Blog For Free!
Archives
Home
2008 December
2008 November
2006 January
2005 September
2005 August
2005 June
2005 May
2005 April
2005 March
2005 February
2005 January
My Links
The Lynne Show
Spitting Milk Out Your Nose
I blogged therefore I was.
SusanofPudlin's Blog
tBlog
My Profile
Send tMail
My tFriends
My Images
Sponsored
Blog
|
| Observations |
| 09.23.05 (11:09 am) [edit] |
I was riding BART the other day on my way to Berkeley. I was surrounded by blind people with their dogs lying at their feet. These men and women were discussing what movies they'd just 'seen'.
I met the founder of the AIDS quilt a couple of days ago. Very nice man. Very humble.
Women wearing short skirts on windy days stress me out nearly as much as a plumber about to bend over. Nearly.
People will cheer the landing of a distressed airplane more loudly than the winning touchdown of their football game. Especially when these people are going to catch a flight after dinner.
The spin cycle has ended. Clean undies for me!
|
|
|
| |
| Mr. Nelson |
| 09.13.05 (5:10 pm) [edit] |
There are times when we all commit an act of hatred on our fellow humans. It just can't be helped, we are weak creatures. Just the other day I threatened the health and well being of my fellow Californians by knowingly consuming products known to create chemicals that are known to this state to be hazardous to a human's health. I drank soy milk, a substance that when injested by me allows me to double as paint remover. Adding volume to my noxious fume production was the generous amount of hummus I ate. And it would only be fair to mention the tofu I put on my salad.
Generally, I can get away with producing only a limited amout of the most stinky gas by not drinking soy milk. Its the one food I can't digest gracefully. But oh no! I had to have that soy shake because I was starving. Why the hell didn't I just eat a damn Pringle? Or some 17 year old beef jerky being vended in the same store a mere feet away from the stink maker would have given me heartburn and garlic breath but saved millions of brain cells from being melted by the soy milk seepers. To top it off, I had to go to work and hang out behind the bar all by myself. You know every time I let some slip a sassy looking lady dressed in thousands dollars worth of very delicate fabric would appear only to have her frock melted onto her flesh by my woeful wind. So I quickly developed a plan to avoid manslaughter charges. I would leave the bar and stank up the library adjacent to the lobby.
My plan was almost working but the toots were trailing me with an annoying persistence. Desperate for fresh air, I stopped by the concierge desk to flirt with Billy. Never before have I ever met anyone who can switch from professional and helpful to crude and vulgar so quickly. A conversation with him is like doing the Tango with Jeckyll and Hyde. "Good morning, Mr. Oliver! How was dinner at the Fleur de Lys yesterday?" turns into a story related under his breath about the porn he watched the night before featuring a man and a horse and a can of Crisco. (OK, I'm exagerrating, but you get the idea) Just as I'm about to take my leave from him so I could go recreate "Farenheit 451" in the library, our co-worker walked out of the business center located behind the concierge desk. "I just left Mr. Nelson in there. He's in a foul mood and asked to not be disturbed", says Lori as she takes her perch next to Billy. My puzzled facial expression turned into uncontrollable laughter as Billy explained, "Mr. Nelson is our code word for passing gas in the business center and shutting the door on it." I laughed and told the two of them about how I'd been sneaking into the library all day.
A half hour later, Billy comes to the bar with one of the guests of the hotel and introduces me to him and asks if I'd take care of his lunch needs. I said, "It would be my pleasure", becuase I'm supposed to talk like that to our guests and suggested he'd could make himself comfortable anywhere in the room or the library and I would follow with a menu. Billy interjected, "The tables in the library were just refinished this morning. The vapors are still a bit strong in there, I'm told. How about this lovely table by the window, sir?" Not able to control myself, I started to giggle quietly and hurried into the back bar area where Billy followed me. "It's always nice to protect Mr. Nelson's sanctuary, isn't it?"
|
|
|
| |
| the Purse Chucker |
| 09.08.05 (8:06 pm) [edit] |
Several years ago while employed at Arbor Brew I got my hands on three really great seats for Samson and Delilah at Detroit Opera House. Lynne, Mrs. Verlaine, (my mother) and I went downtown on a hot, humid night and watched this very steamy show with jaws agape. We were close enough to the stage to see the toenails of the dancers and the Bacchanale left us all breathless. Opera is such a sensory overload for me. The visual aspect of costumes and movement, the music, the lighting, the tension in the room. I can never get enough of it. Oddly, I don't go very often because I work weekends. Dang.
The last time I saw a show was in Detroit just before I moved to SF. The Magic Flute was showing and I snagged matinee seats for Mom, Kate, Kandis and Carrie. Little did I know that the seats that were in our budget were at the top of the theatre. Opera houses are incredibly steep so that everyone can see the stage and the voices can carry to the furthest reaches of the house. I was also unaware, until that day, that my mother and Kandis have very nearly the same phobias.
"Oh Dear Jesus Lord! I forgot my Xanax!" exclaimed Kan as we got off of an exit ramp in Detoilet only to have to slam on the brakes to avoid ramming a police car that stopped in the middle of a blind curve. (ya gotta be dumb to be a DeeTroyt copper, but do ya have to be an idiot?) We made it without too much incident to the show and took the elevator to our seats on the fourth floor.
The major difference between my mother and Kan when faced with their phobia, in this case heights and the feeling of falling, is that my mother suffers silently. Kandis does nothing silently. "Oh shitballs, I can't believe I'm so high up I have to sit before I fall over the railing and impale myself on some old lady's fucking hair ornament!" compared to, "whoo! we sure are at the top, huh?". Guess who said what. I'm unable to report more about that which came from Kandis' mouth because we weren't able to be seated together. We had seats all arranged in a row just inches from heaven but upon coming up the short stairway and being presented with the altitude of her new home for the next few hours, Kandis put her ass in the first seat she could find and refused to be moved. Luckily no one had purchased the seat in which Kan was squatting and she and Carrie plopped there for the duration of the show. The rest of us climbed up the few remaining rows and found our seats directly over the staiway. My poor mother didn't find this perch very pleasant and when intermission came and I suggested we get up she said, "I'm not going anywhere. I just got used to being here!" Kate and I walked down to visit with Kandis, who was also unable and unwilling to get up from her seat and there it was reported to us, "Jesus fuck, I have to piss so bad there's about to be a waterfall to the main floor but, if I get up, I ain't coming back!" Kate and I peed for all of us.
When the show was over we clapped until we were sweaty with sore palms and waited for the majority of people to move from their seats. When the coast was clear, Kate followed by me, followed by my mother made our way down the stairs to the walkway that would lead us to solid ground. When I was nearing the brightly lit foyer, I heard the unmistakeable sound of my mother's voice, (Kandis was nowhere to be found or heard), "Oh MY GOODNESS! I'm so TERRIBLY sorry! APPARENTLY I had the UNCONTROLABLE URGE to throw my PURSE!!!" It seems that in a moment of vertigo, dear mumsie had a bit of a spasm and threw her purse several seats away from where she was walking, striking a man in the chest. He offered her purse back to her and asked if she was ok. Dear mom has her style. Leave it to her to chuck her purse at a perfect gentleman. "Did you see what happened? Apparently, I had to throw my purse! What if it would have opened and it emptied onto the floor?" I assured my mother that, in that unfortunate instance, the kind man would have picked up all of the contents of the purse and probably asked for her phone number. We found Kandis on the ground floor with Carrie and made our way to the car and then off to a restaurant downtown where we were seated, of all places, on the balcony.
|
|
|
| |
| Without focus |
| 09.07.05 (1:34 pm) [edit] |
I can attest to the deliciousness of the Sharffen Berger chocolate that Lynne mentions in her blog. Yes, we did look stupid with hair nets on our heads but when all you can smell and see is chocolate, who the hell cares? It was fun making fancy-pants drinks for Lynne and company. I made Lynne a drink with star anise, fresh lime, mint, essense of elderflower and vodka. She had a really bright blue vodka spiked lemonade. It was a slow Sunday so I had lots of time to chat. Fun!
That goofy cellist I talked about forever ago is now employed by the Jacksonville Symphony. I guess he won't be asking me to check and see if he left his door open anymore... I'm a bit sad to see him go but so relieved he finally has a job other than freelance teaching. He's flying me to Florida for my birthday and I'll get to see him in concert. Fun!
My roommate and I joined the gym around the corner from us. It's a nice facility and there's never a wait for my favorite machine. It's an eliptical with a huge fan right behind it. I sweat like a mamachoo when I'm on that thing and I need all the evaporational help I can gets. I'm not the type who would take a bus to the gym so it being around the corner is very helpful.
A friend is completing an extended course in reflexology, vibrational massage and some odd cranial techniques. Say hello to guinea pig. He worked on me for over an hour yesterday causing hallucinations for me. How is it that some tissue in your foot can be manipulated and you hear and see things that aren't there? Genius! Had I known about this I never would have had to deal with those messy drug dealers when I was young and stupid.
Dinner time! Who's cooking
|
|
|
| |
|
|
