Caterwauling

After yet another long, unfulfilling day at the Veggie Patch (and yes, I just got home), there was not a single parking spot to be found in the entire fucking apartment complex. I filled up the rental company’s voice mail with vitriol and made plenty sure to bitch that the library parking lot around the corner has signs up that forbid overnight parking. So where do I park? Bumfuck Egypt. I told them I’m tired, it’s fucking freezing and I’d really like to know if they tow at midnight, like they claim to, ’cause there sure ain’t enough parking for me. And that’s the shit of it all — some families have up to four cars, and I can’t even get one lousy little fucking space for just me.

Spent half an hour wandering around the print shop — seems I arrived after the pre-press night shift went home, and not a goddamn person seemed to know what to do with my print order and film negs. Finally, a kind soul offered to take it to post-press. And of course, he and another woman had to wander with us to get us through the uber-secure building. I think I am going to ask Customer Care to get me a goddamn security card so I can roam freely and drop my shit off when I get there.

Yeah, I get really fucking cranky when I’m tired. 🙂

And thanks for the e-mails/comments asking me if Gandhi at the Payless in Springfield Mall got any kind of reprimand for sexually harassing me. I haven’t heard a word from that company. They have lost a customer for life — I will return to buying my shoes at Marshall’s or on sale at the *finer* shoe retail establishments. Or, maybe I’ll just go in my closet and wear one of the 150 pairs I already own!!!

I ordered one lousy CD from Amazon — and it arrived today in a box so big I could pack my friggin G4 Tower in it. It’s just a shame how we get ripped for shipping — the box was full of airbags. If I wanted to see an airbag, I’d just go meet with my supervisor!

Go see my kids. They’re adorable. 🙂

Subtitle: Fucknuggets gone amok!

Oh, where do I even BEGIN to talk about the complete stupidity I have encountered today?

It started off with an e-mail from Cruise Director, asking me to please juggle the layout to run an important letter to the editor that just arrived last night. No big deal — all I have to do is cut a letter that already made it into the layout and just keep it till next month.

But then, an e-mail arrives from my idiot supervisor who has not a god damn thing better to do. It arrives with the big red priority flag on it, and it reads:

Dawn,

 

(Cruise Director) didn’t put the exclamation point next to this to let you know it is important.  See what you can do, please.

 

(Pussy Demure)

I must have laughed for a good 40 minutes. Really, it wasn’t funny — just pathetic how ridiculously seriously she took her role in this. I mean, shit, it’s not like I would ignore an e-mail from the head of our organization, for cripes’ sake. I mean, when you get an e-mail from him, you know it’s important. He doesn’t need a fucking exclamation point next to his name, does he now?

Of course, other things happened during the day to test our sense of humor, not limited to the fact that Town Crier, pissed off about the lack of access to the second-floor restrooms, sent a scathing memo to Cruise Director, who, in turn, went nuts on CFO, who went nuts on the gal here in charge. The gal here has been harassing the workers five times a day to get their asses in here and finish their damn job. In fact, she has promised us that she will go in tomorrow and clean it herself if the workers don’t come back. Y’know, it’s not like it’s say, the elevator, that’s inaccessible. Fuckmonkey.

But then even more stupidity occurred when the Queen Pooper (and High Priestess of Toilet Town) got mad at the 17 strips of masking tape barricading the door to the ladies’ room (it looks like a British flag), so she ripped them all down and went in there to take a shit. Like she couldn’t fucking walk up or down one motherfucking flight of steps — or take the elevator. Assnugget.

And this doesn’t even begin to cover all the dildos on ice who have been bugging me about the delicious-looking King Cake that our beloved Tricia sent my way. I was saving it for my first-ever full-staff meeting (my worker in Indianapolis was in today for production day). During the past few days, I have gotten at least a dozen and a half inquiries about when I planned to cut the cake and whether I’d give them a piece. I even had one fucktard yesterday ask if I’d cut it, and I said no, so he opened the goddamn UPS box just to check it out and make sure I wasn’t lying to him. I wanted to castrate him.

The cake was fabulous, BTW (nods to Tricia). My gal in from Indy got the baby in the cake, so she is happy to buy the cake again next year, so long as she doesn’t actually have to have a baby!

We’ve finally crowned the Mayor of Toilet Town at work.

And the winner is … Town Crier!!!

Despite having to limbo beneath layers of masking tape to get into our filthy restrooms that haven’t been worked on in at least a week, Town Crier decided to go in and do her thang. When she came out, she ran into Shan, who had to stifle a giggle when Town Crier said, “Damn — I almost had a strip of masking tape stuck to my head like someone running across a finish line!”

*roflmfao* Oh, the tears of laughter I cried when I heard that!!! Dumb bitch!

So I was at Sears this weekend, picking up some phenomenally cheap clothes during their awesome holiday sale, and I almost murdered a woman in line.

Well, that was the problem — she wasn’t in line. The way the desks are set up, there are two cashiers working. So the rest of us form a single line and go to the next available clerk. Rocket science, apparently, to the unwashed masses in Alexandria, Va.

I was in line for about 15 minutes, and finally, I was at the head of the line. Both cashiers were busy. Then some dumb bitch with frizzy hair decides to stand at the desk right behind the lady being rung up — three feet in front of me. I was debating how I would inflict death upon her if she actually thought she would get waited on before me.

Finally, that clerk was free, and I started to walk up to her. Frizzy-Haired Bitch looked mortified as I put my stuff down on the counter. “I was next!” she wailed. “Um, no you weren’t,” I informed her; meanwhile, she stood there debating her purchase — she had grabbed two sizes of the same thing and was clearly incapable of picking one. However, she did manage to wail, “I was SO! I was standing here and you WEREN’T!”

Nyah nyah — did this invoke fourth-grade recess lines, anyone? The cashier was too meek to help me out, but she was interested in what I was going to say. I said, “Look, bitch — the line’s back there. Get some fucking manners.” She said, “WHAT?!?!” and I handed my credit card to the cashier, as she rang up my two items quickly and efficiently. And when I left, Frizzy Bitch jumped out of line again and got the same cashier, and I could hear her STILL debating which item to purchase as I bolted out of there, as if the cashier could really tell her which one to pick. Fucktard.

Some days, I think the mental institutions let all of their patients out for the day. And usually, it’s the day I am at the mall.

Some humor for my techie (and tech-support!) friends, courtesy of Leslie.

ABBOT: Super Duper computer store. Can I help you?

COSTELLO: Thanks. I’m setting up an office in my den, and I’m thinking about buying a computer.

ABBOT: Mac?

COSTELLO: No, the names Lou.

ABBOT: Your computer?

COSTELLO: I don’t own a computer. I want to buy one.

ABBOT: Mac?

COSTELLO: I told you, my names Lou.

ABBOT: What about Windows?

COSTELLO: Why? Will it get stuffy in here?

ABBOT: Do you want a computer with Windows?

COSTELLO: I don’t know. What will I see when I look in the windows?

ABBOT: Wallpaper.

COSTELLO: Never mind the windows. I need a computer and software.

ABBOT: Software for Windows?

COSTELLO: No. On the computer! I need something I can use to write proposals, track expenses and run my business. What have you got?

ABBOT: Office.

COSTELLO: Yeah, for my office. Can you recommend anything?

ABBOT: I just did.

COSTELLO: You just did what?

ABBOT: Recommend something.

COSTELLO: You recommended something?

ABBOT: Yes.

COSTELLO: For my office?

ABBOT: Yes

COSTELLO: OK, what did you recommend for my office?

ABBOT: Office.

COSTELLO:.Yes, for my office!

ABBOT: I recommend Office with Windows.

COSTELLO: I already have an office and it has windows! OK, lets just say, I’m sitting at my computer and I want to type a proposal. What do I need?

ABBOT: Word.

COSTELLO: What word?

ABBOT: Word in Office.

COSTELLO: The only word in office is office.

ABBOT: The Word in Office for Windows.

COSTELLO: Which word in office for windows?

ABBOT: The Word you get when you click the blue w.

COSTELLO: I’m going to click your blue w if you don’t start with some straight answers. OK, forget that. Can I watch movies on the Internet?

ABBOT: Yes, you want RealOne.

COSTELLO: Maybe a real one, maybe a cartoon. What I watch is none of your business. just tell me what I need!

ABBOT: RealOne.

COSTELLO: If its a long movie I also want to see reel 2, 3 & 4. Can I watch them?

ABBOT: Of course.

COSTELLO: Great, with what?

ABBOT: RealOne.

COSTELLO; OK, I’m at my computer and I want to watch a movie. What do I do?

ABBOT: You click the blue 1.

COSTELLO: I click the blue one what?

ABBOT: The blue 1.

COSTELLO: Is that different from the blue w?

ABBOT: The blue 1 is Real One and the blue w is Word.

COSTELLO: What word?

ABBOT: The Word in Office for Windows.

COSTELLO: But there’s three words in office for windows!

ABBOT: No, just one. But its the most popular Word in the world.

COSTELLO: It is?

ABBOT: Yes, but to be fair, there aren’t many other Words left. It pretty much wiped out all the other Words out there.

COSTELLO: And that word is real one?

ABBOT: Real One has nothing to do with Word. Real One isn’t even part of Office.

COSTELLO: Stop! Don’t start that again. What about financial bookkeeping — you have anything I can track my money with?

ABBOT: Money.

COSTELLO: That’s right. What do you have?

ABBOT: Money.

COSTELLO: I need money to track my money?

ABBOT: It comes bundled with your computer.

COSTELLO: What’s bundled to my computer?

ABBOT: Money.

COSTELLO: Money comes with my computer?

ABBOT: Yes. No extra charge.

COSTELLO: I get a bundle of money with my computer? How much?

ABBOT: One copy.

COSTELLO: Isn’t it illegal to copy money?

ABBOT: Microsoft gave us a license to copy Money.

COSTELLO: They can give you a license to copy money?

ABBOT: Why not, they own it.

I’m exhausted. Really. I did post last night, but it’s still in draft mode and will probably stay there till the end of time. 🙂 Have loads of editing on the magazine to do, but right now, I’m feeling the effects of a major case of insomnia last night, and my patience and energy are limited. My boss asked me a stupid question this morning, and I held up my thumb and forefinger and said, “I have exactly this much patience today; I plan to expend it wisely.” Meaning, don’t waste my tiime with the usual inanities.

Had to park in BFE last night — I got home around 10:30, and I had to park over at the Safeway in the neighboring plaza — between one car with a window busted out and covered with a trash bag and the other with a mosaic-style cracked windshield. I don’t pray much, but I said a prayer as I left my little Samantha shivering between the two scary cars.

So “The L Word” premiered tonight. What does it stand for, you ask? Hmm. Labia. Lust. Longing. Licking. Lots of soft porn. But in the case of the inaugural episode, I’ll say it stands for Long.

And before you even ask, I’ve already reserved my copy of Melissa Etheridge’s “Lucky”.

Spoiler alert!

I had high hopes for the show, and I did enjoy the debut. I will definitely tune in for future episodes. But one L word — lifelike — is not one that I would use for some of the scenes.

Shawn watched the first hour with me but skipped out on the last 35 minutes, which was a shame, ’cause that’s when it really started to get good. They saved all the girl-girl sex scenes for the last few minutes. But the early part of the show was devoted to hetero sex — not that I have any problem with that, mind you, but it seemed really weird on a show that the L.A. Times dubbed, “”Imagine the women of ‘Sex and the City’ sleeping with each other. …”

Well, that’s really impossible, because it’s not LOL-funny like SATC, but it’s got its own merits. Shawn and I were just shocked how unreal the sole “straight” couple (and I use that term loosely) were — after a party at the home of Bette and Tina (who are planning to have a baby together), token straight girl Jenny gets kissed by the ridiculously sexy Marina in the bathroom. Jenny freaks and drags her sorta-cute boy Tim out of a conversation, begging, “Take me home!” Um, dumb bitch, y’all live next door. Walk your scrawny ass over there yourself, mmm-kay?

So he gives up an opportunity to talk to reporters about his glory hole days in the Olympics to take her sniffling ass home. When they get there, she rips open his pants and gives him a blow job. Now if that wasn’t unrealistic enough for you, he pushes her away and says, “Let’s talk!” Um, yeah. Women are just dying to give blow jobs, and men are simply more interested in having a heart-to-heart conversation about why we’re so upset over something that we jerk their dicks outta their pants and start licking it like it’s a melting ice cream cone in the desert. Like Dr. Phil likes to say, “Get real!”

Like our soon-to-be-retiring (and in my case beloved) sitcom “Friends,” they all hang out at a coffee shop, Planet, which happened to be owned by Marina. And Jenny just happens to stop by there every day (girl, what was WITH your hair that first day you stopped by? It looked like you slapped a hairnet over a weave. Wash your fucking hair before a shoot!). So she clearly wasn’t all that wigged (ha, I slay me!) out over playing tongue twister with a hot chick.

Of course, I wasn’t so cynical for the rest of the show, or I’d have turned the damn thing off. When I first saw the previews, I thought Shane was going to be the character I liked the best, what with her irreverence and proclivity for casual sex. (Let me insert the note that Paul, Bryan, Shawn and I were looking through my old photo albums tonight, and well, it was duly noted that I’d slept with, oh, everyone pictured — and most of them had dated one of my friends beforehand.) But I kind of thought Marina was the hottest, at least tonight — she was waxing poetic about literature, and admittedly, my mind is my “real” G-spot, so I strangely found myself mesmerized by her mouth while she talked.

(OK, the raving bisexual in me is coming out tonight.)

We laughed heartily, though, when the gay dads’ group strolled by, with their babies strapped securely in Snuglis for their weekly walk together. It was just cute, not to mention a desperately needed humor break.

I do look forward to the continued development of the characters. Jenny was an obvious first choice for the focus of the pilot episode — the naive girl who comes out to big, bad L.A. to be with her sweetheart (who proposes at the end of the episode, the morning after she slept with Marina). Jenny was compelling and believable, but a touch on the whiny side. I’m certain the next episode will probably pick up more about Bette and Tina’s attempt to become mommies — they had a tangle with slow-swimming sperm, interviewing various men about donating their sperm and finally, taking home a hottie for a threesome in an attempt to get Tina pregnant, which was foiled when the guy broke out a condom.

Showtime offered an online chat session with Jennifer Beals (who plays Bette) immediately following the show, but I tried to log in and was unsuccessful (fuck you for not supporting Mac users!). I think she was the only one whose nipples weren’t shown, and I wanted to ask why she was so friggin’ special. 🙂

In any event, I was turned on by the sex scenes and headed straight to the bedroom for five minutes of fun with the vibrator before trying to log into the chat session. LOL — I have a confession: I rarely masturbate to thoughts of men. I mean, really, my masturbation sessions are longer than most sexual encounters I’ve had with the opposite sex. I really do enjoy dating men, but there’s something about sex between women that will always turn me on. …

I’ve been planning a book series for the past 15 years, since I was 14. It’s Just Another Set of Trashy Fiction Novels. I mean, I don’t expect it to change the world or even to make a blip on The New York Times’ Bestseller List. But it’s something I’ve been wanting, waiting to do.

Now, I never talk about this, so typing this entry feels really strange. I have identified my major challenges to writing this series, and topping the list is my lifelong mistake of talking about something while it’s in development. My problem is that, once I’ve talked about something, it’s as good as having done whatever was on my agenda. And so I drop the subject and, ultimately, the project. But I’ll be vague enough so that I can’t use my typical excuses. 🙂

So yesterday, I wrote my first 15 pages. What stuns me is that they’re not great. But that’s what rounds of editing are for.

At times, it seemed like the writing muse guided my fingers, and I was pleased at how easily I cranked out the words. Of course, I have no fewer than a thousand pages of handwritten and typed notes scattered about the apartment (and I’ve rejected about 70 percent of the ideas in them), so I at least knew the general direction in which I wanted to go.

I view it like writing a news article (something with which I’m altogether too painfully familiar). The secret to any good article is getting the lead graf just right. It’s possible, but not ideal, to write the rest of the article and go back and write the lead. And that’s what I’ve been doing all these years with this series — I’ve written the ending, and I’ve written vignettes throughout the course of the characters’ lives. And they have hit the trash because I never found the main character’s voice until yesterday.

The writing was therapeutic, even if it did point me toward some massive holes and weaknesses in the storyline. I stopped when I got writer’s block — Chapter Five has a notation: Figure this part out later. Skip to next chapter and write from there. Don’t lose the momentum.

It’s hard to be original — everything has been done before. So I did come up with something, if not outrageous, then just a little bit over the top. But that is presenting its own problems in that I really don’t know what I’m talking about, but what else is new? 🙂 So I’ve attempted to make it as much a journey for me as for the main character in figuring out how to react to said situations at hand. Write what you know. Sit back and think about it. The rest will follow.

One of my unresolved struggles is whether to set it in the present or put it back in 1991, when I wanted the story to begin (although the ideas evolved circa 1988). I want to reflect some pop culture and politics here and there, but another part of me doesn’t want to date the story. My favorite novels are not too dated — they could have happened in the 1980s or in the year 2024 — and I can read them again and again and still identify with the narrator, no matter where I am in my life. I like that and wish to emulate that.

At this point, I’m babbling. But I really do feel like something’s missing in the character’s development. At this point, she is embroiled in so much drama and chaos created by other characters that I feel like I’m neglecting her, much like the other characters are. I have her giving a lot of historical information at this point, which of course is needed (it is the exposition, after all). But I struggle with the fact that nothing’s really happening to her. I boil this down to the fact that there is already so much going on that I don’t want the reader to have to pull out a scorecard to keep up. But on the other hand, she is the one who is going to survive this storyline, and I need to get a subplot going to ensure that she does have some distractions. But that’s where I’m getting stuck — she needs to have something really good happen for her, and I don’t know what, because her life is about to take a turn for the worse and she’s going to become an emancipated minor.

Drat.

I was hoping that by typing out loud, some fabulous revelation would hit me. It hasn’t. *kicks computer* I guess I have to take her age into account (16) and remember what was important to me back then (um, sitting in my room, listening to heavy metal cassettes, writing in my journal, planning this book series, sneaking a smoke and a drink here and there, doing well in school, avoiding ridicule and heartache in school, putting up with all the assholes my mom was dating). Hmm. Maybe I can get her mom out of her hair for awhile by introducing yet another character. It’s like both of these ladies are searching for their identities after their lives go into upheaval, and all they want is a little bit of comfort, understanding and acceptance. And isn’t that what we all want?

In any event, the lesson I’ve learned is that I have to use my voice in order for this to work. I can create all the fictional characters I want, but I have to truly fall in love with each and every one of them (and I have). But I feel like I have to understand one more so than the rest — I’m not saying the main character is me, but she is everything I want to be, yet also everything I love and even hate about myself. In a word, she’s irreverent. She’s going to make an impact on her world, but it will be accidental. She’s going to make some bad choices and have to live through the consequences. But she is going to be loved, even if she never fully realizes it. And she’s going to earn every last ounce of success that can possibly come her way. It’s just getting the story to that point that I am struggling with. 🙂