter's pecans

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line 13x9 inch baking pan with foil, with endsof foil extending over sides of pan. Grease foil.

Microwave chocolate and butter in large microwaveable bowl on HIGH 2 minutes or until butter is melted. Stir until chocolate is completely melted. Stir in sugar. Blend in eggs and vanilla. Add flour and pecans; Mix well. Spread into prepared pan.

Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out with fudgy crumbs. (Do not overbake.) Cool in pan or wire rack. Remove brownies from pan, using foil handles. Cut into 24 squares. Store in tightly covered container at room temperature. Makes 24 servings. 1 brownie each.

Cake-like brownies: Prepare as directed, stirring in 1/2 cup milk along with the eggs and vanilla, and increasing the flour to 1 1/2 cups.

BONUS! If I tear the packaging apart (which I'm not going to do because where else would I wrangle my unsweetened chocolate? >:( Ingrates) there are also recipes for:

One Bowl Brownie Variations!

One Bowl Chocolate Frosting!

AND

Wellesley Fudge Cake! (GASP!)

Be sure to email me if you want that recipe!

Or, um, buy a package of Baker's Unsweetened Baking Chocolate Squares.

*cough*

Robot Attack Insurance

Insurance is important. Especially when you have a robot part like I do.

The thing I forgot about is that robots eventually turn on their human counterparts. So I posted this video for all my loved ones and well, the people who vaguely associate with me on an occasional level.

Robot attacks are not to be taken lightly, as Sam Waterston here says. I can totally see myself eating all your medication if I can't get a refill on mine because I've turned on my neurologist and clamped him to death with my claws. It's hard to duplicate his handwriting even though I've won against a couple friends in a signature forging contest. They're artists, though, not doctors.

In addition to eating your medication, I will eat up all your cool action figures. That's what the commercial doesn't tell you. There's no way to tell what I will eat either. Actual market value doesn't matter to me. I have my own criteria. I won't be able to keep my clampy hands off your Purple Pie Man or maybe your old Happy Meal toys. I will be voracious and insatiable.

Don't try to reason with me. It won't work. Once I've turned, the only thing you can do is try not to get clamped.

Disposable Mail Carriers and Japanese Monsters

I was thinking today about dispensable people.

It all started because my friend Christopher kindly sent me one of his four camera cords to replace the one I misplaced. It worked out perfectly because we have the same exact camera. However it has been about a week and a half since he sent it and we are both wondering where the hell it is.

I mused about the many goings on in the United States Postal Service and I wondered maybe if my postal carrier had died and the delay was due to a delay during which they are plugging in another carrier into my route and then eventually I will get my package containing the cord with a note on it, apologetically explaining, "Sorry for the delay. Your postal carrier passed on but we're sure you'll enjoy regular promptness with the new one we have assigned to you."

Someone else will drive his truck and his uniform will be cleaned and returned for someone else to wear.

Comcast leaflets will continue to fill my mailbox without missing a beat. The only evidence of his absence: the delay of a package containing a camera cord.

Recent events in my life have made me wonder how easily I could be replaced. After all, I look back and, in many ways I know of several instances where I was replaced and vice versa. It isn't that you don't think of these people occasionally but somehow they disappear from your life whether slowly or suddenly and soon your new daily routine grows over their memory like moss over a rock. Soon no one is aware the rock is even there. Or ever was.

It isn't that we want this to happen but it does. There are small moments we have no idea are contributing to the distance and sometimes there is nothing the other person can do but sit with their hands folded quietly because frankly, it is out of their hands. This snowball has gained speed and they cannot stop it. All they do is hope for the best. Which sometimes is the worst.

Occasionally, we are so caught up in our lives that we do not see the things that are big and destructive, crashing like Japanese monsters through our mutual villages but ever so quietly. Only to one village is the destruction louder than any earthquake and the silence from the other village is deafening. Unfortunately, there is no place to run and hide. It is only amongst the schrapnel and decay that one must stand. One must stand and take it or lay down upon the ground and let things fall where they may. Even the tear drops.

And so it goes. The little things that are the big things.

Be ever watchful.

Get It While I'm Hot!

So Far, So Good

So far, my thirties are pretty awesome.

I started them out wearing a dress I made out of four black t-shirts, altered from a pattern from a great book called "Generation T." Thanks to Bernadette and the lovely ladies at Rumours on Main in Windsor, my hair and makeup looked wonderful. I was a hottie. I was a goddess. I was bee-yoo-tiful. I had a moment when I was having a more magical than usual dinner at Pulcinella with my best friend Michael, having excused myself to wash my hands before dinner (it was, I admit a ruse to stroll past Andrew, the bartender, whom I think is so classy and wonderful and also to be sanitary at the same time--two birds one stone, wink wink, nudge nudge) when I looked into the mirror and there stood a woman who had come a long way. She did not look uncomfortable in her skin or worried about stumbling and knocking something over or what have you. She was confident, she felt great and most of all she was stunning. I put my hand to my cheek and smiled before strolling confidently right past Andrew with all my womanly wiles flaring.

After dinner, Michael and I had our "And now for something completely different" part of the evening. You see, we have decided we like the Diamond Cabaret. The last time we went was the first time. It was quite fun and boobs la la la la. My birthday was different. I don't know if my confidence was ooozing and mutating into some sort of mojo but I had stripper catnip all over me.

It was, in fact, scandalous and fantastic.

Don't get me wrong, I likes my men. At the end of the day I want to come home to a man. However, I come home to cats right now. Also, did I mention I had stepped or been sprinkled with some sort of stripper catnip? It all began with very touchy feely compliments on my necklace and chit chat as they nuzzled me cat-like with their hair and rolled around with a smile in a way they weren't quite doing for the men sitting around the stage. At one point, one reached down my top and fondled my breast and gave my right nipple a good working over. It was a "dear diary" moment and both hilarious and quite the charge. There were other "holy crap" incidents in between the next stripper who actually put both hands down my dress and did the same thing. I looked around and none of the other strippers appeared to be doing this. Monique, the coolest stripper and both of our favorite out of all the strippers, whispered to me, "You are better than all the men in here." Wow. Ego boost. I don't care if she does it as part of her act or what. I was awesome. Toward the end of the evening, leaving the Cabaret, I strutted out, head held high.

Since then I have just been relaxing. I've been watching the orchid Michael gave me and I need to repot it.

Happy Monday. It can only get better from here.

Floyd.

I love going to lunch with my Mom.

In days past, when we were quite a bit less fortunate, we had a tradition of going out to a cherished but inexpensive dinner on her payday. It was our reward for making it through the month one more time and also fuel for our souls for the upcoming month, whatever it held. Usually, we ended up at The Galaxy, a Chinese restaurant with two enourmous lions, spray-painted gold standing guard outside. Everything inside was a deep red: the carpet, the walls even the tassels on the menus. All you usually needed to eat there was a twenty dollar bill but only on payday could my Mom spare that for my plate of Sesame Chicken and her plate of some sort of vegetables and chicken with a heavy dose of hot mustard. For one shining hour, we lived like the people who could go eat whever they choosed and with my fingers greasy on an egg roll, I was happy because neither of us had to worry about anything for that one hour in that red kingdom of solace from reality.

Things have gotten significantly better for us financially but we've still seen our share of hard times in other ways. Those days of dinners in the Galaxy seem like a lifetime ago and yet at the same time they are like yesterday. I know my Mom still feels them breathing down our necks as I do, even as I, at lunch today, simply asked the waiter for the dessert menu because I wanted some chocolate cake. I knew it would be okay. No questions asked. It's just chocolate cake. Lunch with Mom has become something of a routine and not just once a month. We have our favorite places and we go there whever we want.

Today, Floyd waited on us.

He was pretty much the best waiter ever. As we were enjoying our chocolate cake, which he served to us with a manical laugh and the glass of milk with ice I requested (it is the only way to enjoy chocolate cake in my opinion,) he happened to be straightening the table next to us and asked how it was. Like little children with mouths full of sweetness, we nodded our heads and gave him a thumbs up as he laughed again. He said, "You guys are great! Which means I'm great! And what matters is what I think, so that means you guys are doing your job!" We laughed at this strangely logical statement and admitted our defeat at the hand of the cake. Floyd offered to box it up for us and we let him, having been beaten up by a chocolate concoction. We didn't feel bad. We knew what we were getting into.

As my Mom signed the credit card receipt, she made sure to tip Floyd generously as he was truly nice to us and genuninely cared about our experience. Plus, he was an all around nice guy and not a waiter autobot.

Floyd made the lunch that we didn't have to scrape for or save for or wait a whole month for that much more enjoyable. Floyd is a part of the joy of our favorite restaurant and is one of the many reasons why we drive twenty mintes to get a meal instead of settling for craptastic food on our side of town or a cheese sandwich we could have easily made ourselves.

This is for all of the Floyds of the world, making special lunches that much more special. Thanks.