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Monday, Nov. 11, 2002 / 6:52 p.m. ~Raw and Squiggly~ Yesterday was so warm we had the porch door open most of the day, the warm wind gusting through the apartment, sort of moist and warm, not terribly pleasant, but not stuffy for a change. The girls ventured out, of course, and Gladys came running back in, with cockroach in mouth. I knew what she was doing, heard the scuffle on the porch, saw the puzzled look on Norman's face. She's done this before. Gladys is my official bug catcher girl. She's expert at it, bringing in the prey, the larger the better, in her mouth, dropping it in the inner sanctum (the library last night), and batting it around until it can no longer run. Most unpleasant for the insect. Usually a leg or two or three or more are lost in this battle, this game of cat and � well, cockroach, or innards are squoozed out, as last night, and I come along to do the final squoozing and flushing, or if the prey is in working order I might partake in the patented 'catch and release program' I've implemented. Last night some gooshy bit was left upon the faux Oriental and a brown smudge on the regular carpet, so I put an end to the suffering of the little god's creature (whatever), smooshed it some more, but when I went to flush the remains, it still was thrashing about. Damned hardiest animals in the fookin' world, cockroaches. And all the fun spoiled for the girls. Sorry. I cleaned my toilet yesterday. Now Hugh Hefner can use it if he drops by (see earlier entry somewhere in my recent archives for a detailed explanation, or not). And� ! I installed the new toilet seat I bought a month or two or three ago and shoved under my bed. It was a major hassle getting the old one off (pliers were called for), but I did it, and the new one is so fabulous I am tempted to photograph it and post said photo in my diary. It's cushy. Midnight blue and cushy, with a Zodiac wheel, stars, a sun?, a moon?, you know, that kind of thing, in gold, on the lid. Sweet. End result, perhaps not quite ended yet, of yesterday's unseasonal warmth was a big storm last night. Major lightning and horrifically loud thunder, which is never pleasant in itself, but even less so when it happens before dawn on a Monday morning. CRACK! Holy shit, are we gonna die or what? That kind of stuff. Unh huh. Yeppers. Jesus, I'm struggling here. It's 5:35 p.m., it's quiet here at work, just the 'new boy', Listerine (who is sick, again), the 'new girl' and me. Oh, and D., the Supervisor. Shhhhh� The 'new boy' has just engaged me in conversation and I've lost my train, a bit. Not that there was much of a train to begin with. My mind is fairly active, a lot is going on in there, but I'm idling. I'm like that commercial on WE (Women's Entertainment Television), the woman who is doing her Yoga stretches, reminding herself to 'breathe', and 'buy diapers', and finally to 'shave my legs'. I'm just trying to remember everything, prioritize, and yet I'm distracted by this and that, like Randy, the upcoming Demo this weekend (involving a road trip), and my end of cycle horniness. Minor distraction, that last one, but it's influencing things, a bit. Time to regroup, plan for the immediate future, like where I go when I leave here, i.e. gas, food, cash, home. I watched Ruth Reichl's new show on Food Network last night, and I'm sorry to say, as much as I loved her book Comfort Me With Apples, I really, really don't like the show. I don't get the gist. Too many shots of Ruth just sitting, with too much bright red lipstick, smiling. Huh? The remembrances of NYC past, sure, great, the old film footage, unh huh, I get it, the trip to Fulton Fish Market to watch her eat squiggly raw things, like sea urchin gonads, and huge fucking oysters, and even raw sea scallops, okay, are they trying for a female Tony Bourdain thing??? Or what?! It's just too scattered, it's too derivative, of Tony's show, clearly. Whose idea was it? Perhaps I need to research it, find out who's producing it, how much influence Ruth has on the outcome. Is this a series? I don't know if I can watch another one. I'm surprised I made it through the one. Maybe I just prefer her in print?? I don't get it. I can watch Tony Bourdain eat raw squiggly things all day long, but Ruth? I just wasn't into her. And I'm sure she's a very nice person, great to be around, great person to go out eating raw squiggly things with, but somehow, the artsy fartsy camera shots, the closeups of her with her own voiceovers, her lips moving as she talks, then just a big smile, and she's still talking, it just irked me. A damn shame too, because that show would be made for me, if it were only� good? Gotta edit and run. Cost of the War in Iraq
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