Caterwauling

“I get to go home in one week
But I’m leaving home in three weeks
They throw me a bone just to pick me dry.”

— Stone Sour, “Zzyzx Rd”

I’m still adjusting to Eastern time and trying to not sleep just because my body tells me to. And if it ain’t my body telling me to grab a nap, then it’s the wild winter concoction of cold meds that’s knocking me out when I have to do a week’s worth of work in two days. Holiday? What holiday? I still haven’t even had a weekend!

I’m hoping a blog break will make me feel better, but I doubt it. I’ve been blogging in my head for a week straight. I could have gotten on the Internet, but uninstalling/reinstalling drivers on my craptop every time I changed IPs was fairly low priority. Life’s been full-speed ahead and I’ve been loving it, and this coming-home bullshit sort of sucks to no end.

If I could be anywhere right now, it would be on the Beach Level of Mandalay Bay. I’d be bouncing between the hot pool, the eucalyptus steam room and the redwood sauna. I’d be snacking on cashews and having hot orange tea with half-and-half, which tasted like a warm creamsicle, watching CNN and loving the fact that no one on earth knew where I was or how to get to me.

Since everyone’s asking, the boy. Ha. Oh my. I sort of went to Vegas this time with the mindset that I was bound and determined to meet someone — hookup, overnighter, whatever — and let me tell you, that universe? Is listening.

Not to say I did any of the above (and I wouldn’t say if I had), but perhaps I shall be a bit more specific next time I make a request.

You wonder about these men sometimes. I mean, they’re cute if they don’t have a lot of game, because that means they are either nervous or don’t do this all the time. I want them to have game, though, but I get suspicious when they have too much. This one? Not an ounce. But funny. Very, very funny.

I was out there at a convention (the town was full of Democrats. Yay!), so I was sort of annoyed that with all the men of class and money out there, I get picked up by the damn security guard. LOL.

NOT ONLY IS GOD A WOMAN,
BUT SHE’S ALSO A COMEDY WRITER.
WITH PMS.

So we were talking here and there during my stay, and he was trying to gauge my interest. So in front of my friend, he asks me, “Do you like chocolate syrup?”

And I’m thinking, the hell? Are we making sundaes? So I said sure. But then Gameless in Vegas said he loves his momma and his sister, but he really prefers “white meat.”

My friend was just shaking her head, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into.

So he goes on to ask what time I get off. I said, in textbook fashion, “Well, that’s largely dependent on you, is it not?”

This goes on for days. I finally gave him my business card (he begged) because my badge sort of had my name and company, oh, emblazoned on it.

And once he got the information, he proceeded to give me his whole life story. And he said he is never fortunate enough to get women like me — he always gets the wild, weird and fucked-up Vegas-types. And THEN I had to hear about his dead ex-wife, their three kids, his baby momma and their daughter.

At which point I told him to give me back my card.

(I wasn’t kidding.)

The worst part of it was when he asked what I thought about dating younger men. Now, I could look at him and tell I was younger, so I really didn’t understand that line of discussion. (This was prior to the four kids disclosure.) And yeah, younger men? I’ve got a collection of ‘em that I’m proud to show off. But I told him if he thinks he’s younger, there’s no way in hell he’s going to be right.

Yeah, he’s five years older than me. So I said some pickup line — telling me he thinks I’m older than I am!

He just called — he swears he’s coming to D.C. someday soon. But I’ll probably see him next time I’m in Vegas, although I took myself off the circuit for awhile to give someone else a chance to go to the desert. Besides, I’d much rather meet a local boy next. (Hear that universe? LOCAL BOY. One with a good income so I can become a kept woman and stop this “working for a living” shit.)

Anyway, back to the digital salt mines. And while I’m asking the universe for some good fortune, if I can dream about these projects being done, will they get done?

It’s been a whirlwind week here on the scenic South Strip of Las Vegas. So much to report, so little inclination to share the comedic wonder that is my life. I have to do some quick work and attempt to sleep before a flight leaving at the crack o’ me, so greetings and salutations and adios and sayonara all at the same time.

Executive Summary:

1. Met a boy.
2. Saw Zumanity.
3. Bought Zumanity panties.
4. Ate lots of five-star cuisine.
5. Put in some significant spa time.
6. Didn’t gamble.
7. But learned how to play craps.
8. Have been snarfed/barfed on a million times and now I’m sick. Yarr.
9. Who the fuck cares about anything else? Didn’t you see in No. 1 that I met a boy??!?!

All right, be good until Hurricane Goddess blows back into town. Kisses!

So there’s this attractive guy at church. I’ve seen him around — he’s always dressed impeccably and even expensively. I’ve never really made it a point to talk to him or anything like that because, well, I am a girl who appreciates the scenery but am not much on the interaction thing.

They make us stand at the beginning of services and turn around to greet each other. It’s sweet and obnoxious all at the same time. Except … I realized that I was sitting behind Mr. Well-Dressed yesterday and the first person HE moved to greet was ME!

*slight swoon*

And I know it was only a five-second interaction, but I had one of those weird revelations. Here I was thinking he was all unapproachable and good-looking and he would never talk to (say it with me, girls) “someone like me.” Weirder still, after we exchanged pleasantries, my inner voice went, “Meh.”

Yep, the dude I was so jazzed to meet? Sort of wooden, in a hollow kind of way.

Yes, I know it was only a quick interaction. I’m sure he’s got an IQ to match mine or at least a bank account to mask mine.

But it was one of those moments that I thought, wow, I don’t always think that highly of myself. But then there’s this untouchable type and I realized, shit, I have 10 times the amount of personality. He might be pretty to look at, but I’m probably way more fun to hang out with!

I don’t mean to sound mean-spirited. Quite the contrary — I’m taking a moment to pay myself a compliment. Lately, I’m so afraid of being turned down, and I don’t really know why, because it’s pointless to think of someone else as “better” than you. Different, sure, but that’s about it.

And yes, maybe Mr. Well-Dressed is just shy or perhaps not an easy conversationalist like I usually am. (Or, for that matter, as easy as I am. Ha!)

Anywho, I guess this blinding flash of the obvious was an eye-opener for me, that if we all just look at each other (and ourselves) as humans just looking for someone to “get” them and appreciate them for a moment, we’re really not so different after all. …

Ah, the witticisms are flying.

“Have a nice day.”

“I was until you called!”

Goddess is at home in bed right now, napping under her fluffy winter comforter from IKEA that is designed for the coldest months.

The body of Goddess, however, has had “a day” so far and it’s one that ain’t over yet. Far from it.

It’s “good” busy, though. I am leaving town in short order, and guess who is flying one day but whose hotel stay doesn’t begin till the next day? Yep. And who was told that her hotel for the unplanned night would cost $499? Ha!

I went to my travel agent and got alternate accommodations for the first night, and now I’m paying over $200 for Teh Cheese. It was either Teh Cheese or Bubble Gum Vomitorium, which had a little too much of Teh Pink for my tastes. *barf* I can’t WAIT to take photos and talk about what an experience it was, which means I will probably fall in love with it.

In good news, my Amazon.com order just arrived, as I bought some shit for ze trip and will now have auditory joy on ze plane. Yay for imports!

Hmm, 4:30 p.m. and I still haven’t started today’s newsletter, last week’s report, two weeks ago’s slideshow and today’s Web site. Guess I know where I’ll be for the next dozen hours. …

Wanted to wish a belated happy birthday to Tiff, whom we actively celebrated on Saturday but who we always mentally celebrate every other day.

The quote of the day from that gathering: “Sit down and enjoy your birthday next to the brown man!” LOL.

I also wanted to take this moment to celebrate all the veterans and soldiers on active duty on this Veteran’s Day. Here’s to hoping they can all get private insurance, because otherwise the Veterans Hospitals will finish the job that the wars started.

Here’s to remembering my own fallen veteran today, who triumphed over Hitler’s men but couldn’t survive the ineptitude of some horse-faced cunt named “Dr.” (ha!) Trang at the Veterans Hospital in Aspinwall, Pa. It’s been a rotten year without you, buddy. I miss you.

I have to laugh when my Jewish friends like to read my blog after I attend Christian services, but here goes nothing, as usual.

I wasn’t impressed with the service today, but that would be because I sat in the back row and I STILL had a kid kicking the back of my seat. Seriously. Someone didn’t drop their lil hellions in the playroom and I got stuck with three kids either crawling over our legs in an attempt to get from one aisle to the next, breathing over my shoulder/whispering to siblings or, like I said, kicking my chair.

And I realized I have a loooonnng way to go in becoming as good a child of God as I’m supposed to be. Because I cannot control my anger enough to not picture beating them over the head with a bible and hissing, “Quiet, for Christ’s sake!”

Perhaps it is, in fact, God’s plan that I do not have any children and will not for the foreseeable future!

Anyway, today’s moral to the story was greater than the message intended to illustrate it was, which was basically that our role is to become a person of impact. And that we all have the talent to do it, so we should be examining how to make our lives purposeful.

The pastor told a story about a man who saved a girl from drowning, and he got an award from the U.S. Coast Guard for it. But the funny part was that the award was never before given to someone who didn’t know how to swim.

Now that was worth the price of admission right there.

Personally, I have someone looking at me and wanting me to fix everything, and I am so FRUSTRATED because I cannot even solve my own fucking problems, let alone find the time and strength to deal with others’ shit that the should be resourceful enough to handle. I look at their problems as not necessarily trivial, but surmountable.

And if I can be making steps toward solving the clusterfuck of a labyrinth that I always seem to find myself wandering around in, why the fuck can’t they handle their own goddamned load? Furthermore, who are they to question us and the decisions we do/don’t make about our own shit when they’re looking at “inertia” as a choice?

I hate this “good Christian” shit. I am so annoyed at the obligations that are put upon us that drain resources away from what we really want to be doing and how we want to be doing it. If we even have time to remember what that was, quite honestly, as I forget what I wanted to do to change the world. I feel like I’m the one who’s drowning and yet hauling ass to pull others ashore and I don’t even know how to swim, either.

But if I stop, does the whole world have to stop, too? Doesn’t anyone take turns trying to get to dry land?

But perhaps the greater message today was that your first purpose on this earth is to behave as a good son or daughter of God. Feel however you want about your life’s predicaments, but do the right thing when it comes down to it because you never know how many more chances you’ll get to not fuck up.

I feel like we all waste those chances, but breaking out of that pattern is perhaps the biggest challenge of my young life so far. I guess I just hope that once I do get on dry land — and I WILL — there’ll be a change of clothes and something else that was worth swimming toward. …

Considering that the cat shit in my shoes this morning and I had to roll up my pants and clean poo off my legs, toes, feet and a multicolor rug that she left a very-stinky yet colorless streak on, the day hasn’t turned out too badly.

But the problem with wishing for the day to just end already means that you’re just leaving more work for another day. And considering that I only have a couple of days left on some big deadlines, I’m not wont to wish away this workday because this is going to hang over my head all weekend and into next week.

Not much else to say other than that the holiday season is here and I am not looking forward to it. Not one bit. There’s officially no reason left to celebrate. I’d be happy if the whole season would just forget to happen. And hell, since Wal-Mart started discounting its Christmas items before Halloween even hit, it might just pass by unnoticed. I hope so, anyway.

It’s weird — I’m not unhappy. I just don’t feel that I’m overly happy. though. I’ve got my joy intact — I’m just not overjoyed.

I notice with some folks, they have incredible focus, and I envy them that. I know people who work hard and play hard and don’t let the two overlap. I work hard when inspiration strikes (my job has become a very creative one and that means sometimes packing up for the day without one real, tangible piece of output) but I obsess over things I didn’t manage to do when it comes to playtime. And because playtime isn’t balls-out enjoyable, I feel blah when I’m supposed to be focusing on the important things.

So, I’m going to come up with five things that make me happy, and I’m going to do all of them this weekend. Maybe I’ll even throw in one or two things I’ve never done before, just to shake things up. And I’m going to focus on those moments and thoroughly enjoy them even if it kills me.