Caterwauling

I love letters to the editor, even if they are telling me that I am a freak who is in favor of child molestation (which I am not) and that I am too sympathetic toward sex offenders (again, which I am not).

The common thread (other than insanity, fingerpointing and whining) among the 10 letters I received was a complaint that I didn’t get a professional rebuttal that was specific to the interviewee’s personal statements (I suppose they’re right, although I do submit the excuse that I wrote the story on furlough days; therefore, it was unpaid time, so they’re lucky they had a story to read. LOL). But the beauty of the vicious and twisted viewpoints these “professionals” presented was that they have just provided the balance they sought. Wonderful. Happy now?

Word to the wise: if you ever write a letter to the editor, kindly do NOT use the editor’s name in every sentence. Especially when it’s a two-page fax that I’m going to have to type in anyway. Really — I like my name, and I hate hearing you use it, especially when you rant for two pages but fail to make any real point.

And this “Have a nice day!” shit at the end of your rant — really, a woman sent in an exhaustive but fairly intelligent argument, but when she ended her letter with that, well, she lost my respect and attention. Quit while you’re ahead, friends. That’s all I’m askin’ here.

Now that everyone’s had a chance to say their peace … can’t we all just get along? Finally?!?!

Subtitle: Hark, hear my screams

First of all, a warm welcome to visitors who come via Dave Copeland, a fellow journalist and Pittsburgher. The link he referred you guys to was this one, although you might also enjoy this pic, sent to me from another Pittsburgh (Fox Chapel) expatriate who’s enjoying life in Ireland these days!

I neglected to mention in yesterday’s post, when the kitties found the condom under my bed, that Kadi managed to bite straight through the wrapper. She hasn’t died (damn it all anyway!), so it’s safe to say that condoms make good toys for cats AND pussies! 😉

Spent the day at the print shop and also wandering around Springfield Mall. Things went OK with the paper this month, give or take enough arguments with influentials to choke a fucking horse. I may get some shit because I printed a candid thumbnail of one of our presidential candidates. (It’s a no-no to give them any press after their candidacy is announced, but King Kumquat has ordained that I must give press to Evil Bitch, who is running, so I figured I would quietly promote the candidate that I personally favor. Muahaha. I might as well get the fan ready for when he sees the paper tomorrow. …)

I am already so motherfucking SICK of holiday music already! I went shopping for something cheap for Shan’s birthday (which was Saturday), and every miserable store was playing the same crap that the last store was playing. Hark, hear my screams, I tell ya. One more month of this aural torture to go … will I make it without ripping the beard off a fake Santa or breaking an antler off a reindeer and sticking it up the ass of a small, screaming child? The sounds of the season are more frightening than the theme music to the “Friday the 13th” series!

In personal news, I finally got the missing part to my gas grill, and I made filet mignons and hot dogs tonight (food for the week, friends — payday isn’t till Friday). Too bad I didn’t have the grill part for, oh, my housewarming party, when I had to buy a fucking grill especially for that occasion. But I’ll give my little charcoal wonder to my neighbor/colleague, RC, whom I have kind of been taking care of in little ways (i.e., sending groceries and/or cooking meals and taking a plate down to her). Maybe I’ll clean it out and buy some charcoal and some utensils at the dollars store and make kind of an early holiday gift out of it. She’s one of those people who’s really grateful for anything you do to help, so I know she’ll love it (I just hope she doesn’t call seven times to thank me, like she did when I bought her groceries last month — a single thank-you is wonderful, but I prefer to do nice things because I want to, not because I desire recognition).

Actually, RC is another Pittsburgh (Mount Lebanon) expatriate (what the hell is it with D.C.? I can’t believe how many of us have defected to this area!), so it was neat to have that bond during our first conversation. And even Clyde and Gisele at the print shop lived and/or have family in my old stomping grounds. Funny how we all stick together down here, even though not a one of us has a desire to go back there to live anytime soon (if at all).

In any event, if you’re like me and happen to be shopping for Pittsburghers this holiday season, then I have to refer you to Dave C.’s list of Pittsburgh Barbies, for that pesky yinzer on your shopping list. Enjoy!

Home sweet home

I was the oddball at work who couldn’t wait to travel to see my relatives, and probably, I’ll be the oddball again at Christmas who will look forward to the trip as well.

I loved being in Pittsburgh — I really miss it when I’m gone. Even though I choose not to live there (now, and maybe never), it will always be home to me.

The hardest part of the trip is always saying goodbye to my mom and grandfather. They are both incredible people, and I wouldn’t be who I am today without their influence. I miss them desperately, and I haven’t even been gone 24 hours!

Mom did her usual lavish holiday feast. Two words: Stuffing. Balls. Oh my god, I miss those — Mom makes the best stuffing on the planet. As far as the rest of the meal (like I needed anything else!), she got the turkey from Honeybaked Ham (yum!) and made my favorite: greenbean casserole. She did some kind of sweet potato souffle, too, with crushed pecans, and it was divine. That’s my mom — always trying new stuff! She made a pumpkin cheesecake, too, but loaded us full of treats from the Oakmont Bakery, including cookies, a white raspberry torte and the Oakmonter, which is cheesecake on the bottom, a layer of fudge in the middle, chocolate cake on top, and whipped light chocolate icing drizzed with fudge. You know, I took some of my looser clothes for a reason, and they were ridiculously tight after eating all that fabulous food!

What sucks, though, is living so far away that she doesn’t pack leftovers for me to take home. 🙁 But she sent homemade banana bread home for Shawn and for me, so I’ll forgive her. 😉

Hotel sweet hotel

I grabbed a hotel room at the Sheraton Station Square, which was decent if not cramped and dismal. We had a stunning view of the hotel lobby, the way the windows were set up — I should’ve asked for a riverside view, but whatever — it’s not like we were in the room all that much!

My only real problem with the hotel (aside from drunken neighbors on Friday night) was that, when the cats were sniffing around the room and getting used to it, they unearthed a condom (still in the package) and were playing with it. Ewww. Doesn’t the staff clean under the beds?

Other than the ridiculous cost of hotel parking, I enjoyed staying at the Sheraton (I actually used to live right above it on Mt. Washington, way back in the day). On Friday night, we wandered next door, to Bar Louie and the Hard Rock Cafe for drinks, and I realized how many hot straight boys are in that city. Yum! So while the hotel didn’t have much to offer in the way of scenery, the bars sure did!

Station Square has developed so much in the past few years. I actually worked there for four years in a jewelry store and a now-defunct hot sauce store. The beauty of that complex, though, was that it was a conglomeration of small businesses — the shops were unique and independently owned, and it was a neat little place to find goods that your local mall didn’t have. But with the proliferation of the bars and a variety of chain stores, it lost a lot of its charm. But it needed to get venues that make money in order to keep it viable, so yay capitalism, right? 🙂

Pegasus sweet Pegasus

Shawn and I made our annual voyage to Pegasus, where we ran into, of all people, Frumper. I went to high school with Frumper, and to say things ended badly would be the understatement of 2003. And even though we never even spoke or, for that matter, looked directly at each other, he followed us around, no matter where we went. He was being all loud and swishy and obnoxious, just like I remember him. At first, Shawn didn’t think he was purposely trailing us, but after we left the over-21 area and went down to the dance floor, Frumper managed to wander past us about half a dozen times within a half hour. Loser.

I was surprised that he was the only person I ran into during the trip — I really don’t cross paths with anyone anymore. Hell, when I lived in the city, I was always running into old friends (and rivals). But now, that just makes the trips better, that I can go out and not have to make nice with people I haven’t seen in ages.

Winter fucking sweet winter

On Friday night, there was this huge call for snow in Southwestern Pennsylvania. No big deal for Pittsburgh — they were only expected to acquire one to two inches of it. But the forecasters were calling for up to six inches of snow in the mountains, which we travel through, so in the event we needed to make a quick getaway on Saturday morning, we brought the cats into the hotel with us (they had stayed with Mom on Thursday night). It was pretty easy to sneak them in, even though the hotel lobby is so dead, you can hear a mouse fart. But the girls were quiet — Maddie was in Shawn’s duffel bag, and Kadi (cage and all) were in my suitcase. We hauled their pudgy asses up the steps to the second floor, where we caught the freight elevator, and they were pretty good most of the night. We literally sauntered past the bellhop on Saturday with the cages in plain sight, and nobody stopped us. Operation Puss Drop was completed without incident. 🙂

Apartment sweet apartment

The girls are happy to be home now, what with practically living in their cages for two days. I guess I’m glad to be home, too, but I do wish I were physically closer to my family. I’m debating just taking Amtrak up there next time around and leaving the pusses at home by themselves for a few days, because I hate highway driving, and those two don’t like it any more than I do. 🙂

I spent the morning cleaning my kitchen and bathroom. And by cleaning, I mean scrubbing the hell out of them. I cleaned before I left so that I could come home to a welcoming place, but I felt the need to scrub today. Mom gave me a housewarming gift of a pretty basket filled with green and maroon rugs and towels and potholders and little fruit characters (fruits are on the fabric, and the little characters have joints and sit where you put them), which I wasn’t real sure about when I saw it (you understand, I’m always waiting for Mom to officially lose her mind — I thought she had flipped her lid for good this time with all the fruit stuff, when she knows I decorate in black and blue!), but now that it’s displayed, it looks cute. *whew* Everything coordinates so well (and she bought me a case of paper towels to match, but I’ll have to get those next trip), and I like coordination more than anything, so rock on Mom! And it’s like having a little bit of her here, and I’ll take what I can get, till I get to see her again. 🙂

I’ll blog later — just got back to D.C. Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday!

Quote of the day: “There is no escape but death, which is probably imminent afterward but doesn’t solve our problem in the interim.” — Shannon, when I asked how we can escape the Veggie Patch Holiday Potluck on Dec. 12.

Leaving for Pittsburgh first thing in the a.m. with Shawn and two four-pawed creatures who hate car trips. Shawn has offered to chauffeur, and I accept that willingly. Holiday drivers are worse than normal drivers, surprisingly (and here, I just thought everyone was nuts on the highways — they were a special brand of insane today).

I went to the print shop at 7ish tonight — normally, they call around 10 a.m. And most of the pages weren’t even ready to be viewed yet. And of course, it figures that there were errors on the 28-page special section — nothing on our end, just a gradient screen on each page that disappeared. It happens all the time; the pressman tonight said he couldn’t fix it, but I told him my regular guy had better will know what to do.

One thing I am looking forward to, being in Pennsylvania, will be being waited on by people who speak English. Apparently, having your cashier/neighbor/server/bank teller being able to effectively communicate with you is overrated. Shit, I went to SunTrust today to get a cashier’s check for my rent (so I don’t bounce yet another fucking check), and she was all bada-badaing all over the place. I actually had to ask her to write down what the fuck she was saying — maybe it was her accent that was throwing me off. But no, she wrote some type of Sanskrit or Esperanto or something, and I was lost.

And I’m already at the end of my rope as far as nerves and patience go. What she was trying to communicate, I figured out eventually, was that there is an $8 service fee for the cashier’s check. I said fine. So she tries to re-explain it. I said, “Hey look, I am well aware that the SunTrust empire charges me for every damn thing I need from it. Between your ridiculously high charges for Insufficient Funds, which I am altogether too familiar with, I am willing to accept this $8 charge to hand me a piece of paper … not that I am thrilled about it, mind you.” (Erica will be glad to tell you about her similar opinion on NSF charges!)

So Bank Lady bada-badaed under her breath and kept on typing. I handed her my driver’s license so she could spell my name correctly on the check, and then she asked if the name on the driver’s license was the one that should appear on the check. *sigh* Not that I understood her the first three times she inquired.

People in Pittsburgh may have their own lazy, fucked-up dialect, but I look forward to being UNDERSTOOD and serviced in a timely manner. Factoring out the fact that I was in line forever, the teller transaction that cost me $8 lasted a good 20 minutes. Shouldn’t, though, they pay ME for my time?!?!

Mom and I already had our first tiff of the holiday season on the phone today, so it’s looking like Thanksgiving is off to its usual running start. What was the argument about? She asked what kind of wine/pop/whatever I want to drink, and I said, “It doesn’t matter.” So she asked me why I can never make things easy on her, and I told her that I will drink whatever she fucking puts in front of me.

Our relationship is really good, actually. It’s just holidays that bring out the very worst in us. I am just hoping that this isn’t a rushed trip — that we actually have time to hang out and enjoy each other. Because the second a schedule is involved, tensions shoot up to the moon (on both of our parts).

Bleah.

At any rate, Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good shit afterward so you have room for turkey sandwiches later on in the evening! Or, if you’re like Shawn and me, be cleaned out so that you can go out drinking to forget about your holiday. Pegasus, here we come!!!

I’ve been doing laundry for the past few hours, but only washing. Some dumbass claimed the two dryers for the better part of today, and she left her shit in there until I finally got mad and emptied one of the machines. I don’t dry most of my clothes, but I had a pile of jeans and bathroom rugs waiting for a tumble.

The bitch finally came to get her laundry as I was loading my dryer. (I had very nicely piled her shit in the laundry tub she’d left in there.) She touched the stuff and complained that it was still wet. What the hell? Did she think I’d run them through another cycle for her? Wasn’t it bad enough I waited TWO HOURS for her before I finally got pissed off enough to claim the dryer for myself?

Then, after snapping at me, she actually held the door for me so I could exit with my freshly dried pile of denim. I wanted to tell her not to do me any fucking favors, but I graciously thanked her and wandered upstairs.

What bugs me the most is that she’s in the apartment right next to the laundry room — like she couldn’t have waddled her ass over there sooner. Dipshit. I hate neighbors.

Quote of the night:“He’s neurotic; he’s needy. He’s like everyone I date.” — Thom, on “Queer Eye.”

I’m much more relaxed than I was an hour ago. I forgot to mention the most important part of production night — little Alex stopped by! Shan and John brought her by to meet Angie and Scot, and of course to let Aunt Dawn hold her. I didn’t want to let her go — she just gets cuter every day. Not to mention, she’s three times bigger than when she was born — she’s at a healthy 12 pounds now! woo hoo! I used to be able to hold her with one hand, then one arm. Now she fills up both arms — it’s just amazing, how much she’s overcome to be so strong today.

Seriously, this kid is so ridiculously adorable that it almost made me want one of my own. Almost, of course! 😉

I didn’t have all that much to do at work today, so I thought I’d be able skate out around 2 p.m.

So now, at nearly 10 p.m., I am finally home from work. *growl*

I am SO not in a good mood about this.

The paper goes to bed today and I have a migraine. Expecting coherence? You’ll never find it here, especially not today. 😉

But I bought more bandwidth, so enjoy some tunes/mixes. As for me, it’s back to my dear friend Quark Xpress!!

Where You Are

Elmo

Time After Time

Poison (a nice dance mix of Alice Cooper’s mid-’80s hit)

Losing My Religion

Boys of Summer

Give Me Tonight

I made a funny last night. Well, it’s not funny so much as true, but I realized that I’d have a better chance of getting on a waiting list for a kidney (and getting said internal organ) than finding a functional relationship.