Meanwhile, back at the ranch....

I'm just getting over this retarded flu-thing that kicked my ass this weekend. Barely making it through my shift on Sat. afternoon, I get home to discover I have a fever of 101! What am I, like, 5? I don't remember the last time I had a fever, but I will say the bonus is getting to lay in bed and do NOTHING. And there's no guilt! I did miss a couple of shifts, which is sadly detrimental to my financial position, but at least I'm feeling better.
I can't say my welcome back into the land of the living was very positive, what with the recent news of Gov. Spitzer's DOUCHEBAGGERY!!
Seriously?
Seriously!!
Am I surprised? NO.
Disappointed? ABSOLUTELY!
Look, I get it. Nobody's perfect. However, if you're gonna hold public office, try not to fuck it up by paying for hookers, with money you've laundered, during your first term as Governor. You've got four whole years to screw up, why be premature? At least Clinton waited until he was six years in.
I understand that men in power have been cheating on their wives with hookers and other types since ole' Georgie chopped that damn tree down, but in this day and age, in a country so divided, I'd be watching my ass a little bit closer. If you're gonna cheat: fine. You're a disgusting disgrace, hey, that's between you and your wife. But, if you're so rich that you've got an extra $80,000 to spend on hookers (when you have a perfectly handsome wife at home who you can plow all you want in your 5th ave. apartment) why not take a minute to toss one off, think about the consequences and use that money to put some needy kids through college.
Well, now you've resigned, as you should have, lost the trust of your family and country, ruined your political career and been replaced by a man who is legally blind.
Ahhhhhh, I hope that was some sweet Vagine.

Good Day Sunshine

Never before have I been so in love with the sun. I mean, I grew up in San Diego for Christ's sake but I never knew true love until now.
Oh, Portland.
You've teased me with your blue skies and warm temperatures before, but I can't resist taking advantage of you again... you beautiful thing, you.
Dillon and I spent a gorgeous afternoon on our bikes, riding through our neighborhood and further north where I hadn't been. It was super fun.See, SUPER fun.
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On another note, last night we watched an amazing documentary called 'The Business of Being Born'. It was a phenomenal look at how women give birth in this country, the disappearance of Midwives and the reason behind an alarming rise in the rate of C-sections.
I've thought a lot about having kids and just assumed I'd be one of those women who'd be screaming for more drugs, swearing at my husband and spitting on the doctor. I even rejected the idea of breast feeding (it creeps me out), much to the dismay of my BF, April, who spent years as a labor & delivery nurse. After seeing this film, I know now that I will NOT be one of those women. Giving birth has become something as simple as a pedicure, just another appointment penciled in for so many women. I guess I feel like I owe it to myself to have the whole experience, to really live in that moment and be present the whole time. Obviously my thoughts are premature since I'm saving myself for marriage, but I like to plan ahead.
Seriously, though, see this film.

Private Eyes (clap clap) are watching you

In honor of our cat, whose hunting and stalking skills we find to be hilarious, Dillon and I tried our own hands at it. This is what happened:




I think we did pretty well.
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In keeping with the day's stalking theme, I was sitting in my apartment alone when I heard unfamiliar sounds in the stairwell to my apartment. After a moment's panic for unfamiliar noise, I realized it was the neighbor-kids playing around. I crept up to the peeophole and saw three boys carrying toy guns, playing 'Gang' or 'Sopranos' or 'Crack Deal Goes Bad'. I don't know.

Ballsy.

I mean, go play on your own concrete stairs, you punks. You've got some gumption climbing up my stairs and trying to off each other on my spanish language reversible doormat.

So I made a very adult decision. I had to fuck with them.
I let them play for a couple of minutes, all the while peeping at their misshapen heads and long faces via the hole. Very carefully, I raised my hand up towards my head.; Rested my knuckles lightly on the door; and knocked. Loudly.

The look on their faces was priceless. I watched one boy run down the stairs and not stop running until he reached the end of the front lot. I laughed out loud to myself, semi-maniacally and came to a couple of realizations:

1. I'm becoming one of those weird adults who likes to be weird and do weird things. Sometimes genuinely, sometimes to get attention. I remember these people from my own childhood. I'd like to think it's due to my reaching the point where I actually don't care what people think and I mainly do bizarre things because I get a kick out of it.

2. I'm pretty good at stalking.

Nesting

I asked. His name is Matthew.
Thanks, Matthew.
Have I mentioned that our apartment is really starting to come together? Now is the first time that I feel like I have my own home. And it's really comfy and filled with silly things and silly people. And love. Lots and lots of love. 'Aint life grand?

Goodwill? No, Greatwill!

I love the Goodwill! It may be the thing I miss most about Portland. We have one within walking distance and it's become like a second home.
REASONS WHY I LOVE GOODWILL:

1. Cheap and Used. It's how I like my furniture and my men.

2. Retards. Goodwill employs people with disabilites. But here's the trick. A lot of these people look fairly normal but when you approach them to ask for help it quickly becomes clear that this picnic is a few sandwiches short. I don't know the name of my favorite guy, but he's usually sweeping the floor and saying 'Hello' to everyone in this deep, robotic voice that makes me think he was probably in an accident at one time and had to re-learn how to do everything. His words are free of emotion, yet he holds an honest interest in the conversation. Tomorrow I'll ask his name.

3. Neat stuff. You would think in a town like Portland, with so many trendy folks shopping at thrift stores, that the selection of items would suffer. Not true, my friend. Not at MY Goodwill! Their inventory is constantly changing and I love browsing through their paperback books! I found a vintage copy of The Great Gatsby and an old Encyclopedia Brown.
4. Crazy People. Thanks to the black lady I ran into yesterday, standing in the Bible section singing 'Psychiatry, it is a joke'. I especially liked it when you yelled at that guy who walked in front of you. He should have known you were 'rogue law enforcement' and I silently agreed when you called him a 'tool'. I applaud your honesty, Crazy Black Lady who I overheard say you've been 'checking out the same 3 books from the library for over a year so you thought you should come on down here and finally buy them'. Gee, thanks.

Dillon's home now, so we're off the pick up the small dresser and table I bought a Goodwill earlier today. I got both for under 10 bones. How is it that I'm this thrifty and not Jewish?

Balls

Staying true to my faux jewness, I made matzo ball soup for the first time today. I made the balls too big, having no idea how much they'd expand when boiled. So, I've got big balls. But, damn, they taste great.
Also, being someone who has lived without a garbage disposal for most of my adult life, I managed to clog our kitchen sink by feeding it chopped off ends of the celery and carrots I used in the soup. I was able to get the water to go down a bit, but our maintenance guy is sick today so who knows when it'll get fixed. Looks like it'll be dishes in the bathroom for a couple of days. Gross.
I have to go shower now.... perhaps I'll pull a Kramer and prepare my next meal while I'm in there.

over

I'm so over hearing my downstairs neighbors have sex. Seriously. DOWNSTAIRS. I could understand if they were above me, but no. I'm depressed to consider the shoddy construction of my building, the paper thin walls and meager hot water heater. All of this can be yours for the very low price of TOO FUCKING MUCH a month!
It was beer friday, so Dillon and I brought home another three cases. I like to line it up against the wall and stare at it. I can't imagine we'll be putting a dent in it anytime soon, so feel free to come out here and take a crack at it.
I joined a book club with some girls from work and our first novel is Cannery Row by John Steinbeck. I'm really excited about the book, discussion and future nights of boxed wine and drunken laughter. These ladies are a beautiful, shining rainbow protruding from a very dark sky that is my everyday hell at the Widmer. Thanks Gals!
Have a I mentioned lately how much I love Dillon? No? Cause I do. So much more than I ever knew possible. He feeds my heart and soul through laughter, honesty and love. Every day. He's also totally obsessed with the cat and treats it like a baby. When I question this behavior he simply tells me, "She likes it!". And I like it, too.