Saturday, May 31, 2008

My shocking trip to the ocean

Jesus Christ, i'm exhausted, so this entry will be brief, potentially unintelligible, and subject to drastic editing in the days ahead. I just wanted to get the entry under "May 31," though. A family party near the shore turned into a "wanna go to LBI?" query from my brother. So off we went! My first beach trip of the season! A keepsake magnet! Drinkin in TWO old classic haunts! The sand! The water! The memories of yesteryear! It's all a bit too much to take in...especially with little food but 5 or 6 beers and a strawberry daquiri in me. Topping it all off, though, was the TOTAL shocking spontaneousness of it. And i'd wanted to hit the beach weekly all summer long, so this nicely (and barely) met Week #1's requirements. Fantastic. God, I need sleep. *PS -- 43 points in the bar basketball game!

Thursday, May 29, 2008

So EVERY single person in the Bush administration is "PUZZLED" by Scott McClellan?

There's actually nothing specifically SHOCKING in this book...at least from everything the press is talking about. It's who's making the allegations...a former cherished Bushie insider. And no, no, no...of COURSE there's no organized denial of said allegations, claim the 637 staunch Republicans appearing on everything but SESAME STREET to personally attack McClellan. To call him a liar, stupid, cowardly, just in it for the payday, the worst kind of Judas. They're all "puzzled." They all say "this doesn't sound like the Scott I know." Mary Matalin practically called him Hitler, though to be fair, she can't think too clearly from the trauma of being so deeply embedded in the Bush family's collective anus. Everyone's "troubled" and "saddened." Are you? Awww, how thoughtful. But are you sure you're not actually LIVID and NERVOUS? Just asking.

Fucking Idiots of the Week

1) Sharon Stone
2) Dunkin Donuts
3) Michelle Malkin and any other person who actually believes Rachael Ray meant ANYthing terrorist-related by wearing a FUCKING SCARF
4) Michelle Malkin one more time, simply 'cause this bitch fucking annoys the shit out of me

Gregoire welcomes reader response!

Thank you so much, Latest Anonymous, for your thoughtful email comment. We here at ZEN.ANGER.PERSPECTIVE welcome vigorous reader input. It is Gregoire's goal to enlighten, humor, and provoke. By writing, you've validated once again Gregoire's decades-long dynamic appeal to the masses. Your email will be forwarded to the proper department. Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day! Peace.

Man-o-man...you continue to test us readers with non-stop banter about nothingness. Plus now you've become "hater" of children?!?! Two words bro..."Psycho therapy". Check it out, could do wonders for your personality and lack of friends. I'm sure you spent the rest of today writing some really long over-exaggerated response to the anonymous commenter...with tons of cursing and curt quips...save it. At this point I've lost all interest in your writing. Enjoy your alone time...from what I gather you've got about 40 more years of it!

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

TMZ

The website's great. The show sucks. Just doesn't translate. Period. Ugh, these camera whore employees who THEMSELVES wanna be famous...all making idiotic, "hilarious" commentary as fucking boss Harvey Levin listens intently and scribbles nonsense on some stupid ass marker board. It's a work meeting, get it? And we're all invited "inside" to observe. Genius. In between, you're forced to endure yet another smarmy voiceover dude and dumbass, time-filler sound effects and graphics. It's all very much excruciating.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

WHY are there no ADULTS-ONLY small parks?

I thought of this as I tried to enjoy this first truly humid, summerlike day on a park bench in a...um, park. A small little park near my house. And, of course, a swarm of small children were screaming all around me. Yes, there was a playground...but I guess that's my point...MUST there be a fucking playground?! I guess it's too much to expect, say, porn booths to distract the family set. But i'm just wondering WHERE the fuck i'm supposed to go to enjoy some peace and quiet?

By the way, I've never been closer than I was on Saturday at the mall in Paramus to kicking one of those "fun" strollers that are made to resemble small cars or something...and take up an UNGODLY amount of room. And these stupid ass parents had TWO of them side by side for each child. Those fucking kids are lucky Uncle Gary didn't forcefully kick their Kiddie Cars straight back into Baby Gap and the fuck out of my on-a-mission way as they all strolled at Negative Two MPH. Just like Morning People, these motherfucking parents...utterly unaware that there's people other than them.

Anyway...I had my Ipod on high volume throughout my bench stay (where I also sipped a most refreshing Dunkin Donuts iced latte) as a buffer against The Noise. Truth be told, I wasn't that annoyed. I had a lovely 45-minute or so sitdown despite the kids. I've been in a great mood all damn day. Like some new Summer Era has begun. Very zen. It also helped that my tax stimulus check finally came...should've come LAST week. And my 2-week-plus cold is finally just about gone. I've just felt great in every way. Just went for a refreshing 10:45pm brief bike ride to enjoy the breezy, lower humidity conditions. Oh, the minutae! But, yeah, I'm sick of The Children...if I haven't made that clear recently...

Monday, May 26, 2008

Memorial Day Weekend...ONE down!

Sigh, well I never saw the ocean this weekend, but it was a good weekend. Productive, very productive...if often solitary, as I HAVE NO LOCAL FRIENDS. I'm exhausted beyond belief...I certainly FEEL like i've driven to Florida and back. And let's not forget the reasoning behind today's holiday, please. Must...lay...on couch...now...in dark...TV on...warm winds blowing on me...

You've finally come for me, stiff southwesterly winds!

Like many a Memorial Day past (mixed in with the many awful, rainy ones), it is almost eerie how Mother Nature has made it feel like summer RIGHT on cue. Sure, we had those wonderful 2 weeks in April, but between the evening sea breezes, lack of fragrant greenery, and lack of humidity, it didn't REALLY feel like summer. But today...and TONIGHT...ding, ding, ding! It's 1:30am and still 72 degrees...WITH humidity. Then there's those stiff and oh, so deliciously balmy southwesterly winds SLAMMING into my living room! YES! The fact that I have all 4 living room, south-facing windows open at 1:30am is the REAL sign summer's here. Sweet Jesus, that smell of balmy land air...it's almost too much to handle. It reminds me of vacations & hotels. Hotels right on the ocean, where you'd GET such a strong balmy breeze. Can I use the word BALMY more? I fucking love that word. The only disappointment at this moment is that my fiber optic grass plant isn't rippling as wildly in the wind as I'd hoped...perhaps because the plant looks half-dead. Dammit. Suddenly, i'm in the mood for yachting and baseball. Yes, it IS my mission to cram every motherfucking summer cliche possible into my life this season.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

The most hilariously wrong SNL skit in years

I was actually OUT on the Saturday night in April when this first aired, so last night's repeat was the first I saw it. Simply put, it was about a paralyzed stripper. SO fantastically crude and offensive. BRAVO!

Seeking: smart, sarcastic, laid back, child-free new male friends

Yes, it's come to this. But i'm fucking pissed off that i'm sitting here on Sunday night of Memorial Day weekend with absolutely no prospects. Perhaps I should make this the night I start drinking by myself at less-than-packed bars? I've really fucking had it. So if you're a Hudson County, NJ or NYC reader of my blog and find me fascinating, and think I'd find you equally so, and you also like to drink regularly, curse like a sailor and mock others, DO get in touch with me. Night owls encouraged...as you'll bore me to tears if you start nodding off at midnight. And I can't stress enough...having a child or the need to endlessly discuss your ball and chain...er, wife or girlfriend...won't be tolerated. Self-interested motherfuckers only, please. I have romantic visions of all the classic writers who would drink together till dawn at storied NYC watering holes. Hey, I guess I shouldn't discriminate...so if you're female and the Elaine Benes type, you can feel free to hit me up, too. I'd be amazed if this naked plea worked. But stranger things have happened.

"I am SO sick of these people with their children!"

I couldn't have said it better myself, Samantha Jones.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

A t-shirt, tank top, and 2 pairs of flip-flops...what $13.50 bought me tonight!

I vowed I was done with Old Navy...that I couldn't let it define my look for the summer, but it's just TOO tempting! The t-shirt and wifebeater were both $5 each (!?!?!?!?) as part of some super-duper sale, and the flops have been 2 for $5 since LAST summer. PLUS, I had a 10% coupon for taking part in some online survey. Next to being FREE, you really can't beat those prices. Incredible.

Then I headed to the Gap to finally use my 20% coupon...on a regularly-priced item. Now before I left the house today, I took inventory of my shorts. I had 7 pairs...6 super old, 1 brand new. I took note of the colors and that each was a solid. Thus, I went to the mall looking for tan or patterned shorts...which I don't have. Tan in that cargo kinda way. And that's exactly what I found. I'm tossing most, if not all, of my old shorts. God, this topic's pathetic. I'm just so excited to finally have new clothes to wear, along with the incredible deals I got on them. I've also settled on yet another pair of sneakers...this time for hiking/walking/the gym...a $40 Nike pair. YAY! It'll be the first time in about 7 years I've had more than one pair of sneakers. Can you fucking imagine? I can't either. I look back at my life over the past few years and i'm just speechless at how i've made it through on so many levels.

HOLY SHIT, I just remembered something incredible. I saw the exact pair of sneakers I got for Xmas in 1986...and threw out in 1999, I think...at the mall tonight! For sale as NEW!?! High top gray and black Nikes! What the fuck?! Let me say that again...1986!!! They're called "Terminator" something. Now they're "vintage" or "classics." TOO fucking funny. I'm livid, of course, that I threw them out. I couldn't get over it. I was fondling them repeatedly, feeling like someone got them from my trash. They're definitely the first hip pair of sneakers I ever had. Before them, I do believe I never had a name brand. Mom didn't believe in wasting money on making Gary's life at school easier. I finished my incredibly productive mall trip with a doubleshot something from Starbuck's. Yes, a rather satisfactory First Saturday of Summer!

My 1st visit to a NJ classic...RUTT'S HUT

It's unfathomable that I've never gone here before today. It's a place of legend. And within MINUTES of where I grew up. Rutt's Hut in Clifton, NJ. They're famous for their hot dogs...so that's exactly what I got today. One hot dog, please. Though I just learned via online research that they're called "rippers" here. I knew i'd be right in the area shopping today, so last night when I had everything SUMMER on my mind, it dawned on me to once and for all go here. This joint is CLASSIC AMERICANA...an ideal symbolic place to begin what I'm intent on making a classic summer.

If only I knew how to get there. I'd meant to find it online before I left, but I forgot. So ALL I had to go with was that I always saw a big sign for it while driving the connecting highway ramp between Rt. 21 North and Rt. 3 West. My ENTIRE life i've seen this sign, yet never went to the actual place. SO...it was a fun little jaunt figuring out how to get there, as you could SEE it from the highway, but not GET to it. I used my little head, though, and drove toward the general area...and found it rather easily.

It IS out of the way, though...which makes it more fun, if you ask me. Reading about it online tonight, I'm glad to see i'm not the only one who thinks so. Also reassuring was reading about how OTHERS, too, arrived confused about exactly how to actually GET their food. I sat in the parking staring at the building, which seemed to have multiple entrances. Ding, ding...I was right. There's a restaurant part, a bar part, and then the hot dog part...which is standing room only. It's just SO delightfully old school...right down to the menu board, like something you see on the boardwalk. It opened 80 years ago...and looks just about the same as it did in 1928. There's a huge parking lot where I ate my dog while leaning against the car under the strong 5pm sun, staring into space. Perfect!

I was a tad alarmed when I saw the dog...thick and meaty. I like Sabretts...slender. So I was stunned when I bit into it and it DIDN'T have that nauseating meaty taste. How, i'm not sure...and don't care. This hot dog was among the BEST I'VE EVER TASTED IN MY LIFE!! I'm appalled I've been so close to this mouth-watering joy my entire life without indulging. Now they're called RIPPERS because they're all burnt and cut up on the outside...the meat ripping. They're deep fried, you see. Apparently, there's "cremators," too...EXTRA burnt. I'll have to get that one next time. I'm all about everything being well done, thank you. So tough on the outside, tender in the middle...yet without that UGH meaty taste. YUM! How I didn't go back inside for a 2nd is beyond me. The mustard was fantastic, too. I will now make this a regular stop throughout the summer! I urge anybody nearby who's never been to Rutt's to do the same.

That's right, Hillary's hoping Barack is assassinated

Oh, NO! Now I'VE added fuel to the fire! Now MY words will be held to be inflammatory and an apology will be demanded of me! By people like Al Sharpton and the maddenenly dense imbeciles at all his speeches chanting "that's right, that's right!" after his every sentence. And you KNOW I wanna say more about THAT, but...well, you know. Well, you do if you have half a brain.

SO...to be very clear...my title line here is SARCASM. Vicious, dismissive sarcasm. Directed at EVERY SINGLE FUCKING MORON who somehow thought Hillary Clinton meant anything OTHER than the fact that nomination races have previously run into June when she referenced RFK's assassination. The SCOPE of your FUCKING STUPIDITY is beyond staggering. Sure, she could've chosen her words more wisely, I GUESS...though I have a problem even admitting THAT, since it's so clear what she meant. I feel like the only way she was dumb was in not grasping that most others are DUMBER and realizing they'd wildly misconstrue her point. Yet another epic, noisy, complete non-issue.

Friday, May 23, 2008

So NJ has the dumbest drivers, huh?

When I first heard this on the news yesterday, my instant reaction was to be defensive and irate. But then I collected myself and realized, hey, OK, that actually seems JUST about right. I mean, I AM on the verge of violence within 10 seconds of ever being behind the wheel. Hell, even when i'm not and merely observing on foot. So this national study by GMAC Insurance seems to have concluded what I do daily...that i'm surrounded by stupidity. On the roads, that is; this study can't vindicate me in all other areas.

Twenty standard written driver's test questions were given. Now I just took the test...and I won't lie...I got a 75%. Five questions wrong. Hey, I passed. But I must say, a lot of the questions aren't very practical. And one of the ones I "failed" is totally wrong, if you ask me. It said you're supposed to merge onto a highway at the SAME speed as the rest of the highway? I put a bit slower than the speed of traffic...and I stand by it. Not that I EVER wanna go slow, but it's just the NATURAL way of merging to use a bit of caution...THEN pick up speed ASAP. So you're supposed to fly onto a highway at 70mph? Cmon. I could go and on and on with this topic, but i'm VERY tired. Simply put, I know i'm the greatest driver I know. Seriously.

And with that, i'm gonna lounge on the couch and savor the end of the First Night of Summer. It was a glorious start to Summer '08...sunny and low 70s, long bike ride, final landscaping, 8 oz. Miller Lights, buying new wifebeaters, the apartment SILENCE. What more could I ask for?

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Twas the night before Summer...

When all through the house,
Not a Dipshit was stirring,
And certainly not a spouse.

New outfits were hung in what passes for a closet with care,
In hopes that Gary will often get the fuck outta there.

Zero children were nestled all snug in their beds,
Assisting Gary's sugary visions of beachy decadence to which he'll be led.

Obama's got so many eating out of his lap,
But he best get used to a long summer's Clintonian rap.

The bitch in back with the weedwacker at 8am has caused MUCH a clatter,
And Gary will soon spring from his apt at 3am to tape a nasty note on the door that a neighbor's fucking pissed off at the oft-happening matter.

On, Dipshit! On, Rude Fucking Early Birds! Go, yonder, you vixens!
And everyone stay the fuck off the front porch, as you're driving me up a wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away, all!

I yearn to exclaim, night after night,
This summer's a BALL, you're doing me RIGHT!

You have 15 weekends of summer ahead of you! But sometime's 16...

I made another fascinating calendar discovery tonight. It was like Easter all over again, when I was going back through all my daily planners since the early 90s. I'd wanted to know exactly how many weekends of Unofficial Summer we had...Memorial Day through Labor Day weekends. FIFTEEN this year. And that's the case normally. Now Labor Day doesn't GET earlier than it does this year...SEPT 1. Ugh. I hate that.

So that got me thinking about 1998, when I clearly recall Labor Day being the LATEST it can be, the 7th. And THAT got me thinking, well, gee, Memorial Day must've been the latest it could be that year...and THAT is when I made a most interesting discovery. Memorial Day that year was May 25th...and that Getaway Friday the 22nd...actually, the EARLIEST it can be. SO...for whatever reason, the years when Memorial Day is earliest and Labor Day is latest...are ALWAYS the SAME year. And THOSE years, we have SIXTEEN weekends. Did you follow all that? Before '98, only 1992 had a 16-weekend summer...and that's as far back as my planners go. So these are pretty rare. Isn't that all interesting, though? Well, fuck you all, it's interesting to ME. Damn, 1998 was just SUCH a great summer in so many ways! No wonder I piled so much fun into it! Yes, i'm Rain Man.

So, motherfuckers, you have 15...that's FIFTEEN...weekends until Labor Day to have Summer '08 Classic Hijinks Fun that you'll remember decades from now. I have every intention of making this summer the best i've had since...hmm, 1998? Though 2001 was good, too...that beautiful, innocent summer. I'm really like a high school kid the night before Last Day. The day I lose this youthful enthusiasm, it's all over. So I want you people to retain that number in your heads -- 15...15...15...15...15 -- when you start telling someone, "yeah, we'll have to get together sometime this summer." Or tellin YOURSELF you'll get to something this summer. DON'T keep putting it off! There are a scant FIFTEEN weekends! USE them! Wisely! Get outside! On your mark, get set...FROLIC!!!!!

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

I've just ordered 4 free copies of THE ECONOMIST

One of those annoying pop-ups was actually for something interesting. Sure, I'll try 4 free issues of THE ECONOMIST, then simply write "cancel" if it's not for me, and not owe a dime. I've been MEANING to start getting more magazines by mail again. I'm definitely in a real crafty, aggressive moneymaking/saving/get-free-shit frame of mind lately. My month-long gym trial just ended...and i'm already plotting my next free one. I have a feeling i'll have mixed feelings on THE ECONOMIST. It's definitely better than PEOPLE...but i'm sure it's a bit eye-rollingly highfalutin. Something you read in public to make a Look How Fucking Bright I Am statement...which, of course, i'm not opposed to. Perception. Is. Reality.

OK, that's IT! If I see ONE more news story about clipping coupons...

I've lost count of the TV news stories AND print ones on "how to score unbelievable savings at the supermarket during these tough economic times!" I'M GONNA FUCKING SCREAM!! I don't know what angers me more...the fact that I'VE been talking about this for YEARS or that everyone involved seems so genuinely flabbergasted by the savings. Of course, the latter would play into my ongoing contention that Everyone Is Fucking Stupid. Mindblowing discoveries are made known to both the reporters and the Idiot Dumpy Housewife (because why would any, oh, MAN ever shop for food?) by Professional Coupon Geniuses. Things like there's tons of coupons in every Sunday's paper! And you need to read the circulars that are thrown on your doorstep! And you need to use a store card to get some instant savings! And...well, those are the ONLY 3 things you need to know here, people. EVERYONE involved is just stunned by the savings. The anchors are almost at a loss for words. Holy fucking Christ.

The sheer laziness of the story also pisses me off. Surely one station's consumer reporter saw a rival's coupon story and decided to do the same thing. Way to be creative. And in the nation's largest market. Last but not least, these professional coupon bitches are making MONEY off of dumb dolts. It can't be much money, but still. They're charging some monthly or yearly fee for some stupid ass coupon and sale newsletter. Hey, Dumb Dumpy Housewife, guess what? If you can bend your sweatpant-clad ass over to pick up the circular at your front door and have motor skills in your hand to clip a coupon, you can save yourself MORE money by simply finding the best savings YOURSELF. You don't NEED to pay these "professionals." *And, yes, i'm aware of the terrible irony that I could likely rake in some dough advising the masses on this. I guess i'm just too wonderful a human being to fleece already struggling people out of more money.

I voted for David Cook 11 times last night

Over and over I called the number, fighting an occasional busy signal. Undaunted, I'd hit redial, intent on registering 10 votes. Then I added an extra one because I've always found the number 11 lucky.

...OK, i'm writing this in "real time." DAVID COOK JUST WON!!!!!!!!! I MUST admit, i'm stunned. Even though a lot of people had him winning in recent days, Lil' Archie still seemed to have some intangible "edge." I mean, he'd been coronated from day one. Maybe that worked against him? But let me say I actually like Archie. Some may say his "oh, gosh" stunned appreciation was an act, but I don't buy that. And I'm a hardened cynic. They both seem to be incredibly genuine people. They both have The Look. And, yes, they can both "sing the phonebook, baby." Lil' Archie's stagedad father kinda cast a bad pall over his reputation; hopefully, Archie won't be beaten tonight at the hotel. He probably already has a record contract...he'll be just fine. Cook's story is more rags-to-riches, while Archie's the stereotypical kid doing this his whole life.

Listen, this was the best final yet. EITHER one, as Simon said, technically would've been valid. They're both stars. But being i'm not a 12-year-old girl, my pick was David Cook. And I helped him win by over 12 million votes!! I had tears in my eyes when he won. Yes, you read right. And I don't care. It was a great, great moment...by a very decent human being. And I'm a fan of Decent Human Beings...getting everything they deserve. Basking in their reward for genuine talent and hard work. I'm very happy for both Davids. SEE how generous with my praise I can be? All of this surely sounds very cheesy to a lot of people. Whatever. I realize it's a TV show and no one I know. It's fun, though. Oh, I could go on, but I have things to tend to. Congratulations, David Cook!

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Note to focus group moderators...

Asking us the same question about 10 different ways isn't going to pull radical different answers out of us. So, if, say, the question is "how do you picture the type of person who'd take a Carnival cruise?," there's just about ONE way to say "a middle class family looking for value and a getaway from the drudgery of daily life." It gets rather comical trying not to laugh when you're repeating yourself. But bullshit is what you advertising and PR types specialize in, isn't it? :) But I guess I shouldn't bitch about sitting on a comfortable couch while sipping a Coke, bullshitting for a mere hour, then ripping $125 cash out of the receptionist's hands. Oh, and free candy, too. And a fine selection of lobby periodicals. Not to mention meeting new people...for an hour...until you leave the elevator sans parting words and everyone scatters with their cash, never to be seen again. Thank you, McCann Erickson & Carnival Cruises! Despite my sarcasm, DO call again!

Sunday, May 18, 2008

25 years: MAY 18, 1983

It was a Wednesday, the day that forever became a Turning Point. To ward off "OH, MY GOD, WHAT HAPPENED?!" emails, it was the day I moved. Abruptly. Not a sobbing "mommy, why are we leaving at 1am?!" abruptly. But a mom-tells-me-and-dad-when-we-return-from-a-camping-trip-that-we're-moving-in-3-days abruptly. To Grandma's vacant house, roughly 3 blocks...yet a WHOLE OTHER WORLD...away. I'll never forget it. This is where I express typical disbelief that it's been a quarter of a century. Most other things, though, greatly pale in comparison to THIS seminal date in my life history. That move changed EVERYthing. And reverberates to this day.

Andy Rooney goes through his desk drawer

That was the basis for his segment on 60 MINUTES tonight. He showed his rubber bands, stapler, scotch tape, little mirror, pens, pencils, ruminating on each of them...you get the point. Unbelievably mundane. Unbelievably hysterical. I need to get paid to do the same. "Here's an inscribed Shrinky Dink keychain I made for my mother in 1982..."

Rold Gold Honey Wheat Braided Pretzel Twists

Do yourself a favor...drop everything and run to the supermarket to get these NOW. They're not new to me, but I only buy them on sale, of course. I may finish the entire 10 oz. bag tonight. SO. FUCKING. GOOD.

My email to the DNC in support of Hillary

As I continued my hours-long lazy Sunday breakfast/internet scanning, I plopped onto www.hillaryclinton.com to see what angle her site had today. The main thing was a plea to email the Democratic National Committee to urge them to seat the Michigan and Florida delegates. OK, I can do that. Sure. Here's what I fired off in under 10 minutes off the top of my head (giving my full name and email, so SOMEONE in Democratic circles will finally hear Gary's Voice of Reason; I'm hoping for a TV pundit gig from this)...

While I have issues with MANY ways delegates are allocated with the Democrats, the bottom line is that people voted in both Michigan and Florida...AND THEIR VOTES SHOULD BE COUNTED. It's outrageous in general that they wouldn't be seated (and Howard Dean is to blame for ALL of this...WHY is no one saying this?), but PARTICULARLY during this historic election year. *And splitting the delegates will solve NOTHING. Blah, blah, Hillary agreed to this set-up in October...who cares...not the point, and WHO could have forseen this close race?Oh, hell, while i'm at it, i'll just say it...CHANGE THE RULES! #1, caucuses are outdated and ASSININE. This isn't Little House on the Prairie times. #2, it should be WINNER TAKES ALL with each state's delegates, none of this ABSURD proportional nonsense. It's so unbelievably assinine to anyone with half a brain, it's hard to believe this is how people are being elected. Unless there's a snowball in hell today, I doubt my little email will change history, but I'm right, and I know it, and the Dems would be wise to, um, wise up in the future. SEAT HILLARY'S DELEGATES!!

The Silence

It almost makes me weepy. I'm kinda kidding, because in actuality, i'm too CHILLED OUT to weep. The serenity I feel is almost surreal. It's 3:45am and so, so, SO still. Wonderful! I've been a different person since Dipshit's Thursday evening exit. I feel guilty even leaving the house, so wanting to cherish every waking minute sans CHAOTIC INSANITY. I've done so much reading and thinking. God, I love it. I'll again state how I'm vaguely scared by how much I enjoy being alone. It certainly doesn't bode well for a marriage and family anytime REMOTELY soon. Or, hell, even friends. HA! Well, that's another story...that I'm too ZEN to get into. Grrrrr...evil suburban friends. I really don't get how so many people are intoxicated by another human being constantly by their side. OY.

And yet -- another rambling anecdote -- I got rid of an old Mossimo short-sleeve shirt today. Brought it to Goodwill. Damn, it used to look so good on me...fit perfectly snug, as so few shirts do. But it's old and I haven't worn it in years. And I need room for New Gary Clothes. So in trying to figure out what year I got that shirt (see, HERE'S the point slowly coming...), I found myself quickly leafing through endless summer pictures from 1996 through 2001. I'm SURE I got it in the 90s, but the earliest evidence is 2000. Still, that's 8 years. BUT...I found myself YEARNING for tons of people in my life again like I used to have. Wahhhhh...lonely Gary.

Let me be clear...it wasn't even necessarily the people in the pics I wanted BACK in my life...though certainly in some cases, that's true. Some I have no desire to see again. My point is...the ongoing tug-of-war between the bliss that I feel when alone vs. a genuine social DNA. But i've always been like this. Sure, I could go off in anger toward people who don't call, write, CARE anymore, or wax melancholic over old beach house people I'd love to see but HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEIR LAST NAMES EVEN ARE. But I'll just stick to the Solitary Unabomber vs. Social Butterfly juxtaposition I'm always battling within. 4:11AM...DARK AND SILENT...TV ON MUTE...LIGHTS ARE OUT...ONLY THE GLOW OF THE TV AND COMPUTER...

Friday, May 16, 2008

FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS

YAY! It's back on HBO! First I've seen it in months. SO fucking funny!! If you agree, you've entered a very exclusive club...Those Gary Relates To. Membership's free, so please join. There's only a handful of members. There may even be a field trip soon.

Um, who the FUCK doesn't lock their house doors?

So Tenafly, NJ had a gruesome triple murder discovery tonight. Everyone dead like a week, stabbed multiple times. Lovely. Just lovely. And then we naturally have the neighbors interviewed. "Shocking...just shocking...this doesn't happen here." And then this: "We don't even lock our front doors." Whoa, back up, what? I'm sorry, it's all very ideal and Andy Griffith Show and all, but you are a FUCKING FOOL if you don't lock your house up. I feel -- yet again -- like i've blogged on this before. Where the fuck is my blogging assistant to keep track?

We leave the doors open in my parents' house sometimes...during the day...when we're all home...and we don't live in Compton. At night and when no one's home, the doors are LOCKED. And chained, too. I can't even fathom this unlocked thing. Who ARE you people?!? I wouldn't be able to sleep. Did you all grow up in St. Olaf?! I have cousins who used to live near the shore around Toms River...THEY always kept their doors unlocked. Nuts. Though it was nice to know their door really WAS always open to me.

Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.'s voice

Damn, i'm good. The entire time he was just on Letterman, I thought his voice sounded very odd...like early-onset Kate Hepburn, almost. I thought maybe it's some odd New England thing. So I googled him...found out he has spasmodic dysphonia, a disorder that makes speech difficult and causes the voice to sound quavery...in the words of Wikipedia, thank you very much. Oh, those nutty Kennedys...it's always something.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Bea Arthur's 86!!?!

This depresses me, too. She's now older than "Ma" was on THE GOLDEN GIRLS...which seems like it was on a couple years ago, when the reality is that it went OFF the air 16 years ago this month. And it's been a decade now since Frank Sinatra died and SEINFELD went off the air. How can this all be? I remember it ALL vividly. In fact, the only time I ever bought anything at DIESEL was the Thursday night SEINFELD went off the air. Where did the time go? It's also been 13 years since I've been to Florida...far too long.

Holy shit...my Summer of '08 JUST began!!

It's 7:12pm. About a half hour ago, Dipshit came home and I sighed heavily to myself. However, he then began a frantic scurrying about. I got increasingly excited as I distinctly heard a suitcase being ripped from his high shelving and thudding to the ground. My excitement grew as he began talking to himself. I then nearly had an orgasm when I heard a horn honk. And then...the official confirmation that had me barely containing my glee -- HE WAS LEAVING FOR BUFFALO...and until MONDAY!!

Now I knew he'd be going away at some point this weekend for work, but NEVER did I imagine it'd be for FOUR days!! Thus, I've already HAD my last weekend with him!! His summer house weekends start next weekend! OH, GLORIOUS GOD, THANK YOU!! Out of nowhere, i'm free, free, FREE!! My entire mental state...and I think physical, too...just improved instantaneously. A new stress-free era has dawned!! 7:05pm-ish, May 15th...the start of SUMMER '08!!

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

11:13pm, Dipshit recently got home...

And I know there's nothing more that I like to do after being out of the house for 14 hours than hopping on the phone. Yup, I really CAN'T bitch about people constantly on the phone ENOUGH. I HATE YOU ALL!! Let me remind you...90% of what you're talking about is POINTLESS NONSENSE. NOISE. Wow, two blogs using "90%" in one night. Here's a helpful hypothetical narrative of when you SHOULD be using the phone -- "OH, MY GOD, my car just plunged into a swamp and it's sinking fast! PLEASE, PLEASE help me! PLEASE!! I don't think I have m--" Use this example as a launching point for instructive conversations on phone etiquette in your own family.

"A person of interest"

Um, so you mean a SUSPECT? JUST say fucking SUSPECT!! Every time I hear this on the news, my eyes roll. And not JUST a suspect...but 90% of the time, the likely KILLER. Who the fuck are "the authorities" kidding?! What exactly is the distinction they're making in their own minds? Yet more idiocy.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Sue Simmons yells FUCK on live TV!!

I can't believe more than 24 hours went by without me knowing this. It took Letterman replaying it -- twice (bleeped, of course) -- to clue me in. Holy Christ, this is FUCKING classic! And yet again points out dizzying levels of idiocy and hypocrisy. So she fucked up...by saying...well, actually yelling FUCK during a 10:30pm promo. Who fucking cares?! Grown men and women offended by hearing the word FUCK. Who ARE you people calling into WNBC to complain?! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?! Get a motherfucking life!!
FUCK!
CUNT!
FUCK!
CUNT!
FUCKING CUNT!
Deal with it.

West Virginia, take me home!

My girl Hillary's won West Virginia by 41%!! Astounding...and yet more than likely too late. Or IS it? I still cling to the belief that truth is stranger than fiction and anything can happen. I won't get too into this now, but I must say, I was genuinely moved by her speech tonight. And I find the idea of her losing the nomination truly depressing. SUCH a chance for history to be made...and I do mean a female president, and again most Americans are fucking up. Blah, blah, Barack's black and that's historic, too...sorry, not as much as being female. But, wait, then there's the chance a white man in his 70s could win. A Republican, too. UGH. There's no scenario except Hillary winning the presidency that won't agitate me greatly. ALTHOUGH...if she's VP, yeah, that'd be cool, too...and potentially comedic and dramatic beyond words. Her tenacity is inspiring. I don't see it as delusion...I see it both as grit and praying for a last-minute miracle. Among other things. No matter what happens, this race itself has been historic, so i'll take comfort in that. Hillary Rodham Clinton will be in history books 500 years from now as a pioneer.

Yes, it's Gary AND Gregoire

A dear reader, seemingly a stranger (and i'm always delighted to know that total strangers are reading this), seemed slightly baffled by my use of "Gregoire" in yesterday's Detergent Blog. To clear things up, Gregoire is my French name, given to me freshman year of high school by mon francais professeur. I've used it for humor and covert operations ever since. It'll also be my porn name if things come to that. It's so much more exotique. Oui, OUI, madam!

Taunted by a parked BMW

I'm at the point where I see a California license plate and I get aggravated. I wanna wait for the car's owner to return and demand to be driven back to their home state with them. I'll split the gas money and supply scintillating conversation...well, that depends on the car's owner. I'd be happy sitting in silence, too...looking out the window and seeing our great country. Eating at diners and truck stops in the midwest, using a gas station's rest stop in Arizona, posing for pictures at each state's welcome sign. Yeah, that's the shit i'm talking about.

So it was yet another "heavy sigh" when I came across a CA plate across the street from my parents'. Then I was annoyed even more when I saw it was BMW. It couldn't be a Volkswagon? Expensive cars piss me off, too...even if BMWs are as commonplace now as Plymouths were in 1989. It's the average person's expensive car. The final insult was when my eyes drifted to the dealership location. It couldn't be fucking Eureka? It HAD to be Santa Monica?! Disgusted beyond belief, I averted my eyes and carried on with my own non-California/BMW/Santa Monica life.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Buying laundry detergent...for the VERY first time!

Yup. Seriously. Honest. I can't think of a time in my life BEFORE TONIGHT when I bought my own laundry detergent. College...sure, I had "my own"...but mommy & daddy bought it. After college, when I lived at home...same thing. When I moved out...um, well, I've just regularly brought my laundry to mommy & daddy's. HAHAHAHA, God that's funny. I can't be the only one who lives pretty close to their parents who does this. If I lived across the country, obviously I'd have bought my own by now.

And I've never gone to a laundromat, either...being forced to mingle with the hoi polloi at yet ANOTHER place...ugh. But in my ever-increasing yearning to be a Big Boy, I decided I'd start buying my own laundry goods, both to save mom & dad's money and also simply so I can Make My Own Choice about all the wildly intoxicating different scents they have. For my Detergent Deflowering, I picked...Linen & Lilies. A comforting image of whites rippling on a midwestern clothesline filled my head with this "flavor." Surely you agree?

Adding to the overall joy of this purchase was the price and packaging. You know they somehow now have reduced by like HALF the size of detergents...yet they do the same number of loads?! The catchphrase seems to be "2x." Seriously, it's fucking fantastic. Because Gary detests superfluous bulk. My Purex purchase tonight was a sleek, see-through 50 oz. container which somehow does 32 loads...SUPER light and easy to transport. Perfect for one of my many bags that I drape around my neck. Then there's the price. It's regularly like $3.19...on sale for $1.99. But you KNOW Gregoire had a coupon...$1 off this time. So HALF the size and less than a third of the normal cost. FanFUCKINGtastic! Could I have BEEN happier?! Well, almost...when I got 2 for 1 Loreal hair care products, plus had a coupon THERE, too. What normally would've cost $9 was instead $3.49. I got TWO for a dollar less than ONE normally costs. It was all nearly enough to make up for the fact that I felt like absolute hell...suffering through the worst "summer" cold in recent memory. Forget buying a house...I bought detergent!!

Sunday, May 11, 2008

The cemetery tour

Haven't done it in a couple of years, at least. So why not today, Mother's Day? It was on my way, too...logistics always being a plus. Two cemeteries, 3 graves. Both sets of grandparents and my aunt and uncle. Didn't stay long. Didn't bring flowers. Merely went. Checked it out. Spruced up some dead flowers and leaves. I mean, what else is there to do? I'm not gonna stand there talking to a headstone or the earth below like you see on TV or in the movies. Maybe if I went at night and was sure no one was looking, I would...but THAT would be rather creepy, no? Besides, it'd be considered trespassing at night.

Naturally, there were people pretty close by at all three graves, so I felt totally self-conscious. It IS Mother's Day, so it was rather hopping with activity...which annoyed the shit out of me. Even in the cemetery, I was screaming profanities at other drivers. Sorry, mourning or paying respects doesn't give you the right to be a stupid driver. At one point, the lane was BLOCKED, as some assfuck didn't grasp you park on ONE side of the narrow lanes. I was forced to peel backwards in a fit of rage.

Unsettling to see my last name on a headstone, that's for damn sure. Also realized my father's dad would've just turned 104...VERY surreal. And, yet, not THAT surreal. I mean, he COULD still be alive at such an age. Not like he'd be 120. Hmm, grandpa was rather old for his time when he had his first child...my father. Interesting. Oh, wait, that reminds me of a mini-scandal that broke 5 years ago...at least to MY ears...how my grandmother was my grandfather's SECOND wife. How amusing I'd totally forgotten that until now. Too much gossip to keep track of.

As I very well may have said before on here, it's a strange thing to have the cemeteries of loved ones so nearby. Depending on your outlook, it's either comforting or disturbing. It's probably easier for many if the cemeteries were miles and miles away...out of sight, out of mind. No constant reminders of the Big Awful Truth of where we all wind up. I'm not quite sure what I get out of it when I go. A part of me's oddly proud of myself that I merely GO...confronting that Truth head on. Then there's the paying respects part. Most of all, though, I think I just get an even firmer slap in the face about the swift passage of time. Hopefully, every slap spurs me further to seize the day.

One macabre/amusing thing that happened today was my realization, for the first time to my memory, that there was an "open space" next to my mother's parents' grave. DEAR GOD!! A wave of dread swept over me. Things you NEVER wanna think about. So, naturally, like a good Irishman, I brought this cheery topic up over Mother's Day dinner. "So is that YOUR plot?" The answer was, refreshingly, NO. They'd "thought about" buying it, but never have. I guess it's not easy deciding where to place yourself for eternity.

So that was about a half hour of my afternoon this Mother's Day. I know it's a very hard day for people who've lost their mothers, and I had that in mind as I spent time with mine...aggravation and all. I'm at the sad point where I'm consciously aware, while i'm picking out cards each holiday, that there's no guarantees any of us will be here for the same holiday next year. But daily life clashes with post-death regret. I try valiantly to appreciate my parents every day...even when they (often...and justifiably) annoy me. I know i'm very lucky to still have them. I'm more grateful every day, actually. The passage of time is GOOD in the seeing things from new perspectives sense. You just do the best you can in the moment, hoping for minimum long-term guilt.

I don't ask, yet he still tells

Dipshit shuffles in a mere 5 minutes after I get home. He asks how my Mother's Day was. I barely have the strength and patience for ANY kind of reply, so give him one of my mumbling, "eh, it was alright," completely non-interested in chatting ones. I barely looked at him, either. A couple awkward seconds pass. When it's clear i'm not RETURNING the query -- because I DON'T FUCKING CARE, and I don't give two shits HOW awful and cold that sounds -- he decides to fucking volunteer how his day was. It was a NICE TIME with mom AND grandma! YAY! Fucking great! Good for fucking you, Dipshit! Now shut the fuck up and slink back into your room, close the door, lower the TV volume, stay the fuck off your cell, and go to bed. I have NO interest in talking to you. Don't ask OR tell me ANYthing.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

I smelled DC today

Washington, DC, that is...if there was any uncertainty what I meant. I was in a PATH station, waiting for a train, leaning against some steel grate thing...when that smell swept over me. The smell of DC's subway, er, Metro stations. It HAS a certain universal smell, if you didn't know...rather unmistakable. What, exactly, it smells like...I have no idea. It's a GOOD smell, though. A smell that's signified fun! summer! (family) vacation! since 1983. Very comforting. A newish, clean train station mixed with diesel fuel, perhaps? I love DC...I MUST get back there this spring and/or summer. Love their Metro and its stations...so airy and sleek. Yeah, so that's the power of smell again for you.

*By the way, it's dawned on me this past week that it's now 25 years since the Summer of 1983. If I were you, I'd anticipate some kind of summer-long Anniversary Special in this here blog. Maybe contests and prizes, guest appearances, photo retrospectives? JESUS. FUCKING. CHRIST. A quarter of a century since 1983. To fully depress myself, I'll now state how that's like someone my age in 1983 reflecting on 1958. OH, MY GOD!!!!!

Friday, May 09, 2008

My First Holy Communion Day!!

It's today!! May 9th!! Ahhh, but what year, you ask? Let's just say more than 20 years ago. Ok, more than 22. I'm stopping there. Sigh. Very disturbing on so many levels...being able to remember what happened so long ago on a specific day. Maybe depressing is the better adjective. And today...all these years later...death on the same day. I should've known I couldn't get through a whole year without a wake and/or funeral. So damn close...11 months, I think. HEAVY sigh. It certainly was the perfect weather for my communion...totally May-like...sunny, balmy. Not like today...48 and pouring at 1pm...perhaps the worst May day EVER? More like November. I looked so swell in my white suit in the glistening sunshine, flanked by so many who are now dead. Glad you read THIS entry, huh?

You should see this bitch's suitcase

Well, that's just it...SUITCASE, not an OVERNIGHT BAG. I do speak of Dipshit's blonde Philly paramour. It looks like she's jetting out of JFK for a week. What the fuck? She's brought this same thing the past 2 times, too. She's staying ONE night...going out in the clothes she ARRIVED in. So what the FUCK is the need for this big, wheels-included shitcase? I'm tempted to go measure the thing for blog give-you-an-idea purposes, but that'd be wasting even more of my precious time. I'm surprised she didn't come with a hair and makeup team. PLUS, there's a large purse!!?! I just noticed THIS as I write this. Jesus Christ. Have I mentioned how much I can't wait for his summer beach house weekends to start in 2 weeks? I'm exponentially more disgusted by the day that I've let this happen to my life.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Can someone take me in tomorrow night?

I've just overheard a Dipshit conversation with his "babe" from Philly...something about "Penn Station tomorrow night" and "what time will you have to leave Saturday?" This would be the 3rd time in about 6 weeks that this stupid bitch has infringed on my space. Yup, she's coming...just heard it officially. Shoot me. Shoot me NOW. I'm actually more unhinged in theory over this...i'm in an oddly good mood now. And he's been pretty NOT on my nerves all week. AND I have only 2 more weekends to put up with his bullshit before his Summer Beach House begins. And, thus, MY City Beach House commences. Still, though, ANY time of mine wasted in my own fucking house working around some visiting bitch grates on my last fucking nerve. The best will be when he "casually" tells me soon that she'll be coming...um, as if I didn't fucking hear him? Can I respond, "so I heard" without sounding obviously agitated? No, instead i'll have to play dumb and mutter "OK" in my peppiest of tones. Haven't said it in a while...I fucking hate him.

*PS...got $1.88 Entenmann's pound cake (more than half off) tonight at Pathmark...went through the self-serve line...put my fucking pound cake in the basket (sorry, little SILENCE OF LAMBS joke) as instructed (actually, BAG, not basket), then when it was all done, I swiped my pound cake up and threw it in my gym bag, leaving the bag fresh, empty, and ready for someone ELSE. YAY! I did it again!! You know, that makes me think...I don't know a SINGLE ShopRite with self-serve lines. What the fuck, SR?! Get on the ball!

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

My landscaping resignation

I just handed it in. Well, I just emailed the woman who has retained me as her Landscape Architect since the summer of '05 to confirm my month-ago verbal notice. Yes, it was a mutually beneficial partnership, but it's time to move on. One more small step in Gary's Evolution. Please, no tears or goodbyes. Hey, I have my OWN plants to tend to now!

What the fuck's with everyone out front at 1am?

I go to bring the garbage out at 1am...and also enjoy the closest thing yet to a summery evening. It's VERY humid and still in the high 60s. So it'd be a nice night to have my first late night walk/porch sitting in quite a long time. The SECOND I step outside, some blonde bitch 2 doors down also begins descending her steps. ?!?! I walk west, she walks east, neither of us acknowleding the other...though it must be said I walked in the street so as to avoid an awkward/tense "do I say hello?!" situation where we were RIGHT next to each other on the 1am sidewalk. OK, good...peace and solitude, which is what I expect when I walk outside at 1am...

Until I get to the corner and see the grunting jogger I've spoken about struggling down the cross street, along with a solo man walking...also in my direction. UGH. So I go the OTHER way. I'm now heading north. My trajectory is like a fucking video game -- Pacman, if you will -- me looking to avoid humans yet KEEP moving. I then spy 2 men and a dog about 2 blocks ahead of me...but they're mercifully moving in the same direction as I am, so my solitude remains. But then I head east again -- I'm basically leisurely walking around the corner. When I get to the cross street and turn south toward my street again, I'm chagrined to suddenly hear motherfucking high heels. It's the SAME blonde!!!! She must've walked to her car or something. UGHHHHHHHHH!!

So NOW she's high heeling it fast on my ass and i'm TOTALLY non-fucking-relaxed. I was so bloody pissed. I can't let her pass me and risk another awkward moment, so now i'm forced to hustle back to my house. And then i'm thinking that SHE'S thinking I'M weird for simply walking around the corner for no reason at 1am. No dog with me. No cigarette. Ahhh, but I DID bring my favorite social prop...the cellphone. I pretended to be texting someone...and continued doing so as I reached my porch and sat down...on the top step, so as to be as far from her on the sidewalk as possible. I was NOT going inside before I wanted to. And she went inside. FINALLY! SILENCE!

Well, it would have been if I didn't suddenly hear a door opening to my LEFT. I jerk my head to see a young man coming out 2 doors down. Note that Blondie was 2 houses to my RIGHT. From both sides, they're getting me. WHY, JESUS, WHY?! So again i'm tense, waiting for HIM to finish getting something from his car. AT 1 FUCKING AM!! I'M supposed to be the only one traipsing around at this hour on a weeknight!! It's my ALONE TIME!! He was quick, though, and I WAS soon alone. But by that time, I was ready to go inside myself. Sigh. And that's tonight's ridiculously long anecdote about not a whole hell of a lot.

Earth-friendly grocery bag UPDATE

It won't be long before you're bored to tears by this. Wait, i'm writing for ME...not YOU. Or AM I? Intentions are starting to blur. ANYWAY, yesterday I went again to ShopRite...I mean, it'd BEEN 2 whole days. And again I have the one double-bagged bag...and this time, Checkout Girl bet me to it. She doublebagged 2 NEW bags for my 3 items while I fumbled for my cash. It turned out well, though. I went to a clear area, took my stuff out of the bags and put it in my GYM bag. THEN, I put ALL 4 bags back by the bag area of one line and walked out PLASTIC-free! How FUCKING special am I?

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

What the fuck is wrong with GARY?!

Gary, Indiana, that is. WHY is it midnight with no election results yet?! Motherfucking piece of shit, Jackson family, depressed steel mill city. Can I TELL you how many Tuesday nights i've wasted in the past couple of months between election results and AMERICAN IDOL?!?! I just have so much to say about this election nonsense. It's the same old shit as I've been saying for months. MONTHS. FUCKING MONTHS!!!!! Short-term, day-to-day memories...self-interested pundits...endless polls...Obama-loving fools...Hillary/women haters...archaic caucuses...moronic delegation system...IDIOT Howard Dean singlehandedly FUCKING UP Florida and Michigan...Hillary winning the NEEDED general election states. The ENTIRE way Democrats are nominated needs to change...but I have no faith anyone in power will actually do something about it. And this goes beyond me being a Hillary supporter. Seriously, I can't get started. It's so FUCKING GODDAMN agitating. But, again, WHY does it take all night to count votes in 2008??! WHAT is the fucking problem, GARY?!

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Gary starts recycling grocery bags!!

The day has arrived. Off to ShopRite I went after the free gym. I got a gallon of milk, 2 boxes of ice cream/fruit bar goodies, 2 yogarts, and a disposable camera...all of that at LEAST half price, except the milk, which was also on sale, though. But I digress. The point is, I also walked in the store with 2 previously given ShopRite bags...double-bagged into one. And then I confidently walked to the checkout line, ready to help save the earth.

The nice boy floated my items down the conveyor belt. And I whipped out my double-bags. And I...proceeded to get flustered. The fucking gallon of milk would NOT easily go into the bags without the bags being NICELY HELD OPEN BY THE HOOK THINGS that I've mentioned before. I finally got it in, as I also struggled to pay the guy in both bills and coins, then get my change and receipt as I frantically shoved the remaining items into my bag. I DID IT! I SAVED THE EARTH! I was breaking a sweat, mind you, but I did it!

It just goes to prove, though, what I bitched about last week. If I had trouble doing this with ONE bag, IMAGINE the slow-witted masses. One needs to consider the fact that I'm very conscious of moving things along, so others may not have as much trouble...but that's because they're totally oblivious to the fact that they're holding up a line. I was acting like someone was standing next to me with a timer. I'm surprised I didn't run to the exit. But it was worth it, dammit. Made me feel good not to receive yet 2 more plastic bags.

At the same time, though, I couldn't help but feel that none of it mattered. That it's all a bit ridiculous. I mean, do I really CARE ABOUT MY GRANDCHILDREN'S FUTURES?!? C'mon. The earth's gonna still be here in 100 years. And 97% of those around me won't be doing a damn thing to help, so why am I busting MY ass to avoid taking more plastic bags from ShopRite? Like I need something ELSE to be thinking about?! Well, I dunno, I'm gonna keep trying to do this, work out the kinks, trial and error...if only, I guess, to soothe my OWN mind. To ADD to the unbelievable mountain of evidence that i'm a FANTASTIC, forward-thinking human being worthy of canonization. Or, simply and unsarcastically put, because it's THE RIGHT THING TO DO.

How many times can the couple next door irritate me in 3 hours?

If you guessed 3, you're right. Let's recap, beginning with who they are...and i'm not really sure. I know the girl lives there and is relatively new to the apartment. Probably no older than 25. Today's the first i've seen her with a beau, who's fond of track pants today and looks like he's still in college.

So, FIRST they annoy me when I return from the gym and ShopRite and I see them on the porch. That alone would be enough...The Season of Porch Sitting creating awkward conversational/avoidance encounters for me. But they went further. I had to endure watching them make out as she draped her legs across her beau's lap. So that's all actually THREE strikes in ONE, but i'll just count it as one. This was at around 5:30pm.

Flashing forward to 8pm, as I take in the beautiful night air by going to my front window, I spy him arriving on foot out front, soon followed by her hustling with shopping bags. And then it got fun/agitating...they began arguing. Loudly. Not SUPER loudly; I mean, cops didn't need to be called. But very obviously having a spat. I heard the word DICK loud and clear come out of her mouth. Now I cannot STAND people who argue in public. ANYwhere. ESPECIALLY in front of your own house, where you're making an ass of yourselves in front of your neighbors. Have some fucking discretion and self-control. Because of this one incident, this girl will now be labeled Stupid Fucking Drama Queen Bitch in my mind. And i'll dislike her. I HATE public displays of affection and I HATE people whose relationship has to be a soap opera for others to view.

Which brings me to the THIRD thing this Heidi & Spencer-esque idiot duo did...make up. On the front porch steps, of course. Why go inside for ANYthing? So -- not that I watched the WHOLE thing -- they then proceeded to have the Long Dramatic Talk that deftly segued into long kisses and hugs and gentle backrubbing. ALL. ON. THE. FRONT. STEPS. Ugh. People, take it the fuck inside. I do NOT wanna see you doing ANYthing but walking in and out of your house. So, yeah, don't linger on the front porch, either...I don't need the pressure of deciding whether to acknowledge you or not.

First Saturday in May

I feel like I've used that title before...or something close to it. Anyway, I hardly even noticed today's "first Saturday of May"-ness. I didn't even know it was the Kentucky Derby today. I couldn't have cared less. Every year, so many are into this...and I'm left blank. And this coming from someone who HAS enjoyed many a day and night at the races at the Meadowlands or Monmouth Park. I have a penchant for SHOWing. But the Derby...big deal. I guess if you live down there, and it's sunny and 80, and you can dress like Daisy or Gatsby, it's fun. I've long identified with Jay Gatsby, but that's a whole other blog...or maybe even a series of them. Oy, i'm rambling. I've just been in a very odd, vaguely irritated mood all day, and to some degree, all week. I think it's the weather...it's pissing me off, especially coming off a 2-week stretch of temps in the 70s and 80s. The past week, it's been in the 50s mostly. Like motherfucking November. Bloody awful. I think I have SADD a few months late. I expect things to start to start perking up tomorrow...don't ask me why. Well, I could tell you, but it'd be excruciatingly tedious psychobabble. And you should value your time. Because it's our most precious commodity. 4:22am...is ANYone else still up? By the way, tonight was a perfect night for pound cake and hot tea.

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Tanning salons

OK, one more quick posting. Stopped at a light tonight, my eyes wandered to a tanning salon. And I thought, "is there a MORE stupid establishment to waste one's money on?" I can't believe these places EXIST as stand-alone operations. It FLOORS me that people -- YOUNG people -- take time out of their day(s) to go sit under cancer rays to achieve...what exactly? Listen, I love when I'm tan...in fact, I look fucking fantastic...like REALLY fucking good...damn, I have SO many great summer pics of me bronzed and Hollister-esque...but I ain't so FUCKING VAIN and THOUGHTLESS WITH MY MONEY and UNCONCERNED ABOUT CANCER that i'll go pay money when it's not summer to be artifically fried. STUPID, STUPID, STUPID. And the funniest thing is that most people who do it have dark complexions to begin with; they're not pasty Irish like me. Well, i've got some Italian (DO I!) in me, so I'm not THAT pasty. But these people look tan naturally, yet they're off to the ultraviolet coffins. God, it's so fucking annoying. I guess the moral of the story is that while I again admit to being incredibly vain and self-absorbed, it's in a "smart" and "non-tool" way.

4 months in...

The year's a 3rd over already. Sigh. So how's it going? Mine's been...wildly fluctuating. Pretty good. Some bad, but overall, pretty good. Chaotic, but (I tell myself) in that "yeah, but once things settle, things will be so much more clear" way. Or ZEN. Or whatever. May. Fucking MAY. What the hell? I mean, i'm glad...i'm sick of winter. But MAY? By the way, there was...seriously...4 FEET of snow in one town in South Dakota today. And a blizzard warning for NW Kansas. Are you FUCKING kidding me?! Not just flurries, or a light dusting (which, yes, can EVEN still happen in NYC at this time of year), but a MONSTER snowstorm...on May 2. Thank you, but I will NEVER live anywhere that can receive heavy snow in May. I'm here bitching about the fact that it's been 55 and rainy all week...i'm certainly not dealing with SNOW. I'm a fan of freak weather, but that's just too insane. This also proves my long-ago theory that you can't reliably travel by car cross-country until June. I still can't get over it...FOUR FEET of snow in one South Dakota town on the 2nd of May. So, yeah, my mind's chaotic right now...getting things done...and I know I am...yet (as usual) feeling like i'm not getting ENOUGH done. And so aware of the tick, tick of the clock. And ENDLESS examples of life's fragility giving me pause, inspiration, depression all at once. Not to mention an intense & somewhat ironic time-wasting need to scour the internet for information about certain said examples. It's super late so I'll stop now. Too much to say. Here's to May '08! Three weeks till Memorial Day Weekend!