The Boys in the Band

I feel like I'm going to have to learn medical billing, accounting, and how to answer phones in a less gravelly voice in the near future.

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I'm going back on The Diet, and this time I mean it.

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I watched another gay movie on TCM the other night, called The Boys in the Band. I fell asleep a few minutes into it because it was on really late. It was made in 1970 and it consisted of a bunch of gay archetypes living in the Village who called each other 'cunt' a lot. I'm sure it was very cutting edge for it's time. It even showed an ass. Maybe more than one. I can't remember. But I did not allow Jethro to service me afterwards. Gay guys don't do it for me and I'm reasonably sure they don't do it for him either. But it was a good movie, and I hope to be able to finish it someday.

Hmmmmm

Rosie "I-Hate-Guns" O'Donnell's little girl

Hamas "I-Hate-Jews" Terrorist's little girl

Slices of Life

So many exciting things are happening, but they are the most boring things in the world to blog about. I'll try though.

1. My mom isn't getting divorced.

No new daddies. And while this isn't terribly exciting, it is annoying. I don't care whether she divorces Step-dad or not. I just want her to shut the hell up about it already. And I don't want to take care of her when she's old, so I'm kind of hoping she stays with him. He's weird and mean sometimes, but he loves her in his own bizarre way. And she is not trained for any job other than placating bizarre and sometimes mean people.

2. I can't talk much about #2 because it's business related. But it's making me very happy and frightened.

3. One of my sisters has decided she's a Lesbian.

She's not, but everyone is humoring her since she is anticipating persecution and no one wants to be THAT person.

4. Jethro's boss is a psycho.

I know I've talked about it to the point of my own psychosis, but she left a message on Jethro's cell phone last night that was so long, it cut her off. Then she called back to continue saying, "Hmmm....I guess your phone cut out..."

Jethro let me listen to one of her rants one morning on speaker and I'm appalled at what he has to put up with. I would have committed murder months ago.

One of the problems is that she gets very defensive when she loses an employee. The latest front desk girl walked out as soon as she got her last paycheck and took her own bin that she had brought with her. Part of the conversation I heard detailed how selfish Front Desk Girl was for taking back her own bin. According to Dr. Psycho, this meant that Front Desk Girl didn't care about Dr. Psycho's business. Dr. Psycho is the only person I've ever encountered who could marvel at the fact that an low-earning employee wouldn't care about her business for 20 minutes without ceasing. And this is just on the phone. Lord knows how long she goes on about it when he isn't trying to get ready for work...

I'm mildly concerned with how insane she's going to go when she discovers that Jethro has made plans for his future without telling her. Heaven forbid she think he doesn't care about her business.

5. I really do have a book planned in my head.

My life is a plethora of half-written melodramas, but I really like this one. Maybe I'll finish it when I'm 90.

Mind Sludge

This is not going to be a good day. The new front desk girl at Jethro's work quit. This is the eighth one they've lost this year. It couldn't possibly have had anything to do with his hag of a boss lecturing for hours on why it is so important to put the green paper clips in the blue container and the red paper clips in the purple container. More likely it's just her caliber (as his boss so logically explains to anyone who asks why she has such trouble keeping employees).

Every time I see her, I want to rip every feathered, lacquered strand of hair from her head. And I'd be doing her a favor. You can take the girl out of Jersey.....

Anyway, Jethro is going to be doing the front desk work and seeing patients while she busily talks without ceasing. I'm not sure what I can do to make him feel better. I honestly don't know how he got out of bed this morning.

So I put the question to the Blogosphere. What would make you happy after a helluva day at the office?

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Now on an even more personal note, my mom filed for divorce from Stepdad again. But this time she paid the attorney. I guess she's serious. So this means she's going to be single again. Anyone want to be my daddy?

The thing is, I don't care anymore. I think she's batshit crazy for leaving Stepdad since she is unskilled, uneducated, and Stepdad is a vindictive bastard who will begrudge her every penny of child support, but she is the one who got herself into this mess and she refuses to acknowledge any idiocy on her part. I want to say she's suffered enough, but she really hasn't. I don't think she knows what to do if she's not suffering.

I read somewhere that everyone grieves differently and the length of time one grieves is different to each person. In response to a question on how long the grieving process takes, the answer was "whenever you don't want to grieve anymore."

And this is true. I grieved for years after my dad died. I drank, I wept (usually at the same time), and I suffered. I cut myself off from any true emotional contact with anyone unless it was to commiserate over mutual tragedy. And then I stopped.

There was no grand revelation that my health was on the brink of collapse, or even that Jethro's love was healing my troubled soul. I didn't have an epiphany where I realized that my dad wouldn't want me to suffer so. I'd already known that. And my stubborn mourning was probably as much a form of rebellion as anything else.

I wish there was a nobler way of saying that I simply didn't want to grieve anymore, but there isn't. I might have made a few half-hearted attempts to revive it - it was almost a security blanket by that time - but it was no longer reliable. It aroused no passion or emotion, just pretense. And living on false emotion is no way to live.

I wish I could share all this with my mother, but it wouldn't do any good. She married Stepdad too quickly and never properly mourned my father's death. Besides, adopting someone else's grieving process is like wearing someone else's used underwear. No good can come of it.

So as it turns out, I don't want to help her. At least not right now. I want her to suffer until she no longer wants to suffer anymore. It will only be then that I can help her. Until then, it's wasted effort.

I'm sorry if anyone's died of boredom by now. Sometimes I just need to organize some uninteresting thoughts.

Mind Clutter

I like Rod Stewart. No one understands this.

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Emma: Press my tummy and I'll say something

Zelda: *Press*

Emma: Mama!

Zelda: *Press*

Emma: I Love You!

Zelda: *Press*

Emma: Chihuahua!

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I had a dream that would translate into a pretty good story and I want to write it. But I don't know much about organized crime.

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John Edwards sent me another email asking me to host a party where I can get my friends to talk about him. He says, "Next Wednesday, your living room can change America."

Let's see how many ways we can tell Mr. Edwards to pound sand. I'll start.

I would, but none of my friends like you.

What's wrong with your living room? Too big?

I'm sorry, Mr. Edwards, but I can't afford the carbon offsets...

Be Careful What You Wish

If you ask your husband for a DP, you are more likely to get a funny look than a Dr. Pepper.

News Flash

Had an argument with Jethro last night. Actually it was more him yelling at me for awhile. There wasn't a whole lot I could argue.

I don't take criticism well. Ask anyone in my family - or anyone fool enough to disagree with me on a blog post. If you want to criticize me, you can kiss my juicy, pink ass first.

But every once in awhile, you just need to shut up and listen to what someone is telling you about yourself. I did last night.

It wasn't anything I didn't already know, but it revealed just how badly I was failing at quite a few different things.

I suppose I could sit around and dwell on it for awhile, but that would kind of negate the purpose of sitting there and taking it last night. So without further introspection, I shall commence with the getting of my ass in gear.

Don't Drop The Soap, Girls

I got sucked into TCMs gay-a-thon last night. I watched three women-in-prison movies in a row. I guess if you're looking for gay imagery, that's where to find it. I didn't realize it was the gay-a-thon until after I laughed my ass off watching Ladies They Talk About with Barbara Stanwyck. She had gone to prison for armed robbery and one of the other girls was showing her around. While they were in the restroom, they notice a manly looking woman smoking a cigar. Lillian Roth, the experienced inmate, quips direly, "Watch out for her - she likes to wrestle." In another scene, the Lesbian is working out and her fluffy little girlfriend is lying on the bed admiring her muscles.

It's so cool to see stuff like that in old movies. I realize that homosexuals have it much easier now, but there is something sexy about keeping it subtle.

The second movie was Caged with Eleanor Parker as a young, nearly innocent girl who was sent to prison for helping her husband rob a convenience store. Agnes Moorehead plays a pragmatic, yet sympathetic prison warden, and Hope Emerson plays the brutal, sadistic prison matron from whence all other Gigantic Lesbian Prison Matrons sprung. I didn't see any outright homosexuality - even Hope Emerson claimed to have a man on the outside (a fact with which she taunted the inmates). But the implications were all there.

The third was So Young, So Bad. It's a sexy little movie about a girls' reform school. Rita Moreno blew me away. She was practically a baby in the film, but she was incredible. Hers was the stand out preformance for me along with the Lesbian girls, Jackie and Jane played by Anne Jackson and Enid Pulver. Anne Francis was good too as a seductive, blonde bad girl. She must have driven men crazy way back when.

So now after having stayed up all night looking for gay bits in movies and allowing Jethro to service me afterwards, I'm tired. But it was fun.

Garbage Day

Zelda: Girls, would you pick up all the papers you've written on and throw them away? Tomorrow is Garbage Day.

Emma (scurrying excitedly to comply): How do we celebrate Garbage Day?

Zelda (laughing): Well, we pick up all the trash and we throw it out.

Emma: Then do we get cake?

Zelda: Sure, why not.

Gwennie (lolling indolently on the ground amidst all manner of clutter): Mooo-ooom, there's no such thing as Garbage Day. You're just saying that so we'll clean up.

Useless Human Prop

This is NOT safe for work, but it is hilarious. That seemed very passive aggressive. Maybe if they paid him more, his aim would be better.

I read the most marvelous blog essay the other day. It's long, but it is fascinating and I could not recommend it more highly. Should anyone care to discuss it, I am always up for a conversation....

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I've been out of pocket for a bit. It seems that Events are unfolding, and I may have some good news to blog about in the near future. I don't feel like tipping our hand just yet, though.

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My youngest sister who is 12 comes to me for advice about boys. She is tall, blond, and beautiful, and she always has several who really like her and are constantly vying for her attention. It's all I can do to pay attention to her actual dilemmas and not wander off into marvelling at the fact that she is only 12 and has had more boyfriends than I did my whole life. Sometimes I think it might be easier to be homely and weird so that when a gentleman comes to call, you can take your time making sure he's a good one. I'm so lucky. Homely, weird and a great rack. God let me have something.

Jokes

Gwennie and Emma are in the middle of a joke-telling phase and they are the world's worst joke tellers.

Here's a couple of the best:

Emma: What is a vampire's favorite holiday?

Me: I give up. What?

Emma: Valentine's Day. Get it? Get it? Because boy vampires love to give girl vampires flowers and chocolate and cookies on Valentine's Day.

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Gwennie: Why does it take so many surfers to screw in a light bulb?

Me (apprehensively): I don't know. Why?

Gwennie: Because they like to surf more than they like to screw!

(I made her tell it to Jethro whose eyes just about popped out of his head).

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Jethro was talking in his sleep last night.

Jethro: 11 hours to Hong Kong

Zelda: That far? I thought we were closer. You sure?

Jethro: 11 hours.

Zelda: What are we going to do when we get there?

Jethro: Eat shit and die.

George Straight Watched Us Pee

Jethro and I had a great little trip. We met up with a few of the TX bloggers, i.e. Jack, Tinyhands, and The Trashman, and Tinyhands' girl, Beth who is from Jersey.



It's cool to see bloggers you've met before. Surprisingly, after the first time you meet (assuming you hit it off) you don't end up talking about your blogs very much. We hung out for awhile at our hotel where Trashman kept us all amused for an hour or two, then went to The Broken Spoke. I drank some Coronas and had to visit the restroom where I was watched by the many staring eyes of myriad George Straights. I suppose there are worse things that could be looking down at you while you are indisposed.

After the Broken Spoke, Jack, Jethro and I hit 6th street. A different vibe is upon it. It's blacker. Probably happened after Katrina. We'll see how it plays out in the long run.

We saw the bearded mayoral candidate in one of his bikinis. He hadn't rammed the bottom up his ass to make a homemade thong this time. However, he did not smell nice.

I drank a lot more and had a decent sized hangover the next day. Jack wanted to go tubing on the Guadalupe River in the worst way and it broke my heart into itty bitty pieces to disappoint him. We went to Luckenbach instead.

I'd always wanted to go to Luckenbach. And that was before I knew the song. All I knew was that a friend of mine went and got so drunk he peed in his hat on the way back home. I knew I must find this magical place and at least have a beer, which we did.

We listened to some music, scoped out a few chicks, and watched Jack eat the biggest corn dog I've ever seen in my life. He took it like a pro, too. I'm a little jealous of his mad skillz.

It's a great place - kind of like a redneck Shangri-la. And that's all I'm going to say about it. You just have to visit.

We left Luckenbach and drove on to Fredericksburg. That is a great little town founded by Germans in the mid 19th century. They have done an amazing job of preserving their town's history and structures. Almost everything is closed on Sundays, and I really wish I'd gotten to see more of it, but that just gives us a reason to go back. Towns like that kind of tickle my fancy, and even though they're not totally Jethro's thing, he really likes it when my fancy is tickled.

So all in all, it was a fun weekend and one that was very much needed. I owe some special thanks to TH, Trash, and especially Jack for giving us such a good time. I hope we can do it again soon.

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Come Back Here So That I May Brain Thee!

In response to my post about feeling depressed (in which people were kind enough to lay out many reasons as to the whys and wherefores), I get this comment:

Zelda, dearest, could this malaise you complain of be somehow related, I wonder, to your unapologetic support for this hideous war in Iraq, an unresolved moral conflict expressing itself in textbook symptoms of neurosis? Unconsciously you identify with the Iraqis, especially the young mothers and children being terrorized by Bush, the "gorilla" of your id-generated psychic theatre. The tears and fantasy of hiding under the bed are obvious impulses toward acting out the daily reality of countless Iraqi households, impulses which your conscious identification with America the Good prohibits you from openly acknowledging. The war is lost however, and hence your gnawing sense of insecurity and hopelessness, feelings which can only be temporarily banished through the sexual banter that characterizes so much of your site content. Remember, Zelda, you can erase this comment but your conscience -and your unconscious- will be with you always. Gordon Tryon 05.23.07 - 1:38 pm

First off, I know I could erase your comment seeing as how it's my blog and all, but I'd never let you off that easily.

So allow me to respond:

Dearest Gordon,

Where did you attend medical school, because I think you have a point. I think I would be much happier and more secure if Saddam were still in power, starting wars with our allies, murdering political dissidents, plotting the assassinations of our presidents, having discussions with Abu Mussab al Zarqawi, bilking the UN out of billions of dollars, and starving his people while he built palaces. I'm sure I could rest much easier at night in the self-righteous knowledge that the dirty little brown-skinned people of Iraq were being terrorized indefinitely by a monster of their own culture as opposed to fighting Islamic fundamentalists for freedom and democracy. I wish I'd thought of it sooner.

So I'm revising my stance. We stupidly let Saddam swing so we'll have to find us another dictator, but I support his installment as soon as possible. As soon as Iraq gets back to the old routines of carefully crafting their words and actions to avoid rape and torture and death at the hands of an all-powerful government, the better.

Now in the interest of full disclosure, I had bouts of depression during the Clinton administration as well. But that probably had nothing to do with politics because there were no terrorist attacks or wars during his tenure.

So thank you for your professional expertise and allow me to return the favor:

Gordon, dearest Gordon: Get out of your house. Go get a beer and engage in some sexual banter before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. You're obsessing over politics and seeing political specters where there are none. It has distorted your perception of reality.

Trying Times

So just when I'm in the frantic stages of trying to pack up 7 years worth of crap, a pipe to the water heater starts leaking a stream of water into the garage. Then I discover that the water has leaked through the wall and onto the carpet of our bedroom, soaking it, and making it smell not-so-poppin' fresh. Then one of the blades to the living room fan flies off which will necessitate the purchase of another one. Then the 'Check Fuel Cap' light on the brand-new Pilot starts lighting up for no reason whatsoever. Then Jethro's car gets a flat. Then Jethro couldn't get the flat tire off the car. Then the main computer conks out completely. I think it has a virus which means we wasted a damn fucking lot of money on Norton.

I'm now going to go take a shower and shave a my legs a little.

I'll let you know if the roof collapses.

So Let's See What's Going On In The World Today:

Lebanese army shells refugee camp . Those Christian bastards. Oh wait. They're actually bombing a Syrian backed al-Qaeda linked group who seem to be using the refugee camp as a base of operations for attacks on Lebanon. That can't be right. Surely those good, peaceful Muslims would never put innocent refugees in harm's way. And surely the AP wouldn't try to obfuscate that fact with a misleading headline....

Oh, and they seem to have found the headless bodies of our troops who were captured in Iraq. The bodies were said to bear the marks of severe torture. I guess they found some panties on their heads. Oh no. Wait. They didn't have heads....

Let's see. What other pressing news are we missing because of all this nasty war business...here we go...Yahoo's big story: 45 million vote for updated seven world wonders. This is very important information to have. Some Egyptians are pissed.

Iran is protesting a Cannes Film Festival entry by a woman who living in Iran during the Islamic Revolution. They said it's a (horror of horrors) "political act." And everyone knows how they feel about political acts. And just so everyone knows, they don't arrest women who show their hair. They just "talk" to them.

Strike 7,867,960,071 Against Public Education

A panel from the University of Colorado's Conference on World Affairs met at Boulder High School for a frank discussion of sex and drugs with the students.

Here's the money quote from the Denver Post: "I'm going to encourage you to have sex, and I'm going to encourage you to use drugs appropriately," panelist Joel Becker, a Los Angeles clinical psychologist, told the students. "And why I am going to take that position is because you're going to do it anyway." (source)

You're getting sleeeeepy, sooooooo sleeeeeeeepy. When I count to three, you're going to have sex and use drugs appropriately. With me. One...Two...

How exactly do you use drugs appropriately? And who the hell wants to have appropriate sex? Maybe he's trying that new-fangled reverse psychology. What an innovator.

The article goes on to excuse this moron by quoting another moron who says, "When you're talking to high school students about these issues," Palmer said, "I think there is a responsibility on the part of adults to be informed and to be candid."

That was informed? Candid? Did he discuss genital warts? Because nothing will explain things quite so thoroughly as an ass full of blisters.

There is a responsibility on the part of PARENTS to be informed and candid. You, on the other hand, could be a pervert who gets his jollies by talking about sex with minors. And another of my responsibilities as a parent is to make sure you don't have access to my kids until I know for sure you don't have an ulterior motive.

Because Everything Is Backwards in Cincinnati

My sister and I were watching a clip of Dustin Diamond aka Screech from Saved By the Bell getting ripped a new one by that drill seargent on Celebrity Fit Club (thank you, Blowing Smoke). It was pretty good. We started discussing how Screech had been in porn and I told her he had participated in (and I'm not exactly sure how because I would rather poke out my eyes with poisoned darts than watch it) a Dirty Sanchez. She didn't know what a Dirty Sanchez was. I had no desire to tell her outright, so I looked it up on urbandictionary.com and let her read the definition (apparantly they can be confused with a Dirty Rodriguez, which was interesting.)

Now once you look up something on urban dictionary, you can't help looking up a few others. The Cincinnatti Bowtie (the concept, not the actual act) has now given me hours of mirth.

So gentlemen (Tater excluded because if he could mount titties on his wall, he would): would you ever want to be the giver of a Cincinnatti Bowtie?

Blech

I feel the depression coming on. I can't figure out what triggers it, but suddenly I'm fighting back tears for no reason at all. I don't so much want to crawl under the covers as I want to crawl under the bed and hide. I feel like I have gorilla arms that are holding 100 lb weights. The malaise and self-doubt are the worst part.

I start feeling that I shouldn't be married to Jethro because he deserves someone much better, but he would rather live through decades of torture than be dishonorable and break up with me. I know it isn't true (he would definitely leave me if he wanted to) but it nags at me and adds a few more lbs to the weights in my gorilla hands.

I want to have a tangible quality that I can bank on - a hot bod, an immortal record of my intelligence, or at least stellar hygiene. I'm not fussy.