Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder: July 2005

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Like a goober, I thought my flight left at 9:45 a.m. when it actually leaves at 9:45 p.m. Oi.

A much more peaceful night's sleep, thank god. Wow, I was a mess early yesterday, just because my AD had worn off. That's fucking scary. So I can't function without them, it seems. I do know that I've only been able to function "normally" since I've been on AD's, which has been for three years now. It's my shrink's opinion that I'll always need some kind of assistance -- and right now medication is what's available -- because my brain never learned how to regulate all those chemicals during my development.

Okay. Yesterday I went to get a pedicure, because (a) I've never had one and I was curious to see what they're like; (b) I want my feet to look nice for the trip; and (c) just because. The pedicure was nice, really nice. They had a foot bath that filled and emptied for each customer, was nice and hot and had lots of jets. The chair was one of those massage chairs, which at first was a bit rude because it kept poking me in the butt until I adjusted the controls. The foot massage was divine. I think I'll have to go regularly because it's the only way I can get foot rubs and oh boy how I've missed them. They didn't pumice as much as I usually do, though, which surprised me, but they did a job on the cuticles, which I usually ignore. Unfortunately I got talked into a manicure and an eyebrow wax too. While the cuticles on my hands needed much attention, I hate nail polish. By the time I got home it was all dented and fucked up so I took it off (I've got nail polish remover on hand because of all my dolly stuff). My eyebrows, in my humble opinion, look fine au natural because they're not too thick and well-shaped. When she suggested a wax, I thought a slight touch-up might be in order, and I told her not to take off much, but now my brows are much thinner than I like. What a dumbass, I'm never doing that again. They'll grow back -- hopefully. Anyway, if I make pedicures a regular thing, I won't be talked into that other crap again.

And thus, my ventures into the world of femininity. Quatsch!

Newman's carrying around one of those rabbit-fur mice. It's so cute!

Holy crap, I've got so much to do. I still have to pack. As a result of my emotional meltdown and/or the advent of my period, my face has broken out -- crap. I'm taking an arsenal of tampons.

Monday, July 25, 2005

I feel like I've been dead. I forgot my Effexor yesterday (rather, I couldn't remember whether or not I'd taken it and I didn't want to double-dose) and I slept for twelve hours straight, having the most vivid, graphic dreams. They were so highly detailed with complex, interconnecting weaves. Dude, if I could tell stories like that, I'd make millions. My books would become a canon cornerstone, like The Lord of the Rings. For the second half of the night I was dreaming some medieval legend-y stuff. For the first half, it was some weirded-out, pseudo-military, naval thing (I still have "flashback" military dreams). There were all these full-circle explanations that took place over long spans of time. Well, the longer I stay up, the less distinct my recollection becomes.

I was on Accutane in 2000. That, and the stress and depression resulting from my divorce, caused my hair to fall out. It was down to about 2/3 to 1/2 thickness at one point, and it's never quite recovered. It seems that as soon as I regain some hair growth, it goes through another spate of loss. I'm in a "losing" state right now. Sure wish I could have my hair as thick as it was, but oh well. There's more important things.

I'm gonna be gone for a week at the Las Vegas dolly convention. In addition to the convention stuff, I hope to meet up with some old friends who've since moved to Las Vegas, including Peggy and Shannon. Seems like lots of people I've known gravitated there, like Kerry, the copy guy I was talking about several entries back. Last I heard, he was going there to become an elementary school teacher.

Anyway, I leave tonight and don't return until next Monday, and I probably won't have internet access during my absence. I've got Anne, my dolly buddy, coming over a couple of times to check on the kitties. Poor kitties, I don’t want to be away from them for so long. I know I said I'd have to cut my association with Anne, which makes me a big hypocrite, but what I think my approach needs to be is to remind myself that what she says is a result of whatever her issues are and have nothing to do with me. She's cranky sometimes; she's older and has a lot of health problems.

Sometimes I realize that I haven't made nearly the progress I would like in undoing the conditioning of my upbringing, in regards to my outlook on situations and other people. I don't want to be some gullible, naïve Pollyanna, but I don't want to be a completely self-defeating, negative, suspicious trog like my mom, bless her little heart.

My typing's for shit right now, so if anything slips by the cracks I apologize, she said, as an electric dizzy spell whizzed through the left side of her head, a result of Effexor withdrawal.

Oh and Jesus Christ, I've been dreaming a lot about my ex lately -- WTF?! He'd been blissfully absent from my dreams and my thoughts for the longest time -- why now.

Yesterday I re-read a February 2004 issue of Oprah, which contained many articles of interest. One of them was on recovering from devastating breakups. One thing mentioned was, what was it, "...savoring his good qualities is essential to maintaining a balanced view of what happened." Well, I married a man who had no idea who he was as a person. When he met me, he donned a new personality to see how it would fit, and guess what, five years later he decided it didn't. Instead of being direct, he had affairs behind my back and acted like an asshole so I had no choice but to confront him, but I still didn't learn about his infidelity, or the extent, until much later, both through direct evidence and piecing together missed clues. Honestly, I don't see what's salvageable about that: all our time together, all the good things, it was all a big lie.

An example of a sign figured out long after the fact: I was in NYC and had an appointment with a tattoo artist. Over the phone, the ex, back in Seattle, asked very specific questions about what time my appointment was and how long it would last. So, you see, he knew that I wouldn't be calling during that time and he arranged a "rendezvous" (a stupid word if I ever heard one). When I returned and showed him my tattoo, he "had to" take me immediately, and it was rude and coarse. Afterward he couldn't look me in the eye; instead he said, "what?" Of course the reason he had to fuck me was because the tattoo reminded him of the time he had with his ho-bitch-scag-skank. That was, by the way, the last time he fucked me and the last time I had sex for nearly five years.

GodDAMN, why am I going here. There are times I don't feel healed at all; meanwhile, he's carried on with his life many times over.

I'm due for my period, so that might be a factor.

Another article in the Feb 2004 Oprah magazine was an interview with Jennifer Aniston, wherein she talked a lot about her relationship with Brad Pitt. She loved and trusted him implicitly. In hindsight, it's sad, and it makes me so angry. Angry at Pitt for leaving and angry at Jolie who, just because she's beautiful and sexy, doesn't have the right to go after other women's husbands. I know this is none of my business and that I'm projecting my own situation onto theirs, but still. I think in some men's minds, love is a transient thing.

And I'm supposed to have a relationship again? Make myself vulnerable again to this pain that nearly killed me? Chya. Career. That's my goal. Make a career that I love, that's emotionally, spiritually and materially rewarding. That's it. I've got nothing left over.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Okee-smokey, I printed off my "contact" cards (thanks P'Nut!) and they turned out okay. I would have preferred if the graphic image had been printed faintly, like a watermark, which was what I expected, but they're blindingly bright. No biggie. I'd done the word processing at home and then purchased the cards afterward, only to find that they've changed the format. Anyway, all's well.

What else going on. I'm about to starve to death. Nothing unusual.

Sorry for the scintillating post; I'm a bit out of it.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Groggy, trying to come to, but hey, I'm up before noon!

I met my English teacher yesterday for coffee. It was funny because I took some wrong turns, wound up in bumper-to-bumper one-way traffic with no chance to escape and I was late. When I got there, there was no English teacher. I was like, "oh crap, has she left already?" I described her to the guy behind the counter and asked if he'd seen her, but he hadn't. So anywho, I figured I'd enjoy a piece of cake and an iced cafe latte and wait, and if she didn't show up, so be it. Well, she did show up, was very apologetic, had gotten stuck in a meeting.

I really enjoyed my time with her. As it turns out, my "sexual identity crisis" was for naught, as she has a partner with whom she owns a house. So that's aiight. After a couple of hours we had to get going but she suggested going to movies together or something, which would be way cool.

Afterward I did a bit of shopping, bought this month's Vogue that features Madonna. I've been a fan ever since the beginning in 1983, when I was a junior in high school. She looks great. Had some work done, but it's very subtle and well-done, not MTM-scary. I might ask her for the name of her surgeon in a few years, ha ha.

One thing that English teacher suggested was printing up some business cards for the dolly convention coming up. See, other people are so much more business astute than I. I brushed off the notion, saying, "Oh, I haven't gotten that far yet," but shit, I could always buy card stock and print up my own. I have access to a color printer after all. I've had an idea for a logo for well over a year and just haven't made one up yet. Hmmmm.

Saw Batman Begins last night. Kicked royal ass! Go see it. I know that Katie Holmes is an easy target lately, but that tic she has, where she twists her mouth over to the side, irritates the hell out of me.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Man, I felt today that someone was conspiring against me. I spilled my bottle of Once Removed, which is no longer available in the acetone-free formula. Gahhh! It spilled on me, fortunately, and not on my dolls, which would have been ruined instantly. So I had to wash my jeans immediately. Other stuff too mundane to mention, kept knocking things over, tripping, etc. Yoiks. Was working on one doll that I thought was going really well and then it went to hell in a handbasket. Just when I really need to make some sales. How do artists do those fucking eyes?! They kill me! I've tried templates, I bought masking fluid, I just can't get it to work.

However, then I boogied a little to some 80's MP3's and came to school to see the end of my auction, which went better than expected, so I'm feeling better now. :-)

My eyes are shot, seriously. It's bifocal time for this kid. Or rather, not a kid anymore.

Gawd I'm out of it today. Was up past 2 a.m. this morning, woke up at about noon and just haven't gotten it together since. That's kinda a shame because I've got a lot to do prior to leaving for the convention. I'm a wheezing mo-fo today too, with dizzy spells because I must have forgotten my meds yesterday.

Feeling anxious about the money I've spent. I'm such a dip. The new phone and Bluetooth headset arrived; each has its own separate charger. Counting my old phone, I've got chargers out the ying-yang. My 5x magnifying lamp arrived today and it's da bomb. Gotta paint paint paint to make it pay for itself. 'Bye.

Mike's worn out his welcome. I don't even lust for him anymore.

Monday, July 18, 2005

OMFG, I love New York:

Make Sure You Don't Spill His "Thetans"

Girl: Do you know if Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes will have a Scientology themed wedding?...I wonder what that would be like?
Guy: You probably kneel down on the altar after the vows, suck L. Ron Hubbard's cock, and then pay him for it.

--L train

Overheard by: Aaron Booth

Hey, this is fun! I logged onto the German eBay site and sent off a couple of questions to sellers in my faulty German. Neato! I'm checking into Petra dolls, which are Barbie clones. I had one when I was a kid, given to me by my Oma, but she "went away." No, contrary to what one might expect, my mom didn't toss her when I wasn't looking. She actually boxed all my childhood dolls and sent them to me once I got out of the marine corps. When I opened the box and handled the dolls, waves of depression threatened to drown me; they brought back sensory memories of my childhood. I gave almost all of them away to a friend who had several daughters.

Confession: I don't floss. I hate to floss. Naturally, this brings about concern for my dental health. I've never used Listerine before, but recently I bought their new whitening pre-brush rinse. I like it a lot. It whitens, but it also seems to take care of plaque and my gums are healthier even after one week. Good stuff. I like pre-brush rinses better than regular mouthwash. I'll bet you can make your own pre-brush rinse at home; the Listerine contains water, 8% alcohol and hydrogen peroxide.

Found a great place to get the oil changed in my car: Sears automotive. It cost me $21.99, rather than the $30+ at lubie places. Schweet! That's one thing off my conscience, because it's a task I tend to put off.

So there are today's product recommendations.

It turns out that I've got space at a selling table at the convention, so that's a great way to get rid of extra dolly stuff lying around the apartment. I'm gonna be a painting mo-fo, too, both for the selling table and for eBay sales prior to departure. I'm gonna make my dolls regular hoochie-mamas.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

We've had lots and lots of rain over the past few days, and it's wonderful.

Last night I missed the last showing of Batman but saw Willy Wonka instead. I loved that movie! Thought it was awesome. It's been a long time since I read the book, but I think they were pretty faithful, with a few timely updates, but only a few. The wry, deadpan humor of the book was a good match for Tim Burton. The casting was excellent. Johnny Depp lost himself in the role, as he usually does in geeky roles that downplay his devastating looks. It was not unlike his Ed Wood, and I could almost hear him say, "I'm a cross-dresser." I admire that about him, that he doesn't take himself so seriously; he's not afraid to look silly (could you see Tom Cruise in garters?). The kids were great: Verucca Salt, Violet Beauregarde, Augustus Glump, Mike TeeVee (especially well-played), and of course, Charlie. Helena Bonham-Carter donned some fugly teeth for the role of Charlie's mum, which cracked me up, but she's still so absolutely gorgeous. Beautiful voice too.

The movie left me with a taste for creamy, German milk chocolate, but I have none. I wanna cram it in my mouth like Augustus Glump did. I think I'll make some fudge brownies.

Newman was just crying. He had a poo hanging off his butt by a long hair. My dogs used to do that too. Speaking of fudge.

I couldn't help comparing the movie to the first one with Gene Wilder. I missed the red rooftops of the aerial views, since that version was filmed in Germany. I also thought Verucca's father was better in the first one. I kinda missed the Oompa-Lumpa songs, which were iconic, much like the Wicked Witch's army marching song in the Wizard of Oz. I wouldn't have expected the Oompa-Lumpa songs to be the same, though, and they were pretty hilarious in the new movie.

Okay, I'll shut up about Willy Wonka now, but I will say that very few movies make me laugh out loud anymore, and this one did.

1:36 PM

Took a nap. Now I'm showered and about to run some errands.

The other day I went to the art supply store and exchanged that paint that I'd bought that I already had. The woman at the counter was a serious prune. She made some snotty comment like, "You're down to the wire on this." I didn't know what she meant, and she said, "Well, you bought this on the 26th of June!" The store has a 30-day return policy, and I had something like ten days to go, so I don't know what the old bitch was complaining about. But what pisses me off is that I let her talk to me that way instead of defending myself.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

Got a call today regarding Heidi, the cocker spaniel I found. That's been, what, a month ago? Well, it was a really little kid who could barely talk, and I could hear her mom prompting her in the background. Now is that creepy or what? Putting your kid up to inquiring about an abused and neglected dog, a month after it was lost. Christ. Anyway, I told them I'd turned Heidi over to the SPCA. To hell with those stupid people.

11:28 p.m.

I'm tired. Spent most of the day messing around with a doll I put up for acution, and auction too. It always takes me longer than I anticipate. I think I'm gonna go see Batman.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Key lime pie makes a pretty good breakfast. Don't even need a plate, just eat it straight out of the pan.

Cool, got some thunder out there. Maybe we'll get more rain.

I found a magnifier lamp that has 5x magnification -- my visor only has 3.5x. Schweet! Maybe it'll be easier for me to do my work.

Also sent away for some book on airbrushing. Free shipping, Amazon rulz!

Peggy, my pal in Las Vegas, hasn't gotten back to me yet in regards to my crashing at her place later this month. However, it turns out that a dolly friend of a dolly friend can't go to the convention due to illness, so I'm hoping I can get her place at the hotel.

Why do people say "at convention" instead of "at the convention"? As in, "We'll be out of town that day, at convention." Like in the U.K. where they say, "in hospital." Little language quirks like that fascinate me, but I must say that I'm firmly entrenched in the American English way of saying things. I lived in New Zealand for a couple of years and got irritated when people down there corrected my speech. "How ya doing?" I asked a little girl in my pottery class, and her mother corrected me: "How are you *going*." How ya going? That makes no sense. I'm going by bus, by train, how are you going?

I'm reading a British book right now, so I guess that's what brought it to mind.

Rainy and gusty outside. Nice.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

On the phone with Cingular Wireless. Note to sales rep: stop breathing into the mouthpiece. Damn mouthbreather. I'm getting a new phone and calling plan; they sent me a flyer with a special offer, so that's good. So what do I do with my old phone, a Nokia from a couple of years ago? Ustabe, the phone companies wanted them back, but not anymore.

One of my many vices is key lime pie. For years now I've had a recipe from one of those companies that makes sweetened condensed milk -- not Carnation, the other one. During the early nineties I made it so often I knew the recipe by heart. Now, I can't find the recipe and I had to reconstruct it from memory. I think I got it right. Might have added too much lime juice, and I couldn't quite remember if it was four eggs or three, but oh well. I've got a weakness for anything eggy, creamy and custardy. My favorite Haagen Dazs flavor is crème brulee, and I love egg nog.

Found the source of the smell last night: eggs. I'd bought a carton of eggs, set them down and forgot about them. Lord only knows how long ago that was. I guess what must have happened is, one of the cats stepped on the carton and broke the eggs, which would explain the suddenness of the stench. It was nice to have a simple solution at least, and I apologize to the cats for accusing them of barfing in a corner or something. I do not apologize to those nasty-ass refineries who are always soiling the air.

Finished The Bell Jar and I enjoyed it very much. Sylvia Plath's writing was very clear in addition to being strong; whenever I think of "recommended reading," I think that it's a hard slog, like I've found Virginia Woolf so far (I'll keep trying with her). Anyway, well shit, what can I say? It was Plath's first and only novel. I wasn't aware that she off'd herself when she was only thirty, jeez. What a waste. But if they'd subjected me to electroshock treatments, I think I'd off myself too. Here's to antidepressants {gulping down pills}.

P'Nut, thanks for the comment regarding the hanging sisal post. Bummer, I didn't know that. I think, though, that I can create a base of some kind with some scrap lumber and scrap carpet, maybe find something that'll weigh it down, and create a regular standing sisal post. Shouldn't be too difficult.

My mom's betta splendens is on its last legs. She's had that fish for two or three years, I can't remember, and they're not very long-lived. Before she and my dad acquired my two dogs, they doted on that fish like you wouldn't believe. Told me stories about its antics. She takes meticulous care of the tank, keeping it sparkling clean. Well, I want to get her a "designer" fish as a replacement, not some pet store betta. The only source I know is Betta Talk by Faith, where I've bought bettas before (at high prices). I know the investment would be worth it for my mom, since she'd take good care of it.

A cousin of my dad's, who I remember from early childhood, told me that my mother was obsessed--her word--with potty training me. That my mom would round me up to go potty minutes after I'd already gone. She was a harsh and unyielding mother, she was. I'd even use the word fanatical. It wasn't so bad if there was someone around to intervene, like my Oma or other relatives, but usually there wasn't.

My childhood has always been my ammunition for not having kids of my own, and I stand by that decision. I remember, even as a young teen, swearing that I wouldn't inflict this misery upon another living being.

On a more light-hearted note, my niece couldn't say my name and instead called me "A-a-ant."

1:39 PM

I'm eating taco-flavored Hamburger Helper and it's pretty good. Say yuck if you want to, but to me it's a home-cooked meal. Plus I figure, it probably contains the same ingredients as a meal at Taco Hell.

I put some diatomaceous earth in my Hamburger Helper. I couldn't tell it was there, beyond a slightly discernable grit. See, when I was in tenth grade, my biology teacher was Mrs. Hibb. That old biddy has no business teaching, she was out of her mind. At least a million years old. She had aborted human fetuses in jars that she made us pass around and told us the story behind each one ("that belonged to a 15-year-old girl who was on drugs and she tried to give herself an abortion with a coat hanger"). The students liked her, not in a complimentary way, but because she was so easily distracted from the lesson and would go off on all these insane tangents. On hickeys: "Girls, don't you let some guy suck on your neck. If he wants to suck on something, give him your thumb." On Adam and Eve: "It's not true that it's Eve's fault they got thrown out of the Garden of Eden. If Adam had any sense, he would have kicked her in the pants." But I think her favorite subject was worms. As in, intestinal, parasitic worms. She told us we all had worms. I don't know how many hours she spent talking about worms. Well, even to this day I sometimes fear, however irrationally, that I've got worms, so that's why I put the diatomaceous earth in my food, just in case. If nothing else, it contains trace minerals.

Some days I just can't organize my time. I like it when all the pieces of the puzzle fit together, like, I'll do this and then I'll shower and then I'll do this and this and this. But usually I'm like, I need to do this but I can't until I do this, which I can't do until I do that, blah blah blah. Today's a good example: I need to work on my dolls, but I need to go check my email before the end of the workday and there's a rush for the computer, but before I do that I should take a shower, but I'd rather go for a run before showering, but now I can't run because I just ate.

It's raining. I like rain. Like that Garbage song, "I'm only happy when it rains."

I try to like my SIL. I mean, sometimes she can be okay. But take Sunday, for instance. My mom and my brother let Niecey splash in the lake and Niecey's clothes got wet. Oh my gawd, call the militia. How many opportunities does Niecey get to spend time at a lake? Answer: not many. So SIL got all pissed that Niecey was wet, changed her clothes and then she was a cunt all day. I mean, y'know? I don't have time for people like that.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Lois has a story regarding being left in a car as a child. She reminds me that I have such a story too.

I was three or four maybe. All I remember was waking up in the back seat, startled to find myself alone. I was terribly hot. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror and there were droplets of sweat all over my face, and I started to whine and moan because I was scared. I think there were people outside saying, "look, that little girl is all sweaty." Then my parents arrived and my mom was overly solicitous, offering me a clear blow-up fish with bells in it. I remember her smiling at me so broadly and jingling the fish, when ordinarily she didn't smile or speak sweetly to me at all. I also remember being told abruptly to quit whining, they weren't gone very long.

Ah, parents. Gotta love 'em. Not.

Well, the appointment at urology wasn't so bad. No catheters. They had me pee down a funnel into a "flow meter," which measured the amount, velocity, and whatever. Next I've been referred to having an ultrasound taken of my kidneys/bladder. I guess I get to drink some stuff and then they watch it go through my system. I don't care, just don't go up my urethra.

Not much else going on. I'm lusting after airbrush equipment. First, though, I think I'll get a couple of books on airbrushing so I'll know more about what I'm getting into before I make the investment in all that equipment.

I hope that by the time I get home, whatever it was that stunk so bad will have dissipated.

Oh, I'm meeting English teacher Wednesday of next week. I got an A in that course--schweet!

I thought this was cute, and not inaccurate:

You Belong in Paris

Stylish and a little sassy, you were meant for Paris.

The art, the fashion, the wine, the men!

Whether you're enjoying the cafe life or a beautiful park...

You'll love living in the most chic place on earth

What City Do You Belong in? Take This Quiz :-)

Find the Love of Your Life
(and More Love Quizzes) at Your New Romance.

Something stinks so bad that I couldn't sleep anymore, and I can't find what it is. Sometimes the manufacturing plants around here emit fetid gases, what they call "events," but I stuck my nose outside and it smells good out there. Presumably the cats did something, but if so, they must have hidden it securely. I'm dyin', this is awful. I've turned down the A/C to get some airflow.

I've decided to whore myself out and give the next doll I do heavy eye makeup and exaggerated arched brows. That's what the collectors bid on. They no likey the fresh-scrubbed look.

Monday, July 11, 2005

I just found out that I bounced the rent check. Great. And since it's the first one of the contract, I might be in deep doo-doo. Crap.

Someone came into the business office marinated in her favorite cheap perfume. I'll have to leave.

Here it is, Mondee.

One of the relatives is into genealogy and she pieced together a family tree and put it together into a huge book. I wasn't interested in much more than the immediate family, starting with my great-grandparents, since I'd actually met them (they were born in the late 1800's). This lady is my dad's aunt, one of the great-grandparents' children, and she wrote lengthy recollections of her childhood. It all sounded very heart-warming, the descriptions of a time before television, with strong values, work ethics and the love of family and neighbors, blah blah blah. I almost bought it. I noticed the aunt left out some of the less pleasant aspects of the family history, such as the fact that my dad's half-brother blew his head off -- it just says he "died." Anywho, it would be interesting to sit down face-to-face with this aunt and ask her questions about the women's role in the family, how they were regarded, etc. Surely the sexual abuse went back many generations; however, I wouldn't expect her to be candid about that aspect.

I met a relative who's also named "Newpeep." What are the odds? My mom doesn't like her because apparently Newpeep was rude to her when she first came to the States and couldn't speak English very well, uhhh, like, forty years ago. My mom is notorious for never forgetting a perceived wrong. I liked Newpeep, myself. She's technologically savvy and plus she and I talked about our cats. She's got a siamese-tabby mix like Newman. I read in her bio that she went back to school at a late age and is pursuing her master's. Awesome! Maybe that's where I got it. Although, I suppose I should mention that my dad went back to school as an adult and earned his master's around age 40 or so. This Newpeep lady is, let's see, his cousin.

My mom and I had dinner by ourselves one evening and we were talking a little bit about my dad's history and she said that he went through some stuff that she wouldn't get into, but that Bro and I had to sit down with him and talk sometime. It all sounded very heavy-duty. It's funny that my dad is now talking about his childhood; for many years it was a verboten subject.

On another savory topic, I'm supposed to keep a pee diary today because my urology appointment is tomorrow. I must say, if they want to catheterize me, I will refuse treatment, because unless I'm flat on my back and have no choice, I will not be catheterized -- it would probably exacerbate my problems. Anywho, I forgot about that stupid diary so I'll have to make up the first few entries; they won't accept me at the hospital tomorrow unless it's filled out.

2:23 PM

Damn. I just got a UPS delivery, but it wasn't Joe, the hot UPS guy. I haven't seen him for a while so I asked if Joe was still on this route, and he isn't. Since they're building the new super-duper Wallyworld nearby, he requested a transfer, for which I don't blame him. But shit, no more hot Joe. I love a handsome man wearing glasses. I could have invited him in sometime under some pretext while I was wearing only my pink bathrobe, then I could have noticed him trying not to check out the outline of my bare breasts. I could have looked up at his face and taken a step closer, putting aside that electronic doo-hickey that records deliveries. He could have gripped me by the shoulders and kissed me intensely, slipping the robe aside and cupping my breast, caressing the nipple with his thumb until it stood rock-hard. Then we could have abandoned any hesitation or pretense. I'd slip the robe off and let it fall to the floor, unbuckle his belt and work at his buttons, feverishly tearing off his clothes. We'd fall back onto my couch where he'd plunge into me deeply, again and again, my hips bucking and my slippery-wet thighs gripping him tight.

I need to call Mike.

........................

The shipment was from the Tonner Doll Club. They've got a sale for club members of one free fashion Jane if you buy two, plus free shipping. I couldn't pass that up. I've already got the blonde, so I plan to repaint and sell her. The brunette, I'm keeping as is, because I like her much better in person than I expected to, red lips and all. I'm not usually a fan of red red lips, but hers are pretty. The redhead, I'm rerooting with a pinkish-red that resembles Shimmering Rose Jane to keep in my collection. I suppose I could try to bid on a Shimmering Rose Jane that turns up on eBay, but they're expensive, and since they're a limited edition doll, I don't feel free to let down her hair, etc.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Dude. I'm tired. Just drove to the campus on the way back from bro and SIL's. Mostly a good weekend at the family reunion. Not many people showed up really, but it was nice to see who was there, not nightmarish like I had imagined. Rode up there with SIL and niecey while bro rode up on his motorcycle, and that was pleasant. SIL and I had nice chats. Bro rented a trailer on which to strap the motorcycle for the ride back and so all four of us were in the vehicle today. SIL was totally on the rag or something, jeez. Both bro and SIL were sniping at each other the whole way. Niecey was being an insufferable brat too. Overall, I think I like the dog the best. So glad I don't have kids. I managed to sleep for most of the five-hour trip, thank gawd.

SIL can be really cool, but holy shit she can sometimes get on my nerves. She whines at my brother or else bites his head off altogether -- really needs to learn how to communicate her needs and wants. With her daughter, she gives in when Niecey starts fussing when she doesn't get her way. Oi. As I said, glad it's not my problem, but it does bother me.

"Wm" was at the reunion. He's the son of my dad's uncle, so I don't know what that makes him, a cousin removed or something, I dunno. He's probably about ten or eleven years older than me. When I was four or five and he was visiting my family, for some reason he was left alone with me and he called me over to where he was sitting on the couch, and his pants were down and his dick was out. I said, "Oh, are we going to play 'penis and vagina'?" which was what my so-called father called the "games" he played with me. Wm was flabbergasted, said, "You do this with your father?" and I said, "Yes, all the time." He looked chagrined and ashamed and zipped his pants. At the reunion, he couldn't look me in the eye, acted skittish around me and generally didn't hang around me much. I had no trouble with that.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

I misread the notice, they're inspecting the smoke detectors today. I should have known, they never give more than a 24-hour, as required by law, notice for anything. And why do they have to enter the apartment, anyway? They've conducted inspections in the past without coming in.

So what's in store for today? More tidying and cleaning. Clean out my refrigerator and throw away 90% of what it contains. But that's for after I've had my tea. Dunno why I've been drinking tea instead of coffee in the mornings lately, maybe 'cause it's easy. Heat water, throw in bag (PG Tips), done. Damn, now that's lazy. At least you won't catch me drinking instant.

I reckon I should stop by the art supply store to return that jar of paint I bought that I already had at home, but I think that'll have to wait until next week. I've got thirty days. I also need to do some baking. Going over to the bro's this evening and spending the night there, then heading east for a family reunion. Should be interesting, seeing the hillbillies I'm related to. Wonder how many of them are inbred, bearing in mind my relatives' penchant for incest. Some would have you say that nothing is stronger or more important than the bonds of family. I couldn't disagree more; I place no importance on relatives whatsoever. It's merely an accident of birth.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Because I'm a weirdo masochist who can't let things go and because I'm wasting literally hours of my time sitting in the computer lab on campus (when I don't even have classes), I googled the name of the managing partner of that firm from which I got laid off, fired, whatever. Nothing was given in the way of, who's still working there or whatever, but they did move office locations, which kinda freaks me out. Because I had this fantasy of waltzing into the old office sometime, casually dressed, fit, hair loose, makeup-free, to meet a former cow-irker for lunch and being able to say, "I have a degree and I'm working as a such-and-such." But now that'll never happen because they're not there anymore.

Today I talked to my shrink, who happens to be a lesbian, about my "sexual identity crisis." She was like, "Okay, back wayyyyyy up." So I told her the whole thing with the English teacher and that when I was twenty I'd had sex with a woman but only once and that I'm one of those people who fall somewhere in the middle on the Kinsey scale, etc. I feel calmer about everything now; it was silly to freak out. My approach is, just see where things go with English teacher (who I can't very well refer to as "E.T.," now can I). Sometimes things happen, sometimes they don't. At the very least, it'll be nice to talk with her.

Is anyone curious about my early sexual experimentation? Don't be. In my mind, it wasn't too much different from sex with a man, in that I didn't enjoy it very much. Back in those days, I engaged in sex compulsively, but with my sensations disconnected. Kind of a waste of time, but I didn't figure that out until later.

What a shock it is, to live in relative comfort. I actually covered up with a sheet last night. Surprising, how used I had gotten to the heat. Windows open, letting in whatever noise there might be, usually sleeping with nothing on and no covers at all, and not having too much trouble with it. Haven't had my caffeine yet, so I'm not quite coherent. Gimme dat. Now with the A/C on, I slept hard, as if drugged, with stupid dreams not worth recollecting.

Wow those cats are tear-assing like it's going out of style! So funny, zoom zoom zoom, up and down the length of my less-than-700-square foot apartment. I think Peep's already lost weight.

I've lost weight just from doing the cleaning these past few days. Isn't that funny? That's good, because I had Ice Cream Belly.

Have a shrink appointment today, must not forget that.

Bad news: with the windows shut, I guess the dust and cat hair is contained and my asthma is acting up. I've had to use my inhaler more in the past couple of days than I had in a while. Another reason to clean the place. Also, apartment management sent around a note saying they're entering the apartments next week for "fire inspections." I think that those are flimsy excuses for management to eyeball private living spaces.

I also asked Mike if he'd poke his head into my apartment this weekend to check on the cats and feed the fish. He didn't commit, so don't know if he will. No big whoop either way, and I think I might feel more comfortable if he didn't. I wouldn't want him to bring his friends over or something like that, so they can make fun of all my dolls and whatnot. I already password-protected this document and a couple of others.

Hey, you know what? You know that old wives' tale about if your palm itches, it means you're going to get money? Well, it's true, I swear. Yesterday my palm was itching and it turned out that in the mail I got the refund check for my cancelled class. Cool! And was that mega-quick, or what? I wasn't expecting to see that money for at least a month.

Newman's carrying around a mouse whose tails has been torn off. Awww. He's so soft and silky, it's like touching angels.

I want to reread that part of Little House on the Prairie, where Laura is forced to give her doll, Charlotte, to a bratty neighbor child and then steals her back after the brat discarded her. Ma actually apologized to Laura for making her give up the doll. In my childhood, and probably now too, that's unheard of, a parent apologizing for anything. It was like we were supposed to regard them as divine. It's so much nicer to deal with humans.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Made quite a lot of progress in my place but to the eyes of the uninitiated, it still looks like a health hazard. Guess I didn't realize the layers upon layers of crud and junk that built up. It's also slow-going since I'm cleaning and rearranging at the same time.

The air conditioner is fixed, hurray hurray, but only the central vent is working and not the auxiliary vents in the living room and bedroom, so the poor maintenance guy will have to come over and be exposed to my mess again. I've got the thermostat set at 80, as I'd more or less gotten used to the heat and anything else is cold. I mean, every time I go someplace, I carry a jacket or else I'll freeze to death.

Mr. Newman got closed in the dark laundry room for about an hour and a half while the rest of us took a nap together! I felt so bad. When I was in the kitchen I heard this faint meow, not even a loud strident one like I would have expected. Poor Schnoozer. He hasn't had a good run these past couple of days. They all detest the vacuum cleaner, for one thing, and Newman got a bath yesterday. He actually seems to look leaner -- did he lose that much hair? The other two will get baths as well. Clean house, clean cats. But how about a clean me? I stink.

Now that it's cool in here and there's actually free space on the floor, the cats are tear-assing all over the place. Good, maybe Peep will lose her gut.

I remember last autumn when I had all five of the kittens and they were just wee things, I had to lift them onto the bed and then we all would sleep together. Well, one day when we were taking a nap, I lay on my back and all of the kitties lay on my upper torso, purring and purring. With all of them there at once, it sounded like a helicopter landing pad.

I take pride in my English skills, but I still don't get "lay" and "lie." Had to look it up in the Gregg Reference Manual. Forgot I had that. Like so many things, looking at it reminds me of something deep-seated and unpleasant. In August 1998 I got laid off (or would that be lied-off? --kidding) from the accounting firm I worked for. Have I written about this before? Well, whatever, the lay-off was a thin disguise for a firing and it came about as a direct result of a conflict between the "proofreader," Karen, and me. I was a word processor, hated my fucking job of course, and the firm was stuffy, pretentious and old-fashioned, with thick lines drawn between the "staff" and the "professionals." At first I was friends with Karen, but after a while her negativity, constant complaining, and endless gossip got me down. The gossip was helpful at first in teaching me what was what at the firm; for example, I learned to stay on the good side of Stephanie, our boss, because of what had happened to my predecessor (something about how she'd defied an arbitrary and pointless directive of Stephanie's and Stephanie subsequently made her life a living hell, leading to her eventual resignation). Anywho, I tried to be mature and considerate with Karen and I thought the direct approach would be best (WRONG), so she and I sat down and I told her basically what I just said here, that I couldn't hang around with her if she continued to be so negative. Karen started crying, she said, "I know," but she didn't change of course. What did change was that she gossiped viciously about me to others. Big surprise there. This woman had no class, no decorum, and knew no limits. Know what? It was her lack of boundaries that made it impossible to hang around her. She'd go on at length about her toe fungus, for chrissake. Gross me the fuck out. Back to the story, I didn't handle things very well myself, felt persecuted at every turn. Even people who'd been friendly before became wary and distant with me. It finally came to a head when Stephanie called us both into her office (and she wasn't one to be bothered with what went on outside her threshold) and told us both to conduct ourselves with dignity and treat each other with respect. Couldn't argue with that. In the meeting, Karen was going on about, "I just want us all to work together as a *team*, to accomplish our *objectives*," blah blah blah oh puke my brains out. I put forth to them both that Karen was not qualified for her job as proofreader because her English sucked; both Anna, the other word processor, and I had far better skills than she (what it all boils down to is this: Karen was stupid--thick as pig shit). Karen consistently told us to change things from correct to incorrect. When confronted, she'd say, "Because that's the way we've always done it," rather than look it up in the Gregg Reference Manual. Well, long story longer, a few weeks after that, we got our reviews and mine was absolutely stellar; the managing partner spoke very highly of me. Stephanie herself said she'd never seen such a good review for a staff member. She asked me, "And what of the situation between yourself and Karen? Is it at a Mexican stand-off?" I said nothing and shrugged. And then a few weeks later I was "laid off." Grrrr, deep breath, deep breath. I can only hope that what comes around, goes around. It's over, it's not my concern anymore, and my job is to make sure I don't fall into a similar situation in the future.

The guy who worked in the copy room, Kerry, was studying to become a teacher. He was somewhat quirky but an alright dude. After Karen's concerted character assassination of me, I didn't know who my friends were and who wasn't, but one time I overheard something. I was passing through the copy room while Karen and Kerry were there. Karen whispered something laughingly to Kerry but he didn't join in. He said instead, "That's uncool." Karen, surprised, went, "What did you just say to me? Did you say I'm 'uncool'?" Yeah bitch, you're not only uncool, you're a steaming hot pile of cow shit. --No, he didn't reply to her. Anyway. Just goes to show, not everyone's a dick.

Monday, July 04, 2005

Nothing's gonna be open today, so I can't check my email and stuff.

I put down a big mixing bowl full of ice so the kitties can lay by it and be cool. Even the tile flooring in the entryway is hot. However, maintenance will be by tomorrow, which means that today I'll be cleaning like a motherfucker. I did a lot yesterday, mostly rearranging stuff and whatnot. Put away my Kelly collection, which numbers in the hundreds. I went insane over that doll. Moderation? Me? Never. I also put away the Laura Ashley doll house and other paraphernalia, full of teeny-tiny little props that the cats love scattering and eating. The space could then be used to store the myriad books I had laying everywhere, and spreading out my Tyler collection, which is crammed tightly together in a bookcase in the living room. I was also trying to figure out where to put my vacuum cleaner and steam cleaner since, as I mentioned, there's no storage in the apartment worth mentioning. I think I figured out a little corner for them. I keep fantasizing about having a sparkling clean apartment and having people over, which for years now has been an impossibility, except for Eduard, who didn't care, but the place has gotten even messier since he left. I need to steam-clean the couch, where we made love once, to get rid of the ghost of his presence. I already dug underneath the bed to get rid of the condom wrappers that were hurriedly and haphazardly tossed aside.

So far my new litter box, the one you roll to the side so the clumps can fall into a drawer that is then emptied, is a failure. This morning I discovered that the cats have been peeing on the litter-catching mat in front of it. Newman was crying in the bathroom so when I went to see what was wrong, he squatted right in front of me on the mat and emptied his bladder (hmph, who said animals can't communicate?). So I've got the mat soaking in lemon-scented Mr. Clean and I washed the floor with it too. I don't know why they don't like the litter box. Even though I bought the "large" model, the area available for the cats to use is fairly small, maybe that's it. But I figured that since it's easier for me to clean, it'll be kept consistently cleaner and that they'd like that. However, you can't have the litter too deep in there, and if the cats pee against the wall and the litter sticks, that defeats the purpose of it rolling free. If this litter box doesn't work, it'll be an expensive mistake. Guess I could always off-load it on eBay if that's the case. I'm just trying to make things easier for myself so that I can maintain the place.

One thing they don't seem to like is a sisal post that hangs on the doorknob. Too bad, I was hoping they'd use that to scratch instead of my office chair. They are nuts for those little rabbit-fur mice. Peep even laid one at my feet in an offering, which was very sweet.

Sunday, July 03, 2005

Whoa, I can't believe I slept so late. Really not advantageous. Had that ol' wee hours insomnia again. Maybe I should go rollerblading instead of jogging today, since I can't seem to make myself go for a run. Yesterday evening was perfect, what a waste, but sometimes the idea of all that bouncing and jouncing is too daunting. The exercise will help me sleep. Sometimes I forget that I have rollerblades, that I have that option. I think last time I bladed it was still cold outside. I just have to make sure to put a band-aid over the scar where the blades always give me lethal blisters.

I'm rambling a bit.

So this weekend is my fourth anniversary of not having a television, as I moved out of my brother's house into my own apartment over the 4th of July weekend, 2001. I'd moved to this city after the assassination of my marriage in February 2000 and lived in my brother's house, see. Funny how that happened; right as my ex was telling me he didn't want to be married anymore, my brother and his wife had the opportunity to work overseas and needed someone to watch their house and dog. Uncanny, really; like, you know that had to've been arranged by the powers-that-be.

So anyway, I don't miss t.v. I'm glad to be free of it. There's a couple of things I do miss, like South Park, say, but not enough to make having one worthwhile. And, typical addict, I know no moderation: if I have a t.v., I will watch it, nonstop. That's what I did when I was living in San Francisco and so lonely I felt like dying. But at least there, t.v. was good. Back then Frasier was just beginning, for example, and the local PBS stations aired some of the most fascinating shit, uncensored, as far as I could tell.

Whenever I start feeling bad about my acne scars, I need to remind myself of that poor young woman who has no face because of a drunk-driving accident. God. I've not no problems whatsoever.

I got a couple more Velvet dolls in the mail. One of them is in somewhat cruddy shape, a factory reject. She should never have passed quality control at Ideal, if they had any. The short hair on her head that's usually given a rude chop job anyway is so poorly and sparsely rooted that it's impossible to comb. The paint stamp gave her a crooked mouth, and she's got a cheek rub. I repainted her mouth, not a big deal, and I plan to reroot her head. I think that'll be fun, give her the hair that should have been hers from the factory. Her ponytail, surprisingly, is in terrific shape, sleek and not frizzy. I think I'm gonna steal it and give it to my first Velvet. My first is still my favorite, the one with the largest eyes of soft lilac. The others' eyes are a more violet color.

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Oh gawd, on a completely shallow note, I looked in the mirror yesterday and saw "old lady neck." I nearly shrieked! See, that acidic soap I use on my nether regions and to shampoo my hair is, I guess, too harsh for the rest of me and dries out my skin, so now I've got snakeskin. But I tell ya what, I'd never before seen a turkey gobbler on myself. I'm gonna slather myself with Eucerine cream.

I'd wanted to make use of Mike's magnificent cock, but when we were together last I couldn't let go and enjoy it. It's funny that I was able to let go with Eduard, but I was able to trust him. Mike lacks maturity [no shit, Newpeep]; sometimes I wonder how much of what he does is for show. Like, he tries to play tonsil hockey when there are other people in the vicinity, something I detest. Plus I have to wonder what he tells his buds. I knew that, despite all his flaws, Eduard didn't judge me negatively, and that's turning out to matter as well, since I know that Mike probably doesn't think I'm "classy," to use his term. He's dishonest, not by outright lying, but by omission. I guess in the end it turned out to be two people using each other for sex. While I've got no problem with that in theory, I find that it doesn't work out in practice, not for me anyway.

Again I dreamed of that actor-guy who was my classmate from fourth to twelfth grades. But every time I dream of him, he appears as he looked back then, not as he looks now. "Hey, 'Joe-Blow,'" I said nonchalantly, not even feeling jittery. See, the thing is, this guy was my yardstick for what I wanted in a "mate." It was the yardstick by which I measured my ex, who's about the same height and coloring. At the time I reasoned to myself, "It's the closest thing I'm going to get to 'Joe.'" What the fuck am I gonna have to do to quit dreaming about him, seek him out and have a word? Yeah, right, another nobody from his past who comes out of the woodwork now that he's famous. *snort*

Miss Peep is getting fat and I don't know what to do to control her weight.

10:52

The girl in the office is sporting bruises on her face and her arms too. I asked her if she's okay and she answered me with an elaborate story of how she was chasing her cats and they knocked over a mirror in her apartment and it fell on her. I don't believe her. For one thing, the story was too detailed, and for another, I witnessed she and her boyfriend having an altercation one night. I got the impression that he was the one with the power in the relationship and that she was completely cowed. I mean, he was screaming at her, very verbally abusive.

I got an email from Mike, wishing me a nice weekend. Thanks, motherfucker.

Friday, July 01, 2005

Uh-oh, depression's kicking in. When I was a kid I'd be depressed on Fridays and chipper on Mondays. Gee, wonder why. I think I'm down because class is over and the weekend -- and the summer -- loom before me, empty. I wonder if I can invite myself over to my bro's, but I hate to intrude. The SIL always has her family obligations going on and she and my bro never get to spend any time together. Besides, I'll see my bro next weekend.

Just saw Crash. A very complicated movie that makes me glad I'm not a film reviewer, because I have no idea how to describe it. It's mostly about race relations in L.A., I guess, with a lot of vignettes and intersecting stories. Definitely a movie with teeth, not your mindless summer fare.

I'd assumed I'd be seeing movies with Mike, but he and I have yet to see one together. His last exam was Thursday but I haven't heard from him, even though he said we should get together. I assume he's doing something with his friends and family. I'm thinking that when he calls next, I'll be busy.

Took that test -- man. We had a three-hour block and I didn't think I would need that much time, well, I did. Now my hand hurts and my head is empty. Mebbe I'll go see Crash or something. I might dash over to the li-berry and check out a book or two from English teacher's suggested reading list. I wonder how long it'll be before our grades are in ...

Had a fitful nights' sleep again. Today's the English final, about which I'm somewhat worried. But that's just test jitters. Had a dream that the pewter-colored kitten I tried to rescue, the one who bit and got away, was lying in a kitty pile with my cats, being groomed, and I was feeling relieved that they all got along okay.

Mr. Newman-Schneuman knocked over a bunch of junk in the wee hours, waking me up and scaring the crap out of himself. I picked him up and put him on my shoulder, where he purred and purred. I love when he does that. I wish he weren't so aloof.

Well, I have to be in class an hour early today, so I'd better get ready.

Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder