Staring Down the Barrel of a (Hot Glue) Gun

Sometimes your mind can be so open that your brain falls out.

Monday, March 24, 2008

I Rememebr One Time...

The only brush with a celebrity I've had (or, at least that I can recall.)

Back in the Jurassic period, I lived in San Francisco. More specifically, I was living just off of Market Street with J&E, about halfway between downtown and Castro (if you are familiar, think The Mint.)

Anyhow, I had plans one evening to hang out with Bunji, and together we had plans to head up to the Castro to hang out with *his* friend Scott (and yes, all the characters in this particular story are quite gay.) Now Scott split his time between SF and LA; he was trying to break into the entertainment business, dontcha know? And amazingly, he'd made a few contacts/friends and one of them was in town. Would we mind hanging out with *his* friend Scott? Sure! No problem! Let's all meet at Bunji's place.

Now, I can't honestly recall if I knew in advance who Scott 2 was, or if I found out after getting to Bunji's place. But I ended up spending the evening with Scott Thompson from The Kids in the Hall. The four of us flounced into Cafe Flor (ah, my fag hag days....) and had quite tasty food, if I recall correctly. It wasn't a huge deal to be sitting across the table from Scott 2; in fact he was quite normal and down to earth and all that other crap you hear about celebrities. But it was still kind of a thrill. OMG! TKiTH! I touched someone from TKiTH! Ok, not my favorite Kid, but still!
And then about halfway through dinner, I don't remember much about Scott Thompson at all. In fact, I could no longer hold up my fork. Oh, did I forget to mention? I also got quite stoned with Scott Thompson from The Kids in The Hall. Yep, before we headed to the restaurant, the boys lit up. Not being a smoker, I enjoyed mine with peanut butter and (too many) crackers (and yes, everything does taste better when it sits on a Ritz!) One of my first experiences with Wacky Tobacc-y, and a learning one to boot.
I'm assuming we left the restaurant, because I recall walking home. I also recall having to concentrate like mad to get my feet to keep moving one in front of the other (I kept grinding to a halt otherwise), aaaand there's a good possibility I didn't just imagine that forward and back swaying motion while I walked. And then I got home and typed embarrasing emails to people I knew.
So, there you have it. My brush with fame, and at least one lampost. The end.

Like a Moody Sieve

I have a poor memory. Or maybe more correctly, I have a selective memory. And unfortunately, the stuff my brain tends to remember is not always pleasant. One might even say it prefers only recalling the negative and hurtful things. For instance, if I feel you've wronged me in some way, well then yeah, I'm gonna remember that til the day I die. That particular memory will come up every day and twice on Sundays. But the good stuff? The ones with the creamy make-you-feel-happy filling? Its like someone wipes that particular drive clean every 30 minutes.

Husband and I were actually talking about this very thing a week ago. Somehow or another, the topic of flying came up again, and I realized that I almost never think about the fact that I used to fly airplanes, and used to enjoy it. I never think to myself, 'Wow, I earned five certificates/licences and I was the valedictorian of my class when I studied for those two additional FAA mainenance licences!' Or, 'Remember that time I flew all around the country by myself?' No. That just does not happen. And for the record, the only reason I was thinking about the time I did the AIDS ride to Los Angeles was because I was doing laundry yesterday and pulled out the ratty training tshirt they gave us. One of the best times I've ever had. Almost 600 miles over a week, and it lead to some pretty good sex after the fact. But if you'd asked me two days ago to name one of my favorite memories, that would never have come up.

Yesterday I was reminded of yet another good thing that happened to me that I had totally forgotten about, and I just started getting fed up. I realize that life happens and everyone gets distracted, but I think I need to start actively trying to remind myself about the good stuff. I've even considered getting a list tattooed on my arm - seriously. The chances of me forgetting my arm can't be that big, right? (Shit -- I just remembered I have a tattoo on my leg I forget about all the time! Fuck!) Instead, I'll just have to make do with writing them down on said blog to hopefully stumble across at a later date. I'm considering sending myself random Yahoo reminders with links to such posts so that I don't even have to go looking for them. Hmmm...

These memories are not necessarily going to be things I've accomplished and should try to remember, although I think I get bonus points for those. I may even stray off into times that were memorable, but not exactly for good reasons. Hell, I might even start making shit up (I'll mark those with an asterik if I do.) Might make for good reading if I do.....

Saturday, March 15, 2008

HCD Strikes Again

Zen master I ain't.

I got a mass email from SVdP earlier this week, once again bestowing praises and much thanks on all of us who participated in this years D2D event. You are all fantastic blah blah so impressed blah blah reminder of the date blah blah need volunteers blah blah. That sort of thing. Fine, good.

But then, with a few offhanded flicks of her wrists, the woman blithely types "Oh, the judges were here looking at the entries and we should know in the next week or two who the winners are."

Insert cartoon-like double take here.

What?!? Judging?! I demand to know what is she talking about! Sure, I thought there was gonna be some sort of informal voting at the de Young display by the people who came to check stuff out, but actual judges? Who are these judges of which you speak? And why, in the name of [deity of choice] would you go and tell us that there were still two weeks until the decision would be made?!?! Hel-LO, keep yer trap shut until you've picked winners and are ready to announce them, you moron! Don't you know you are dealing with a bunch of highly competitive perfectionists who all believe their work should win? (I refuse to believe I am the only one cut from this particular fabric out of all of these, err, fabric cutters.)

Oh yes -- and as a follow up to this little bombshell, she (doesn't!) regret to inform us that they're also in the process of picking out the garments to be put on display at various public locations (store windows, I think.)

OMG! OMG! OMG! Shut! Up! Already!

Now, I have been trying really really hard to be all cool and cucumber-like since I got this email. I have tried reminding myself that this is about raising money for a good cause. I have tried reminding myself that there are some incredibly fantastic entries this year, and that while ambitious, my dress probably might not be able to stand up to the competition. Hell, I've even tried drawing lines into the sand of Mags' sandbox, outlining Donald Duck figurines and three-wheeled Matchbox cars with a red plastic rake in hopes it would help me be more calm and zen about this whole thing.

Its no secret ("You're from the Chronicle? Why yes, I have time for an interview...") that I would like to be a 'winner' in some capacity - ok, of any sort - in voting or judging that may or may not be talking place as we speak. But if they're gonna leave me hanging like this, what I really want to do is drive up to the city and chase that woman around her desk, waving my suddenly un-zenlike Red Rake of Wrath (tm) menacingly in her direction until she buckles and gives me some sort of lame merit badge or at least tells me my dress is going to be on display in the women's room of the local Safeway. Throw me a bone here, people! Don't leave me hangin'!


Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Ouchie Stingy

Not that I've been burning up the internet lately, but I'm gonna be blogging even less than normal for a while. Email, too. My elbows and forearms have been in a fair amount of pain lately, probably due to months and months of post-surgery time in front of the computer with poor posture and poor keyboard setup. For whatever the reason, I'm just gonna give these old apendages some downtime. And some ice and ibuprofen as well. Need to NOT fuck up my wrists and arms, especially if, say for example, I want to use them for a career in sewing. T'would be bad, methinks.

But I do have some good news to share...has to do with sewing...and the color red...and the phrase, "You're amazing!" Will leave you hanging with that for now. Even this amount of typing is pissing off my arms. Arg.

Thursday, March 06, 2008

Remind Me Again *Why* I Read The News?

Ahh, right! Because I want to have some minimal idea as to what is going on in the world so I don't make an ass of myself in front of my peers. Its certainly not to cheer me up, that's for sure.

Today's CNN headlines:

* 8 Killed In Jerusalem Seminary
* Bomb Attacks Kill 58 in Baghdad
* UNC Student President Shot, Killed
* Times Square Bombing


Tuesday, March 04, 2008

The Trouble With Moustaches

People are so WEIRD.

I'm not a good fundraiser. Never have been. As a Girl Scout oh-so-many moons ago, I was petrified of going door to door to sell cookies. Talking to strangers! A chance of rejection! Competition with my peers! Thank god for Mom selling them at work or they probably would've revoked my bridge and wings patches.

I did the AIDS ride back in '95? '98? and had the lofty fundraising goal of $2500. I did pretty good, but it was like pulling teeth (especially with some of my family: "AIDS? I can't support that -- those people deserve it!") and I still had to cover $500 of it myself.

So, when I registered for the Habitat for Humanity Build-a-Thon next month and realized I had to raise $800, I figured I'd run into problems. Was counting on it, in fact. So much so, that I jokingly threw out the promise that I'd do the whole event in contruction 'drag' - complete with moustache - when I sent out the 'sponsor me' link.

Well! Today someone queried me about how to donate via check instead of credit card, so I went to the H4H website to get the information. And what to my wondering eyes should appear? Why, a list of top fundraisers by name, and I'm somehow already in SECOND FUCKING PLACE! In, what, two days? I've managed to raise $400, and I've got promises for another $300. Hell, I should've emailed my friends promising to wear a fake moustache if they paid me money YEARS ago! Moustaches are hawt!

So now there's a damned good chance I'm gonna have to make good on my hairbrained hairlip promise. Who knew?! And me, so out of practice being a big freak! But, I said I'd do it if I raised $1000, and I meant it. I'm thinking now of calling myself 'Team Moustache' for the fundraiser. Maybe have some sort of moustache-of-the-day thing going on. Chest hair? Is chest hair too much? I never know...

Shameless (hair) plug! Sponsor me here! Fulfill your moustachioed fantasies! (And if you already have - sponsored me, that is - thanks again!)