February 25th, 2003

Chalkboard

Stormy Weather, Bath Fun With Cats, Irma's Alcoholic Husband and Little Ghosts, More Weight Loss Surgery Stuff, and some Spam

Another storm is rolling in. From my window here in my cozy little home office I can see bright and clear sky on two sides of me, and on the other, to the West, big dark storm clouds are hanging in the sky. Weather is exciting and electric to people who live in Los Angeles. We see so little of it. Just days and days of grey foggy days punctuated by a few semi-clear bright ones. And it's always beautiful after it rains.

I took a nice long bath this morning. Some of the kitties sat around the edges of the tub and played with the water. Then Curly Girl and Ruby Dee, or maybe it was Ping, dove in, one right after the other. Then they look startled for a few seconds, as if they can't believe they did something so completely stupid, before they panic and tear up my skin trying to claw their way out. They always do this, so I have to be careful never to leave the bath full of water unless I am right there.

Irma came in and kept me company for a while. She told me that she's hoping her brother-in-law will haul her husband off to dry out at some hospital. She is so done with him. She just wants him out, and he won't go. She's given him so many chances and he blows every one of them. I feel sorry for both of them. But I truly feel sorry for Irma and her kids. It's hard to feel sorry for an alcoholic who keeps hitting deeper and deeper bottoms and missing every chance at recovery that is handed to him. I know it's a dis-ease, but come on, he has four children and a mother to take care of, and he places the entire burden on his wife. It's just so unfair.

I showed Irma some photos I had bought. I'm sure you know by now that I collect vintage paper -- postcards, photos, assorted ephemera. I love double exposures because they look so spooky and ghostly. One of my pics reminded Irma of a little girl ghost who haunted her home town for years and years. She never aged and would come on certain nights and knock on people's doors and say, "Mother, Father, please let me in." Everyone believed that if you waved mango branches near her she would disappear. Irma is convinced of all of this. Funny, I had dreams about a baby mango tree, covered with fruit, last night.

I conditioned my hair -- my hair that is three colors, red, auburn, and cherry black at the ends. It doesn't look good, I didn't do this on purpose. I just can't get any color to match my roots. I know I need to go to a good colorist who can strip some of it and then find a good color that will cover everything. I want so badly to go to my ol' pals, the Hair Police, and do something wild, but I am so afraid of gaining one ounce, I worry that a head full of dreads and braids would weigh a couple of pounds.

Since I know that they are going to tell me to lose ten more pounds before my surgery, I have seriously been thinking of ways to increase my weight artificially so that when I go in for my weigh-in I'll weigh more than I really do. I fantasize that I will find some way to put lead sand in my heavy oversized shoes, double up on sweaters and clothes, and hide ankle weights in my pockets, so that come my pre-surgery weigh-in, I can miraculously lose those ten pounds when I show up in a light cotton slip dress and flip flops. Since my doctor has moved hospitals and doesn't remember me from Eve I've been thinking about fudging my original weigh-in weight on the medical records I have to pick up and take to him. For all he knows I weighed four hundred pounds when he examined me.

I have so much to do. Things for Beau, for the house, for my surgery, for the animules. I've been ignoring phone line one, we have three, for a few days because my creepy ex-housekeeper, the one who screwed me over so badly, keeps calling. After more than two years she's still hassling me. I paid her everything she extorted from me and then I cut her loose. Now she's ostensibly calling because she has a "Chow-Chow" to give me. Like we need one more living thing in this house. It is so hard for me to have boundaries but I'm doing it. Nope, not gonna have any more drug-selling, gang-member-loving thieves, who accuse me of causing their miscarriages, calling the immigration to deport the children I was so generous and loving towards, and who threaten my family, in this house. Nope, na ga da.

And here for your reading enjoyment are a random sampling of the subject lines of some of the Spam I received today. Naturally I opened all of them right away, especially the ones with files or photos attached. I mean I wouldn't want to miss a chance to enlarge my penis or lose thirty pounds in a month.

Nicole@papercoo... See my tight pussy
one8844964@chi... Take Action On Your Mortgage!
mail904778@pac... Lose Up To Thirty Pounds Per Month
CWellsASP Instantly Attract the Opposite Sex!...
HOLL1EBABE I need ten people!
hubb2673738990@ca... Is it big enough? Cock...
listhandler2@I-FRI... YOUNGSEX4U-GRAM: From Mary (Possible Mature...
cbgcbg@telocity... Eager to see you
Gargoogoo@aol.c... A special funny game
kittysouza@pdq.net your penis will be thicker and fuller <376861>
Fitzgibbon505 Enlarge Your Penis Up To 3 Inches, Guaranteed! ...
garrick@collectiv... Discover and Snoop

And this has nothing to do with anything except that it's funny and I dig their hats.
Chalkboard

My Pal Seymour Butts

I forgot to mention that I was browsing through my TV choices last night and stumbled across a dating show that was on in place of a movie that had been scheduled for that time slot. Being a big fan of reality TV I thought I'd give it a go. There was this handsome man talking with his mother about how hard it was for him to find a woman to have a serious relationship with. He seemed so nice. He had a little boy who lived with him. He was friendly and close to his Mother. He seemed really smart, had a successful business of some kind, and was kind. What more could a gal want?

They showed him going out on a date. He was nervous, asked his Mom for advice on his clothes, and wore the jacket she picked out. He goes in to this bar and there is this beautiful woman sitting there waiting for him. They order drinks and we hear his voice over saying that he's dreading the big question. What big question?

"So I hear you're ummm, in the entertainment industry? What do you do?"
"Well, I'm a director and a producer in the... adult entertainment industry." The girl looks thrown, tries to keep her frozen face from falling, forces a smile. "Unhunh, ummm, and are you in any of these movies you make?"
"Well, yeah, I do the whole thing."
"Oh, and would I have seen any of these movies in my, uh, local video store?"
"Yeah definitely. There'd be a whole section of them."
"What are they called?"
"Seymour Butts. I'm Seymour Butts."
Gulp.

They go for a drive and he takes a call on his cell. There's an emergency in the editing suite.
"This cum shot just isn't working."
"Can't you handle it or wait for me? I'm coming in in the morning."
"No I have to ship these out first thing!"
"But I'm on a date here..."
The blonde interrupts with an, "I don't mind. If it's an emergency then you should go in."
"You don't mind? Okay, terrific, great."

He takes her to his studio and they go to the editing booth where some very aggressive, hard-core porn is playing. She's never seen an X-rated video, poor little sheltered thing. The camera cuts from the porn, to her startled face, jaw dropped, hand fluttering to her mouth, and back to the porn.

"Ummm could I use your restroom?"

The date crashes and burns. Poor Seymour Butts. Don't tell Scott but if I thought I was up to his beauty standards I wouldn't throw him out of bed. Okay, well, I don't know, but he'd have to be a pretty amazing lover, and there certainly wouldn't be any shortage of dinero. Are you shocked? That I like Seymour Butts? Didn't he used to pal around with Shane?

There's a gal on a dating show on TV right now and she says her nickname is Wacqui Jacqui. Just like me. At work they call her Sparky. No one's ever called me Sparky. Bunny, Orca, (don't ask, it was traumatic), Dolly, Angel, Mermaid, but not Sparky.
Chalkboard

(no subject)

It's been a while since I've linked to my journal pal marstokyo's website. She is one of my muses and a constant source of inspiration. She just blows me away. I love her work so much. Tiny theatres, what more could a theatre loving actor/collage-artist-gal like me want? I wish I could post a picture of one of her teatros but I think you'd be better off going and looking at them for yourself. Amazing!