|
Friday, Oct. 31, 2003 / 6:59 p.m. ~Happy Halloween and Stuff~ My neck is really sore. In that "I think I'm coming down with something" sort of way. I've been up and down all day, but we had fun at work, and late in the day I made Q laugh so hard she made me laugh and my laughing made her laugh and I was in a suspended state of laughation, something which had me fearing I'd burst a vessel somewhere. It was intense. I love that kind of thing. She wore her son's camouflage uniform, and she looked damned good in it. Big earrings and everything. We walked on our morning break, and the air temp was perfect, but later the temp rose to near 80, and it should be that way again tomorrow. Nice, but kinda hot, I think. Yeah, I'm feeling a might bit pukey, sort of flusy, or pre-cold virus-y. And this is typical of post-Demonstrations past. Or post-Demonstration periods past, or something. I'm wonky. But you know what, I was trying to stay awake to see that Fight Club author, Chuck Pahlaniuk, or however you spell it, on Conan last night, and usually I watch Kilborn if anyone, whilst I'm falling asleep, just because he's on after Letterman, and I always thought Conan was dorky, but last night he cracked me up. He was doing the whole talk show host "How much time have I got?" thing, but he was saying it didn't matter, it was his show, and they work for him, and later he said every time they told him to rush he just wanted to slow it down more. I don't know, it was really juvenile, but insubordinate, or subversive, hard to say, but in the end he told the stage manager, or director, whoever the dude was, something about how late they were NOW!!! And you had to be there, you just really did, but Conan is very funny. Just naturally funny, like Dave, very much, but more boyish, if that's even possible. They're both Aries. Very much so. That could be why I'm so tired, I was propping my eyelids open way past my bedtime, and I fell asleep anyway. Never did see Chuck. All of a sudden I'm not sure his name is Chuck. It's Chuck, right? I have the book, that one anyway, I read it even, after I saw the movie. It was really good, as I recall, and the movie was too, but that's as far as I've delved into him, 'Chuck' or not. I'm so rambling. Did I mention it's Halloween and I'm doing the pretending I'm not home thing? No, I spent too much time writing about how ooky I feel. Gladys just rolled around on the carpet, in that "Unh, this feels, unh, SO, mmm..., good" way. Cats. I love them. Oh, right, I didn't buy any candy because when I do, the kids don't come to my door, and vice versa. So, no candy, pretend I'm not home, hope no one knocks. So here's something fun, an illustration of what a good person I can be, not that I need to illustrate it, but I love to give to people when they least expect it. You know? Fuck birthdays, although yeah, I should pay more attention, but the rest of the year, just because times, you know, those times. Q tells me her grandbaby's (her term for the girl) Halloween costume is all ready, she is wearing it at preschool today, and she got everything set except the orange socks. She didn't have time to get those. So... here it is, ready? I have to deposit a couple paychecks at lunch (yeah, a COUPLE, I know!), and I stop in Publix for a Cuban sandwich, and they have a table with Halloween merchandise on it, ready to go, 50% off, and there are socks! Yeah, socks! And a pair of orange kids' socks, with ghosts and bats and stuff on them! I bought them, of course. Little girl needs her orange Halloween socks. Why not? And some adult orange socks with ghosts on them, well, for me. Now, selfishly, I did not buy the whole assortment and pass them out to my coworkers, on account of I'm the childish one (the one who wears socks with kitties and ghosts and things on them) and I don't expect them to be, but Penelope later told me she would've liked some Halloween socks too. Fine. No, I didn't go back. The other pairs were mostly black with bats on them anyway, not too great. But Q was sort of overcome with thanks. Jeez, it's just socks. You said the kid needed the orange socks, there they were, so I got them for her. No biggie. And then Jane had to say how thoughtful it was of me. Yeah, yeah, I know. As long as you appreciate the effort, I'll give you the clothes off my back. That's an Aries thing too. Look it up. Here, I wrote something this morning at work, let's upload it and see what it is... "Funny (coincidence, or irony, funny) that yesterday I was writing about how much I love that our NPR station plays classical music, that they always have, and how much I appreciate that, how we need it here, it�s our only classical music radio station, and how ridiculous it is that the free weekly had this story about how some locals are fighting the station, wanting them to play more of the NPR chat shows. Well... I picked up this week�s free weekly and there are SIX letters to the editor defending the station�s programming, commending the fact that they play classical music and waxing on about how valuable the music of 'dead white European men' actually is. Hooray! It's not just me. Here is where I remember my father�s love of classical music, and how funny it was when he got turned on to country music, his collection consisting of numerous vinyl LPs of Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, and Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Tammy Wynette, Dolly Parton, etc. So, well, it�s Halloween. H., our Supervisor, gave us each black and orange bags of goodies, orange juice, bananas, candy bars. Good god, our accounts payable person just casually mentioned her cat of 15 years had a diabetic seizure yesterday and died, �Oh yeah, he�s in kitty heaven now, no more white hair everywhere.� I�m sorry, but is this her way of coping? No more white hair everywhere now? Excuse me? FIFTEEN years, her only animal, and that�s the eulogy? That�s one of those things I wish I hadn�t heard. When N and G finally go, expect me to be incapacitated, and I may ask for leave to mourn. I won�t be extolling the benefits of a catless household, mentioning how nice it is not to clean a litter box anymore, etc. Again, good god. So, one of the Emode.com matchmaking guys fucked with me royally last night, got me to write back to him, give him a little of who I am, before he told me he�s really looking for someone who will understand him, someone warm and compassionate, someone unlike me. I think he�s in a wheelchair, but he wouldn�t do more than hint at his �acquired disability�. How can I know how I feel about it, how can I know if I�d �fall madly in love� with a guy like him unless I have some idea of who he is? He tried to suck me in, then when I began to ask questions he wrote me off as quickly as possible. And when I responded to that, of course, angrily, he told me to �grow up�, which is what people say when they want to run away, they can�t face you, they try to insult you and leave. Just when I think I can respond to someone, I can �date�, I can try again, I realize I really don�t care for men and all the games they play. My neck hurts, my lower eyelid is twitching, I�m not feeling well at all, Q�s in the mood to talk, and I want to be quiet and read. H. has on an extravagant costume and works it every time someone new sees it. Being here is hard right now." See, I was feeling ooky then too. Still ooky, the neck pain thing. The hot eyeballs thing. Uck. Those big sneezes that seem like they come up all the way from my feet? Yeah, but no real congestion, yet. I'm fighting. Big time. No cold! No cold! Hell no, we won't blow! Or something. Gee. Anything else? H. was funny today, balloons for bosoms. She was dressed as a, oh, fuck, I can't write it, she'll Google it. Forget it. Um, wait, let's use code... she went as that funny person that works under the big top, you know? The one with the multicolored hair and white face, but she didn't have the white face, and she was pregnant, or with balloon, and she blamed it on the one who also works under that big top, the one who works with the animals that ROAR! The one who makes them docile, you get it? The answer is two words: _io_ T__er. She said it's his fault. You really had to be there, but when she first came down the aisle, she was waddling, she had this wig on, with this stuffed green Frankentstein headband over it, and she had the whole spiel she went into, who she was, etc. It was very clever. Okay, I'm going to pop some cheddar popcorn now, and lie down. Well, I'll sit up to eat, of course, and then I'll lie down, but I've been wanting to lie down all day. Dammit, one more thing. I have to note this somewhere. On my way home for lunch, I got on the highway, as usual, but the highway going in the other direction, the north side, was empty. EMPTY. Like post-apocalyptic empty. Like dream state empty. Like creepy ghost town empty. NO CARS, NO TRUCKS, on this major truck route up and down the east coast. I got to my exit, at this point pointing to the other side of the highway, to myself, to anyone who'd see me pointing, like "WHOA!!! LOOK!!! WHAT'S GOING ON?!?!?!?", and traffic was backed up at my exit, two police cars blocking our way. I went to the next exit, major traffic everywhere, and crossing over the overpass I saw traffic flowing beneath. I was beginning to doubt what I'd seen, thinking I'd hallucinated. I went to the ATM, the Publix, did the socks thing, the Cuban thing, came home, deposited juice for later in the fridge, said hi to the cats, grabbed the trash for the dumpster, drove it there, deposited it, got back on the highway and went back to work. Traffic flowing, albeit slowly due to everyone cutting out of work early for the big ghoulish evening. Freaky as hell. All I can think is that some high ranking someone or other was here to go to the ARB nearby. Um, that's air reserve base. Bush flies in and out of there sometimes, so I don't know. Was he here? Did I miss something? Why in hell would the police shut down the highway? No accident, no chemical spill, just shut it down? I have no answer, but it was weird. And at this point, yes, it's possible I hallucinated, but I don't believe I did. Cost of the War in Iraq
(JavaScript Error)
Recent Entries: It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012 Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012 As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009 I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009 Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009 
  |