Category: blog

Although I would never consider myself a collector (Tree would consider this denial), I go through phases when I collect things. There was a time, in 2005, when I collected coat trees. Not a lot, just enough for my coats, and I have a lot of coats. After that phase I collected lamps. I really didn’t see it as collecting, rather, a positive way to ‘light up my life’ while providing a tribute to Debbie Boone.

As you know, if you are a regular reader, which you may not be because ‘followers’ are not something I collect, I recently purchased a large chaise lounge. I thought it would be great in my basement, however, I can’t get it through the stairway opening. I probably could if I was missing a step or two, which 12 steppers probably think is the case with me anyway; Tree definitely does, especially after I sent him a picture of my front room that featured wall-to-wall couches. “You’ve got a problem. I never thought I would say this, to anyone, but you are a couch collector,” he told me. “I don’t think so,” I replied while trying to decide on which couch I would sit. “You’re missing the first step: admitting you are powerless over this problem. Denial girl,” he replied.

Later, while sitting on my couches, I decided to review the steps, both of them – those going down into my basement and those related to addiction. I really only felt comfortable with the eighth step, but only half of it, and then I realized I read it wrong. “Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.” I agreed with the first half when I thought it read, “Made a list of all persons who have harmed us.” Once I read it write, I didn’t agree with any of it. There is one word of the 12th step that works for me, “awakening.” Having this many couches provides me with plenty of places to sleep, thus, plenty of places for awakening.

Tree decided to share my blog with Book Nook, however, he did so by cutting and pasting the entry ‘featuring’ the two of them and sent it to Book Nook as a text. “Thanks, that should really help my analytics,” I told Tree. “I’m not ready for him to be going directly to it and reading it and, you should know, he really likes that he is an inanimate object in it,” Tree informed me. “Fine. I’ll keep writing your diary for you,” I said.

The next day, as we discussed the blog, Tree informed me he told his cousin the story about sharing the blog via text and the fact that Book Nook has a blog name. Apparently, his cousin became quite upset by the fact that he doesn’t have a blog name. “Does he read it?” I asked. “No,” Tree replied. “Well then he definitely doesn’t get a blog name. If he did, it would be something like, ‘He Who Doesn’t Warrant A Name,'” I told Tree. “I’ll let him know tomorrow,” he replied and added, “I’ve been reading it more, even when I’m not in it.” “Let me take a look,” I told him and then pulled up analytics. “Look at that, six readers on March 30 and 13 on April 1st. Do you think the latter is a joke?” “Maybe,” he replied.

I typically get my news from one source, the ONION – sometimes just from the headlines because, sometimes they only have headlines. When I have a little extra time I’ll watch Weekend Report on Saturday Night Live, but I record it, so it is usually old news by the time I see it. I do, however, record every new episode of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. I’m thinking about taking time off work so I can watch them. When I want to know what the weather is going to be like, instead of tuning into the local news, like most people, I just check in with my friends who get weather related migraines and old-injury pains. I also check facebook – the weather reports via pictures and status updates are usually pretty up to the minute.

The other day I stumbled upon this headline on one of the ONION articles, “Guy With 10,000 Tweets, 15 Followers About Ready To Hang It Up.” Although they had a story to accompany the headline, those ten words and two numbers really spoke to me. “Sounds like my blog, except he has double the followers,” I thought to myself. Like Gartner, although I never expected to have 500,000 followers, after three years of telling the world wide web what my friends and are doing I thought I would have at least 20+ steady followers. I regularly write what my friends and others believe to be blogworthy, but I can’t help but wonder, “Is this blog worthy?”

Yesterday, Bruiser and her beau attended a wedding vow renewal ceremony at a local Baptist church. “It was really entertaining,” Bruiser informed me and then validated her comment with, “Amen! Tell the truth!” “There was a ton of that going on and the music was awesome,” her beau interjected. “I must admit, though not a believer, I like the energy at some of those churches. Singing, dancing, applauding, amening, stuff that keeps people on their toes,” I said. “Tell the truth!” Bruiser shouted out. “I am,” I replied.

Her beau continued to tout the music, “The groom and his daughter sang Unforgettable. His daughter’s voice is incredible.” “I’ve got video,” Bruiser told me, pulled out her phone, and hit ‘play.’ “Is he looking at his phone for the lyrics?” I asked. “Yes, they both are,” her beau advised. “So I guess Unforgettable is actually quite forgettable,” I quipped. “Amen! Tell the truth!” they both said in unison.

Bruiser then showed me pictures from the ceremony. “I like the outfits,” I told her. “They’re great, right? It was a lot of good people looking but not a lot of good looking people.” “Amen!” Beau piped in. “Tell the truth!” I followed suit.

Sleepless, Ice Cream Man, Tree and I decided to grace the city with our presence this weekend. Thus, we got all dressed up, well, we got dressed, and headed to the bar. Being that Sleepless, Ice Cream Man and I had enjoyed pre-drinks at my house prior to retrieving Tree from the train station, we were more than ready to go (to the bathroom and out on the town). With Tree in tow, we drove toward the bar, passing the homeless shelter along the way. “Looks like the homeless are having a block party,” Sleepless commented on the shelter/street that was lined with homeless and police vehicles. “Let’s check in!” Tree excitedly replied while quickly checking us in on facebook. Luckily, when we drink, our temperament stays the same: assholes.

Once at our destination we found it to be full of hipsters. “Great,” Tree commented. “What do you call a hipster who is an asshole?” I asked him. “A hipster,” he replied. “Does that mean we’re hipsters?” I asked. Instead of answering the question, Sleepless and I asked Tree to take a picture of our hips, with our panties hoisted high above our pant line, and posted it on instagram with this tagline, “A couple of hips…ters.” Drunk photo posts and status updates are awesome.

We continued to enjoy our time at the bar, in spite of the other patrons. As Sleepless and I danced, Tree told stories that we apparently didn’t hear. “I’m going back to my phone, it listens to me,” he sullenly told us. “OK,” we said and danced on. “The problem with keeping up with drunk conversation is that everyone is drunk,” he continued to talk to us and then shared his opinion about a male patron’s feelings toward me, “He thinks you’re crazy.” “He doesn’t know I have a pension or a low co-pay. Who is crazy now?” I replied. “Again, drunk conversation,” Tree stated. Just because I don’t listen is no reason for him to get snippy with me.

Once the bar closed, we helped the patrons/assholes/hipsters, most of whom are probably not circumcised, find the appropriate exit.  The ‘piece’ about circumcision is important because, as we learned from Ice Cream Man during pre-drinks, “I’m gonna tell you right now, from being on swim team, most of ’em (men) are circumcised. Those who aren’t don’t have much personality.” Oh, snap! Or, in this case, snip!

Tree and I regularly talk about how strange it is that we aren’t in a relationship – not with each other, with others. He has been a bit stressed out lately because he had to have ‘the talk’ with Book Nook about the fact that he is HIV positive. This is, not surprisingly, a difficult conversation for Tree. The post-conversation can be just as difficult because a lot of people shy away from the idea of dating someone with HIV. Luckily for Tree, the post-conversation with Book Nook was quite simple. “This would be a lot easier if you were ugly,” was Book Nook’s sarcastic and supportive reply.

As Tree and I discussed this over coffee we also mentioned how, if we were animals, we would most likely be cheetahs.  Neither of us can really remember how or why we came to this conclusion. It is known that most female cheetahs live alone, so there is that.  It is also known that cheetahs are quite fast at catching their prey. Sadly, we’re not so fast and the only thing we tend to catch is a disease. Like the cheetah, however, we share the need to rest for at least 30 minutes, maybe more, after a hard ‘chase’ and we’ve been known to stutter or make agonistic vocalizations on more than one occasion.

Perhaps we made the cheetah comparison because we didn’t want to be called cougars; although, neither of us have ever taken offense to that ‘title.’ Cougars, however, do tend to be stalkers and will ‘hunt’ for hours. That is so not us and so not cheetahs – they’ll give up on their prey if they can’t catch them after a fast-paced sprint. Looks like our comparison was, literally, spot on.

Dr. BJ and I were doing a little shopping before dinner when a purse caught my eye. It was on the clearance rack, originally priced $80. I did as I often do when assessing a purse, I made sure zippers worked and checked storage capacity. The pockets were deep, which was nice. As I put my hand in the last pocket I felt something inside. Assuming it was a silica gel pack, I pulled the item out to find it was a folded twenty dollar bill.

I looked at Dr. BJ in shock. “Did you really just pull that out of there?” he asked. “Yes,” I excitedly replied. “I think that is a sign that  you need to buy it,” he advised. “Excuse me, how much is this purse?” I asked the sales associate. “$20,” he replied. “Let’s get it and go,” Dr. BJ said.

I paid for the purse (it actually paid for itself) and we made our way to dinner. “What if we were being filmed for one of those ‘What Would You Do?’ shows?” Dr. BJ asked. “I hope we were. We both look great today,” I said and, while perusing the menu, inquired, “What is satay?” Dr. BJ quipped, “The day before Sunday.” “I hope they’re still filming us. Not only do we look good, we’re funny too,” I replied.

The other day, just prior to arriving at work (well, not me, but those who arrive at work in the 8 o’clock hour), I received an email from the administrative services staff in our building. The email was sent to everyone in the building and advised us they had spent the evening prior, from 5-10:30 PM, conducting an inspection. While doing said inspection, they ‘took some extra time in helping some of you spring clean.’ Translation: They plundered our offices – taking down anything that was taped or pinned to walls, flipper files and the like. In addition, they ‘did note who had extra furniture that was not intended.’

After doing this, they moved on to policing the horticulture and reminded us, ‘you are only allowed 1 plant in a 6″ pot.’ From there they focused on something we all prefer to be in focus, photos (we’re only allowed one or two framed photos of family or a favorite pet, a nice picture, or calendar). Luckily, they cut us some photo slack this inspection, ‘We did not take pictures this time, too much tape in the way….’ Next on their list was personal appliances that are not allowed in the office or allowed with restrictions. For example, ‘Laps also need a energy efficient bulb.’ Yes, laps.

Luckily, I don’t have plants or photos of my family – all of my photos are of other people’s families so I’m in the clear there. I did, however, arrive to work to find several of my belongings laying atop my keyboard and desk. In a pile on my desk was the ‘LOVE WILL TEAR US APART’ banner that I taped to my windows a year or so ago with the intention of using it as Charlotte used her web. Unfortunately, I was never able to spell out ‘TERRIFIC,’ ‘RADIANT,’ ‘HUMBLE,’ or ‘SOME PIG.’ Scattered across my keyboard were several emails from my superiors with pertinent deadlines and information vital to my job – these had previously been taped to a flipper file because I love to use tape to buck the system whenever possible.

Although I knew I needed a badge to get into my office, I had no idea I needed a passport – it felt like I was in China or, if you added a time machine to the mix, 1930-1940s Germany. As much as I wanted to stay and re-tape my belongings to the window and flipper file, I knew I had to escape the madness. So, I told my boss, “I’d love to stay and chat, but the Von Trapp family is waiting for me outside. So long, farewell, Auf wiedersehen, adieu. Adieu, adieu, to yieu and yieu and yieu.”

The Triple Scoop (Ice Cream Man, Sleepless and I) made plans to have dinner/drinks and go to a concert the day after National Corndog Day. This was much needed because, after a day of corndogs, the only thing one needs related to the dog is a little hair of it, if you know what I mean.

When Ice Cream Man and Sleepless arrived to retrieve me they found Tree lounging on the chaise and me in the CO chair – both of us in a corndog coma. “Care to join us this evening,” Ice Cream Man, always polite, invited Tree. “No thanks, I’ll just stay here. My mom was supposed to come and get me but she got stoned,” Tree replied. “I hate when that happens,” Ice Cream Man, now being politely sarcastic, said in response. “I was gonna pick up my son but then I got high,” I sang. Unlike Ice Cream Man, I am not polite, rather, I’m just trying to make Afroman proud.