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Tuesday, January 30, 2007

DREAMS: Cats, Houses, BarRoom Moms and Punk Rocker Me

What a weird dream I had last night! But before I get to that one, I really should write down ones I had before that this past week. Many personal and business commitments have stopped me from writing here more regularly.

First dream several nights ago:

I dreamt I was with a bunch of animals, mostly cats. Persephone was there, but she looked more like a squirrel sans bushy tail. I noticed that her belly was bleeding (IRL, we had taken her to the vet's maybe the day before and they were drawing blood and trying to get a urine sample with a needle) She was meowing like it hurt. She was also playing with some other, much larger, cats, and I was afraid they were playing too rough with her. Later, Stan was there with me and we were on a bed. Persephone came up on the bed and kept meowing at me and she wouldn't stop. I started to wake up, and as I came to, I realized that her "meowing" was my nose making snoring/whistling noises.

Second dream a few nights ago:

I dreamt Stan and I moved back into the house we rented on Grant Street in Fort Collins. In the 18 years we had been gone, they had made the half-basement into a small apartment. Whenever I have reocurring dreams about that house, I dream about the basement a lot, and it always is bigger than IRL.

Third dream a couple nights ago:

Stan and I were walking on Peterson St. in Ft C. We were standing in front of the house we rented there. It seemed different, as did the neighborhood. More ramshackle. Later, I was talking to my mom, and she was saying something about how when she goes into bars, she likes to play the drums. I was really confused because my mom hates bars and would never play drums out of all instruments (she plays piano). Actually, I liked this new mom better, but I was really confused about the drastic personality change.

Dream last night:

It's like this backward progression of time, these dreams, from present (the aging Persephone the cat) to Grant Street (1985-1989), to Peterson Street (1985) to this: Pre-1985.

I dreamt I was a punk rocker. I named myself Night...Night Mere. I was wearing all black (well, I wear a lot of black anyway IRL) and my hair was short. I was angry and I was actually writing songs, something that I can't do tune-wise IRL. I was writing some song with a refrain (chorus?) that went something like "Yuppie Scum is the Hoi Polloi." The weird thing is that is a term I never use myself. In fact, this morning I had to look it up to see what it meant. I guess it means "common people", so I assume the song was cutting down Yuppies who think they're so special but they're not. Huh. I can still remember the tune, and I don't know if I ripped it off an old Clash song or what.


Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Some Reservations

Last night on "No Reservations" in Namibia, Anthony ate a pig's anus, and part of the pig's head that was cooked in the ground. He said it was the worse meal he's ever had, ever. I don't know, I still think when he was in Iceland, the fermented shark that smelled like ammonia would still win out as "worst food ever" in my book. But then, maybe it's because a long time ago, Stan and I bought a shark steak and when we went to cook it, it smelled like ammonia (we didn't eat it). That was most disturbing. And I've never had an experience with a pig's anus, so I wouldn't be able to comment. Stan has eaten chitlins...he says they smell awful, but they taste good.

The best meal Anthony had in Namibia was roasted beetles. That's how desperate the food situation was there. But when you think about it, what are insects, but land shrimp? And who doesn't love shrimp?

Despite this, I still got hungry during the show. But maybe it was the oyster farming bit at the beginning that set it off. Mmmmm....oysters. The perfect food.


Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Black Velvet Karl Rove

On Ebay.

It's painted by the artist Ramirez. (inside Ann and Stan joke). Heh.


Smells and Foods

Why is it so hard to find wood scents anymore? Like with candles? I got a gift card from Tim to World Market, so I bought a Teak Candle with it. It smells great, and it seems like scents like that are really hard to find anymore. Everything smells like sweet food and fruit. And although I love Yankee Candle (got their catalog today with scented pages...much fun), they're really lacking in the musky, spicy wood scent department.

When I was in Junior High I got some perfume at Walgreens that came in little compacts. It was waxy and you rubbed it on. I had three different sets, each with three different scents....the lemony flower scents, the grass scents and the wood scents, which I liked the best. It had patchouli, sandalwood and amberwood... or something.

I have this reoccurring dream that I'm walking "home" and pass a drug store in midtown Fort Collins (I know exactly where this is, and there's no drugstore there). I go inside and there's all these costume jewelry rings, nothing expensive, so I buy some. It's this weird liberating feeling, like I wanted to do it a long time ago when I was young, but wasn't able to. This probably explains why I have a ring collection. Things once denied are now a source of indulgence, like food.

From now on, we will have a supply of sushi from the grocery store on hand for emergency monday night sushi cravings while watching Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations. I get so damn hungry watching that show because he's always eating something exotic and intriguing, and usually seafood oriented which reminds me of sushi (I thought I heard him say Sea Urchin when asked what his favorite fish was, but maybe I just thought I heard that because that's what I wanted to hear). Last night he was eating geoduck (which looks like an overgrown schlong in a shell...literally) and both Stan and I got so hungry (and this was after eating a dinner of yummy scallops!) that we raided a bag of Cheetos. How pathetic is that? Fortunately, the week before I had some left over mussels so I was able to eat those while watching. Next week, we have to be prepared ahead of time.

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Thursday, January 11, 2007

The Madness of Little Ceasar

I suspect my hate for him is stronger than any hate I've had toward anyone who's done me wrong personally. More than Sasquatch, more than Bitch. It's not a personal, emotional hate. It's an intellectual hate. It's a hate I feel that connects with the hate of the majority of the world.

There's got to be a way of removing someone from power when all the other means have failed. This Ceasar isn't functioing with a full deck. Not only is he a pathological liar (Hmmm....isn't that what they called his predecessor when he fibbed about a freakin' blow job...!a blow job! and it was such a big thing worthy of impeachment (or so thought the repugnicans back in the 90s.) but he's lost any compassion for the American citizens he will be putting in harms way again. He is a bloody sociopath. We need to get our priorities straight. Something needs to be done. This has gone too far.

It bothered me that Pelosi said there would be no impeachment on her watch. Why the hell not? This administration is a trainwreck, and it needs to be stopped before the whole country derails.


Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Dream about Ann

Admin. Edit: (posted by Stan, not by Ann)

I was talking to Ann and trying to tell her that I loved her, but she wouldn't listen. Then we were watching a this red head woman running around really fast and sort of crazy like she took too many drugs. She left and I tried to talk to Ann again, but she had turned into an abstract painting and couldn't hear me. I ended up sitting in a restaurant booth with Ann 'the abstract painting' waiting to order some food.


Friday, January 05, 2007

Art Opening Dream

I was at my parents' house and they were having some weird party there. Most of the people were younger...20s-40s. They were doing remodeling (yeah, right) in their basement and they had this weird toilet installed that looked like a trashcan, hence it made it really difficult to sit on. It also wasn't in an enclosed room, so one had to use it in the open. I hate toileting in public dreams. Then later, many of the people at the party took my dad's old Volvo to go to an art opening at the University, which seemed more like the UW. The volvo's seating was was more like a stationwagon in back with the seats down. Hard to explain. I sat up in front, but there was no cushion on my seat. I think Stan drove, and Tim was with us. The art opening was on an upper floor of some building, but it looked more like a classroom than a gallery. I assume it was my own art opening, but I can't remember any art there. I do remember some catered food which looked like cupcakes elaborately decorated with colored frosting to create very beautiful peony or rose flowers. The creepy part about the whole thing was that Sasquatch was there, and I remember thinking, "how can he be here if he's dead?" He was talking to some other art professor, male, tall, dark hair, probably had facial hair, one I recognized (not the Chicagoan, if that's what you're thinking....this guy was younger, maybe in his 40s). They never said a word to me, even though it was my opening. Some officious-looking woman with her hair up in a bun came to the room, but went into a back room which looked like an office. She holed up in there to do some work. Stan and Tim went outside because they got bored, and eventually Sasquatch and Son (hey, maybe that's who the guy was) left, never having said a word to me the whole time. Pretty soon the only ones left were me and the worker bee in the back. I decided to try one of the cupcake flowers, but had a hard time getting it out of the muffin tin. I was getting antsy, and didn't know when Stan was coming back. I decided to try to call him on his cellphone, hoping he brought it with him. I tried dialing, but instead got my dad by accident (this is easy to do IRL, since my parent's "quick dial" number is in between Stan's quick-dial work and cell numbers). He seemed a bit irritated that I had bothered him at what was a late hour ~ 8:30pm. I try Stan's cell again, but nothing happens, not even a ring. I'm considering going out to look for them myself, but didn't know if it was allright to leave the art opening room unattended. There was Ms. Busy Bee in back though, so maybe it would be ok, but then I see Stan and Tim come back. Stan is acting silly, and looking at Tim's butt in a very gay way. I'm having a WTF moment. Stan also looks younger and tanner. And I honestly can't remember what happened after that.


Thursday, January 04, 2007

Oh Freakin' Hell. Again.

Just great. No, not a normal morning after last night at all. Seemed to start out normal and all as I was laying in bed this morning trying to wake up, except for the distant sound of a very large truck. Hmmm...what sorts of large trucks come into our neighborhood? Why, moving vans, of course. Could it be the neighbors moving? Yes, their day is here today. OK, no big whoop. See, that house has a weird curse on it that all the inhabitants stay for no more than about 3 years...usually around 2...and it's not a rental...these are ALL homeowners. The owners of the houses on either side have been here forever...we've been here going on 17, and Lyle and Anne have been here...god, 25 or something massively stable like that.

I remember the only time Stan and I hired a moving van company was when we moved cross-country. Other times it was just moving things by car or rent-a-truck because it was in-town. Our moving van, Northern, I believe, was operated by a husband and wife team, which in a very strange way I romanticize...working with your spouse and driving cross country...what could be more romantic. Oh yeah, there's the heavy lifting...yeah, maybe not that romantic.

No efficient husband and wife team today, unfortunately. Just LOUD PEOPLE. I'm not sure how many young males are on this crew, but it's as noisy as a city high school bus stop, one of which happens to be right in front of our other next door neighbor's house. But this is much worse because it is RIGHT NEXT TO US. (Only a few feet separates our house from these neighbor's) Yes, it is that loud and obnoxious. Just move the damn furniture. Yeah, that testosterone-fuelled cackle is really necessary. What could be so fucking funny about our neighbor's possessions. These guys are all on crack. Note to self...don't hire American van lines out of Madison if you don't want cackling crackpots moving your stuff.

The upside is that the house is only 1200 square feet, they moved in 2.5 years ago, and it's just two adults and a baby. That means they can't have that much stuff to move, so hopefully this will not last too long.

Or you can just shoot me now. Again.


Wednesday, January 03, 2007

WTF--Must be the Full Moon

Go to the post office. Stan can't find his wallet, and it turns out it's in my bag of pakages I need to mail. I wave it at him through the window in the building, so he comes in, but not soon enough because he gets separated in line from me by two VERY EXTREMELY TALL WOMEN who weren't even there together but just happened to separate us, making it extremely hard to carry on a conversation with him while we're standing in line. It was just odd, but not as weird as what was to come.

Decided to try the horrible Willy Street Co-Op--yes, attention Trust Fund Eastsiders, I hate your fucking store! It sucks, its clientelle suck, they are rude, and the only thing nice about it was the fact there was a small Seafood Center (Seafood Cove) branch there that I just found out about, which was a reason to check it out (I was searching some major sushi porn on the web last night trying to find out where to get fresh seafood in Madison, so I came upon it that way). The employee working at the The Cove was friendly and helpful, which was probably the only thing stopping me from running out of there screaming like a madwoman.

First of all, it's a very small parking lot, so we were waiting down a narrow parking alley on the side of the store for someone to pull out when this little teen/20s bitch pulls up alongside our van and pulls ahead in front of us! Now, it'd be one thing if she could exit out the other side, but NO, there is no exit, so what she did was essentially cut in front of us to get to a vacating spot faster. As we pulled into our spot (finally) she was walking toward the store past our van so we pulled our windows down. I gave her a good long stare and Stan asked her "Hey, what were you trying to do pulling ahead of us like that? We were waiting in line for a spot just like you!" She sort of shrugged her shoulders and continued walking like nothing was apology, nothing. Bitch. I wanted to egg her car.

So we found the Seafood Cove and were waiting for the people before us to finish. I feel a very strange thing on the top of my head, like someone touched me, or perhaps wafts of drafty air. I turn around and there's this woman so close that she's breathing down the top of my head! Since she was so close, and since I didn't realize someone was behind me, as I'm turning around I manage to slightly bump her with my arms, and she still continues to breathe down my hair. Mind you, this was not some deranged greasy-haired moomoo-wearing smelly baglady with no concept of personal space, although I wished I was because that would assure I wouldn't have some snooty bleached blond middle-aged pushy yuppie breathing on me. No, from all appearances, this was someone who seemed like she should have a good understanding of personal space requirements, but I guess she was absent that day at school when that subject was covered. It's not like there were equally pushy hair-breathers behind *her* forcing her into me or anything. WTF. But then, and I swear, it's something in the food at Willy's that make people think they're the only humans on earth and every one else is just a holographic projection...these little kids start running up by the seafood glass case right in front of me (and I'm standing RIGHT UP AGAINST the glass case). I mean they are crashing into me, making my purse swing and hit them, and there were NO PARENTS, I repeat NO PARENTS around. Not too soon they flew off in another direction (not without first knocking into me again several times) to a different part of the store where they were probably going to partake in more of the hallucinogens that makes them think they are the only people on earth and everyone else is a holographic projection.

And what about the very pregnant woman whose stomach was totally oozing out of her pants up nort here in the beginning of January?!? WTF? Yes, I know it's warm for January (if you call 45 degrees warm, which I do because it is Wisconsin) but STILL!!!! It's freakin' WINTER! It's like wearing white after Labour Day, but worse because it involves bare flesh. Now I could see if it was summer, ok, I can take a little naked mommy belly bulge. Or if she was a 400 lb trailer mama, yeah, I could understand it's sort of hard to find maternity clothes or afford them. But no, she was like a 110 lbs. soaking wet *AND* pregnant urban hipster trust fund breeder with goofy student deadhead granola 100% all-bran clothes, and I guess she was just so enamored with her whole wheat designer pants that she couldn't dare to part with them during the pregnancy and buy some very untrendy but comfortable maternity pants at Target because she had her granola duds unzipped and her next of kin was bulging out down there. Yuk. I'm not a prude, but some flesh fashions are just gross.

Oh, but wait, the day's not over yet.

We returned home to what I was hoping would be a peaceful evening, until I discovered the calendar my parents sent to us for Xmas was for 2006.

Just. Shoot. Me. Now.


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