My God...

I have dropped the ball. I promised I’d be writing more, and find myself, instead, writing less and less. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I’m not drinking so much right now, which tends to bank the creative fires. This is due to my frequent mood swings of late caused by job stress, and my need to hoard money like some sort of little Midas (very little, in fact,) preparing for stagflation. My job is genuinely in trouble at this point, the John Deere opportunity may not pan out, and I don’t exactly have much in the wings. I am worried, and have had to be very careful not to take it out on Orpheus. He has been amazing through the entire process, and we are still working out well despite my frantic pleas last week to break up with me so he wouldn’t “have to worry about what comes next.” I hate panic attacks. Especially suicidal panic attacks. They make me feel less than classy. And, frankly, haven’t I been through enough?

My Mother would respond that it is all part of God’s plan, and she feels for me and prays for me, but that I should just keep trying. It’s hard for me not to tell her that’s hogwash. I want kids someday, but frankly, life sucks so much so often, I don’t know if I want to lie to another human, one that trusts me implicitly for even a short time, that everything will, in fact, be OK. We get a spare modicum of pleasure in this life, and most of us (me included,) squander the shit out of it. The rest of our time is spent working like slaves. An entire race of beings shouldn’t have to pay the fare for bad decisions on diet made by two semi-divine simpletons and one angry god… Or, you know, any of the actual sins of our in-fact ancestors, like being poor, getting exiled from this or that land, etc., etc., ad nauseum.

I suppose that the point of this rant is one that you’ve all read before. I’m really, really tired. Exhausted. And I just have to keep going, because if I stop it’ll make everyone that I love and everyone who loves me at least a little sad, a little empty, and take some speed off their rat-races. These are people who have been there for me, so it’s only fair that I’m there for them. I guess I just need to figure out the mental equivalent of DM’s coffee.

In the meantime… Bleh.

The Dress of Michelle Obama and sundry...

It seems that the “I’s” have it… The Nation has walked out on George W. and his cadre of insane, inane Neo-cons. Despite the fact that I am still not entirely comfortable with Barack Obama, I couldn’t help feeling good about the way all that voting went, yesterday. For me, the outpouring of faith in the power of Democracy by countless youths and minority groups signals the beginning of the end of the tyranny of scared, small people over the fate of folks (like me,) who’ve made alternate decisions about they way they live their lives. This could mean anything from a biologically driven difference like sexual orientation (it’s not a choice, breeders, any more than it is for you,) to the hard decision that you are not ready to have a child that “just happened,” whether in our out of the bounds of a relationship. This is the end of the era of being scared that, yes, my neighbor will gladly strip me of my rights due to fear of using them him-or herself, the end of being afraid of the long, slow backslide through women’s lib, racial and sexual equality legislation. But it’s only the beginning of a new era…

What scares me, now, is that we are in a terrible economic situation that we will have to willfully spend our way out of, with little hope of putting a good muzzle on Senate and House Republicans who will complain to high Heaven above about taxation without representation and all that kind of rot. Worse yet, as Obama is trying to forge a new pact in a Washington broken by the Young Turk Republicans in the ‘70’s, we have to put up with it and give said assholes more concessions than their actions will ever warrant. Our Supreme Court is literally lousy with the kind of radical conservative legal revisionists that would make a Shari’a Mullah blush, a problem more than worth its’ own weight in fat Mid-Westerners. Eight years of mismanagement under Fearless Leader, and more years of retrospectively unwise deregulation under Clinton have left the leadership of our business community stupid, spoiled and degenerate in profit motive. Further, the middle classes have all but disappeared, education is on the wane, and the average work week has gotten so long that maybe, just maybe, Conservative freaks have a point when they talk about moral decline in today’s youths… I mean, if parents can’t spend any time with Jr., strike the fear of whatever into him/her, then of course the little shit’s ‘gonna act out!

My point is, we have a lot of work to do. I wish our President Elect well, and hope to find a way to help going forward. We'll all have to swallow our pride to get underway. Our country has been divided for too long, has forgotten how to talk across the aisles, make gentleman’s deals. Don’t give up, cheering crowds, when you finally see how much you’ll have to sacrifice, please… Otherwise you’ll be letting everybody who saw these costs before you even got excited, like me, down. We can’t do this without the energy and hope you brought to the great undertaking of electing, GASP, a progressive!

On a completely unrelated topic… Did any of y’all SEE Michelle Obama’s dress? Damn. Hire a stylist. I mean, if Sarah Palin, a CC (Christian Conservative) cow from Alaska can dress like she dresses without any of Michelle's poise or intelligence, what's your excuse, First Lady Elect?!?!

Skipping towards Gamorrah...

I am a living ball of stomach acid every day. Last night, I went to the bar with Orpheus, and had a neat conversation with the bar tender about beer. There’s a new place in town, apparently, that has over 15 rotating Belgian Ales on tap, and no crap-beer, either. I’m a little titillated, honestly. And my alcohol consumption is up, so there’s that. It was a good night of snuggling, and more sleep than usual, but I still woke up around 6 AM. Plus, Aries got her one-month warning yesterday, and that’s horribly upsetting... Especially since I’m probably going to go on an action plan today or tomorrow, myself. However, she and I are doing dinner tonight, so that should be slightly palliative.

I wish I got comments once in awhile. I wish I could fly. I wish that I had several hundred million dollars in an off-shore account, or at least some bullion stowed away somewhere. (I figure, if I’m wishing, I might as well wish big, you know.) Really, though, I just want enough to keep going as good or better than now. I’d prefer better, but with the country going down the shitter, that might be asking too much. Good luck to you all. Hell, good luck to me. It can’t hurt to wish it of oneself, can it?

UW Homecoming Sucks...

The noose is drawing tighter. I am more tired than ever just walking in the building here… But today, I didn’t need any help to feel like crap before braving the door to my workplace. I woke up at 4:30 AM, and didn’t officially get back to sleep. I just stayed in bed dozing for two and a half hours, waiting for the alarm to sound. The cruelest aspect is that, as per routine, I hit the snooze button once before getting up, and got so close to falling back to sleep I could almost taste it. Right now, I’m sitting zombie-like before my computer, wishing to God for something to happen that would get me out of the building. I can’t wait for 1:30 so I can take a nice nap over my lunch break! The one weird thing was the tense sci-fi dream I had while dozing.

It was some f-ed up b.s., too let me tell you. It was a near-future type setting where nothing was really different except a single piece of game-altering technology that makes almost anything possible… Practically cost-free long-distance teleportation. And I’m talking over stellar distances, too. In the dream, my Mother was, for some reason, set to teleport into the orbit of a distant planet in a shuttlecraft that looked suspiciously like a late-model Honda minivan (Lay aside your cries of “H. Ron Hubbard!” for the time being, please… At least my spaceships aren’t in the form of ‘60’s cargo planes). Given that Mom’s primary talents are musical performance, teaching, and making people physically ill with her lame mom jokes, the plot seems a bit fishy, but bear with me…

In the dream, I was a violinist of note. For some odd reason, I was in the control booth when Mom’s shuttle was to teleport, and it just never arrived. However, the personnel in the booth didn’t ever admit that she’d just teleported, or that there was anything wrong. The rest of the dream was an action-packed bureaucratic paper-chase type drama in which I eventually forced the Grand Poobahs of teleportation to let me follow Mom on a rescue mission… Yes, that’s right, I was a “violinist of note” in a silver space-suit driving a Honda Orbital Shuttle. And that’s when the alarm rang.

Just when I was having a real Solaris of a dream… Actually, given that particular resonance, maybe it’s better that I never finished dreaming. I don’t like blood or madness too much, overall. The weekend itself was pretty cool, though, weird dreams aside. On Friday night, I went out with my co-workers for a couple hours, and it was a neat night. I drank too much. After that, I picked up Orpheus, and we returned to my place. The worst that I can say is that traffic was HORRIBLE all weekend long. Every time I drove, I ended up in a foul mood afterwards. Friday night was no exception. We settled in for the night, and didn’t get to bed until really late… Unfortunately, for no great reason. I made quiche for gaming on Saturday morning, and will likely be repeating that particular method of prep again. I sautéed the onions and red pepper before adding to the pie crusts. It made the quiche tastier, as the onions had time to carmelize and soften… it also made the quiche less wet, which is a good thing, overall.

Gaming was fun, as we all video-conferenced with Bulgaria before starting to play. It was nice to see him in person. He’s already lost weight being at home! The quiche was a massive success, even if I couldn’t roll well to save my soul. Goddamn gaming! ;-) On Saturday night, O. and I just kind of hung out and did nothing, as scads of drunk, nut-job pedestrians ignoring walk signs had made it their duty to try and get killed by my vehicle at various points in the day… Homecoming crowds are rarely on the best-behaved. Sunday was nice… I made chorizo and eggs with potatoes for breakfast, skipped lunch, went to a reading of a kind of pastiche of “best of” posts from Craigslists’s personals and missed connection letters put on by Basso, then cooked a highly successful dinner for O. We had a lot of sex afterwards. Hopefully, this week will bring better things. Otherwise, I may just consider giving up. ;-)

Interview Two, Current Job Zero…

Today, I had a real awful scare. I had a phone interview for a great job at John Deere Credit lined up when a meeting was switched up on me, time-wise. I had to call HR at JDC, let them know what was going on, and wait nervously for a new time to be phoned back. Fortunately, the supervisors were free at noon, but that still meant I had to go to lunch AT NOON. I never go before 1:30 PM if I can help it. The meeting I had to rush back into the building for, of course, was cancelled with absolutely no warning! That has meant I’ve been stuck on the phones since 1 PM, literally a slave to the dial. However, when I think about it, I have two fifteen minute breaks coming. I think I’ll take one sooner than later… That should redress me for time lost!

The interview went OK, but not as well, I think, as my face to face a couple weeks ago. I hope I get the job. It may be a significant pay cut, but I think it’s worth it if I can think about work and not want to throw up. At least, I hope that will be the reaction I have to the job. I’m fairly confident that I have all the required skills that they seek, and should fit it well at John Deere. There are a lot of folks I used to work with there, already! Here’s hoping I get the damned job.

Tonight after work is finally over, I’m headed to the bar with work friends here. Somebody left the company for a better job in my department, and it’s a well-wishing trip. I think my immediate boss, Cigar, wants to talk to me there. Hopefully, he has good news about JDC giving him a call re: me. Who’s got two thumbs, is nervous as hell and is on the verge of tears about his work situation? This little monkey!

F*$! 'em!

So, it’s kind of funny… I was just talking to my immediate supervisor. He’s the guy who hired me on here as a temp almost two years ago. Poor Cigar (he smokes one almost every day on his 45-min. drive home,) has suffered more than almost anybody else since the new ownership came in. They took away his Sales Management position, broke him to supervisor, forced him to collude with the CS trainer to create a training program for the new sales team, and almost completely ignore his wise suggestions for survival in this particular industry… The environment under Cigar was wonderful. We all felt like a big family, and everybody was there to help. Now, I’m not saying that I loved it here, but I did like the people, and at least the workplace was a supportive environment. You know the current story. Every day is a long slog full of self-loathing and desperation at the moment.

Anyway, I was talking to Cigar, and he told me that he’s had three jobs on offer in the last month. He’s narrowed his options down to two possibilities, and would like one more than the other, but is just waiting to see who gives him the better offer. I told him about my flirtations with John Deere, and he promised me a good recommendation, thank God. I don’t know how much more nail-biting I could possibly do before drawing blood at this point. Either way, it’s nice to talk about exit plans when your day is this bleak.

I hope the new owners burn in hell.

Tonight, tonight... On the West Side.

Last night was fun, except there was still no sex in the champagne room at O.’s. It was nice to just snuggle a bit. It seems like he’s coming down with something… At least, he smells a lot more than normal in the morning, which usually means that something’s off. He worked late last night, so I had a long evening at home before coming downtown. First time in a long time I used my 8” (21 cm.) knife. It was nice to get reacquainted! It was freezing in the apartment (we haven’t yet turned on the heat), so I made something a little fatty… I browned a chicken breast with pepper and paprika in olive oil, about six minutes a side. I then added onions, turning constantly until a touch carmelized, turned down the heat, and threw in a coarsely chopped tomato. A couple minutes later, when it had given up some water, I salted, and added minced garlic. After that had all been cooking for a few, I put in thinly sliced cremini mushrooms, a chiffonade of fresh basil, and a splash of lemon juice. I let it all cook until the mushrooms were done, then served on a bed of fresh spinach with freshly grated parm.

Now, next time, I’m going to put in more basil, and seasoning in general. I’ll probably also grate a little carrot into the sauce, to sweeten it up a touch. There will also be about half-again as much mushroom going in. But DAMN was it good!!! Tonight, there will be a little tomato sauce experimentation at Casa de Aeffchen. I’m basing it on shallots, and this time, I’ll seed the damned tomatoes, too. Other than that, nothing much to report. I anticipate that it’ll be another freezing-cold night at home, as today’s a “day off” with Orpheus. I hope he gets some stuff done. Hell, I hope I get some stuff done… It’s been a bad month for that. Also, I’m going to masturbate until something dies (either my libido, or me… Whichever gets off the bus first). I figure it’s time for some self-love, if my man isn’t dishing.

Knock-down, drag-out tired...

Orpheus and I had a rough night yesterday. It’s more of the same argument where I say something’s wrong, and he says it’s OK on his end. The problem is, it’s not OK. I’m tired of having to talk about the same things over and over, nothing ever changing. I wish I could say that I think things will change, but that would be a lie. That joke where the bum asks for change, and the Buddhist quips, “Change comes from within,” isn’t terribly far off the mark. Some of us are restless, and others are wasting our talents, our lives, our educations just to settle for second- or third-best. O. isn’t second- or third-best, but his job and attitude on art currently are. He no longer has the excuse of classes to force him to write, which means that he’s paying student loans off for training on skills that are atrophying. I may not be in a great place myself, but I’m trying to get into a better one, both for me and for him. I want to march forward with my bard, not look back, but it’s difficult when he’s stalling in place. There’s only so long to wait before I’ll be forced to move for myself, and the clock is definitely ticking.

Because of the fight, there was no sex, because there was no sex, I didn’t sleep terribly well, because I didn’t sleep very well (and, let’s face it, because there was no sex), I feel like a pile of dirty change rather than the million bucks I should be blinging to the rafters. Plus, we had flu shots in the office today, and that nurse stuck me like she was holding a long-standing grudge. My delt is sore, my head aches, it’s too warm down in this subterranean hell I call a workplace, and I’m busily expecting a call from the good folks at John Deere Credit regarding a position that will make a bad dream of this job. I want to go home and pull the covers over my head, wake up employed elsewhere with a huge savings account, a paid-for car, better clothes, no fat lesbian roommate, and weekly maid service. That would help immensely. Oh, yeah, while I’m busy fishing for universal peace and happiness, I could also stand some credit debt relief!

Furthermore, I made the most awful “tomato sauce” last night… I peeled the tomatoes alright, but didn’t seed them. And I added bay and rosemary instead of just going for the basil. It tasted like really bad ratatouille, god(des) forgive me, and there’s really nothing good about that. O. did make a delicious garlic bread to go along with the pasta, though. He just softened a ¼ c. of butter, blended with pressed garlic cloves, and spread it on bread. Wrapped the bread, cooked it for about 10 min., and then broiled after grating fresh Parmisano Romano over it… The one problem was the flimsy baking sheet, which “popped” in the oven, putting the edge of one half the garlic bread to the broiler directly, which edge caught fire. I blew it out before there was any real damage, but there was a little scorch on an otherwise perfect dish.

Hurry, hurry, hurry, I’ve got rice and curry!

Wow. So, yesterday wasn’t bad. I’m wicked pissed at Terra Firma, my roomie, for the way she ignores me in the apartment, but couldn’t bring myself to be mean yesterday, as she fell and hurt her elbow pretty badly… Right on the selfsame spot that I drove gravel into my right palm in the summer of 2007. So, instead of bitching her out for completely filling the freezer (excepting for a single bag of green beans and one package of meat that belong to me), I gave her a blueberry lager with an absurdly high alcohol content. I feel like I’m being too nice, lately. She still hasn’t cleared out the goddamn boxes in the living room, either.

Anyway, O. continues to be so very sweet. But he’s not writing much, and he still hasn’t found a circle to write with, and the documentation for his loans remains missing. He did post yesterday night regarding his disappointment with the Booker Prize and and Nobel Lit winners, which he explained whilest I puréed roasted eggplant as a sauce supplement for my curry, which itself turned out as lackluster as a Dungeons and Dragons serial novel. The one high point was the tofu I used instead of my normal pork. I drained, pressed, and froze the small pieces before marinating with peanut oil w/a touch of roasted sesame oil, and hot sauce. While it was frying, I added a bit of tumeric. I fished the pieces out when just golden and firm on both sides (they were thin pieces, so cooked through instead of needing to be cooked on EVERY side of a cube), and added them back to the curry to warm through while waiting on the rice. The curry stank, but the tofu was harmonious. I’ll have to try it with a simpler sauce in the future!

After we were done with dinner, O. and I headed downtown, to his place, as he works today. We watched the sequel to the Rocky Horror Picture Show, which sucked rocks, but happened to have the dude from Dame Edna as a main character sporting a German accent. Afterwards, still in something of a daze, we watched some ‘Dame Edna Experience’ episodes, which were far and away more entertaining. We got to sleep pretty late, and Orpheus forgot in the morning to hit the snooze button the right way. I was seconds away from being late for work as a consequence! At least I got a little more sleep than usual, which was VERY nice.

Please excuse the title of my post… I came to know “Dr. Bombay” during my horrible club-music phase in college. My roommate at the time gave me all his trashy euro-pop mp3s after discovering I liked them so much. He said, “You listen to so much serious music all the time, it makes sense you’d love this trash on some level, even if you hate yourself a little bit for it!” Unfortunately, he was correct. And I find myself, like the main character of the song, unable to foist said terrible curry off on anyone. Pray for me…

Slipping dangerously...

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m wickedly depressed, and that I’m wallowing down instead of reaching up for help. I’m attempting to spur Orpheus to action, and feel as if that’s getting nowhere. My job search, though I had an excellent interview yesterday, is languishing, and it becomes clearer and clearer every day that I won’t be here much longer. Desperation isn’t romantic, nor is it productive. Desperation drives stress, drives angst, drives disunity in body and mind. I’m going mad, I’m horny all the time but am too lazy for sex more than twice a week, and I find myself increasingly not cooking! Further, I am again entering a phase where I ignore important documents coming in through the mail, or, more disturbingly, forget that they came for a time. I’ve been here before, and it is, overall, NOT GOOD.

The drinking is mostly curbed after a horrifying weekend of being sauced with the ex-f-friend on Friday night, then sauced with O.’s work friends on Sunday. Last night, I made delicious chicken stuffed with bread crumbs, crushed pistachios, minced shallots, and raclette, seasoned lightly with paprika, and the whole wrapped in bacon. It tasted marvelous, especially when served with honeyed roast mashed potatoes, but I nearly lost it when, about half-way through the process of putting the wrapped breasts together, I tried to open my knife drawer and the drawer stuck. I ended up yelling at it, and repeatedly yanking it to the stick point so hard that a couple of the lighter knives jumped out of their slots in the wooden drawer-bloc. O. came into the kitchen to stop me, I was making such a fuss. Worse, I’m snapping at him all the time, and having creepy-ass mood swings. I want security. Is that so goddamn much to ask!?!

I’m tired. Tired of working for nothing, tired of being horribly dissatisfied with life because of my job, tired of just about everything. Tired as SHIT of not being able to work up the energy to clean my goddamned bedroom. What the fuck is the point, anyway? And anti-depressants will just make me fatter. Life is fucking cruel. About the only good things I have going right now are, of course, my Orpheus, and the show he just introduced me to… ‘Pushing Daisies’ is amazing, and a small spot of brightness in the fucking car wreck that is my existence.

Love Sucks…

This week has unequivocally blown donkey balls. Work gets worse every day, and Orpheus and I seem to be floundering. We had a very uncomfortable discussion online Wednesday, which ended with O. offering to make me feel better, but still really wishy-washy on what HE wanted, yet again. I, of course, spent the night with him even though it was supposed to be our night off, and nothing changed, despite his promise to do a couple things immediately (that never, incidentally, got done). Who knows… Maybe he completed his mission today. Either way, we’ve agreed that tonight is to be a night off, if only because a former f-bud of mine is in town to visit, and Orpheus really doesn’t like him. The one good thing about all this is that he trusts me to sit down with said former f-bud without taking off clothes, so that’s good, but I abhor taking weekend nights with O. as off-time…

After work, I have to rush home, quickly clean things up a little, and start making dinner… This for a guy who is in the hospitality business, and had an excellent culinary education. Hopefully, the wine I picked doesn’t suck, even if it is supposed to be a good pairing for a savory chicken pie. At least I know that dinner itself will be wonderful, but after this week, I have to say, I just hope I don’t make the filling I’m caramelizing into a savory marmalade of despair, a-la the pickle-making wife in Midnight’s Children. Then, it’s off to the bars. Blech. I don’t need any more alcohol, I think… Possibly ever.

Monday, I have an interview… At John Deere (no, I’m not kidding). Wish me luck. I think we’ll all need it. I wish you all luck, and hope you haven’t already lost your shirts and/or retirement funds, like my parents.

Viva la Monday!!!

This weekend was odd. Friday during the day was a waste of time and space and space-time overall, but when I got out of work it got better. I went to Orpheus’ place, and prepared for the arrival of Bulgaria’s BF’s roommate, who deigned to go to gallery night with us downtown. We had nothing to eat first, which kinda sucked, but there was a beautiful gallery we went to last which is a working space for the artists exhibiting as well as a sales floor. The talks we had with artists there were awesome! I’d love to go back with money (when I have some again) and buy a couple small pieces. Most of the galleries stank, though, which wasn’t terribly surprising. Corporate art/boring late-middle-aged guest room décor, throughout.

Afterwards, we took “Roommate” to Opus, which is worming its’ way back into my heart as a viable nightspot. Overall, it was a fairly tense night, as he had to work overtime all weekend, and Friday night was his only HIM-time, and given away, to boot. I don’t think O. will get his wish for a three-way. Wish I could say “more’s the pity,” but I’m really a bit relieved. Though R. is a wonderful guy who I’d love to have as a friend, I’m not terribly attracted to him physically.

Saturday started off with a bout of sickness in conjunction with the failure of my phone battery, putting me close to an hour late for roleplaying. I was forgiven, fortunately, without having to explain exactly the state that had made me late. Short session, but we leveled, even though our wizard died (first casualty!). I want to go back to D+D 3.5… Though 4.0 is easier to play, it’s easier overall to stick with an established product. I really dislike change, I find. The rest of Saturday was nearly ruined by O’s need to nap. It was a two-hour snooze-fest that left both of us feeling off. We did, eventually, shake it off, but my yuckiness early on left me feeling unable to bear up to a long-overdue session of the nasty. Though disappointing, we slept, and that was that. I slept very poorly, due to the shitty two-hour nap.

Sunday was packed with adventure! I made amazing chorizo eggs served on a bed of perfect breakfast potatoes, and sprinkled with fresh-grated Parmesano Romano. I then rolled up my sleeves, and built a beautiful Gallician Pie for lunch, which ended up being an indoor picnic at Orpheus’ place. Aphrodite was back in town this weekend, and she agreed to lunch cooked by me before she left town for the Twin Cities. It was very nice to see her, even if it was only for a little bit, and she lauded lunch, as per usual. Afterwards, O. needed another nap, which I stayed up through, and then we got together for drinks with his work friends, who I adore. After a couple hours there, we went back to his place, and got around eventually to some rooty-tooty, rompin’-stompin, good-time sex. Then I passed out.

Today, per par, sucks. Viva la Monday!!!

EvilGenius’ Evil Doctor’s Bag…

Last night was lovely. After I got home from a horribly punishing day at the office, Orpheus made me a nice heavy martini, and we just vegged out until QuakerNoOats called and asked us to show up around 6:30-7 PM. Apparently, EvilGenius was VERY excited about us coming to her birthday dinner, and even consented to put on underpants when it was made clear that she couldn’t have us over if she didn’t! We brought over some New Glarus tart raspberry ale, which compares well with a basic fruit lambic from Belgium, and some Strongbow Cider, as QNO’s mother loved Woodchuck when we were over on Saturday. I cooked the meat for fajitas, and cooked down the onion and peppers in a pan. There was a neat salad dressing that QNO made, and good corn torillas. Dinner was fun, but conversation and present time was better.

As I think I mentioned before, O. and I got EvilGenius a doctor’s kit for her birthday. She had gotten her flu shot that very morning at the doctor’s office, so I was a little uneasy regarding the reception of her gift, but she loved it. A lot. She even started walking around, giving everybody shots, and listening to their heartbeats. The best part, though, was when she hooked the little battery-operated pager that came with the kit over her training pants to make rounds… It was so cute I wanted to barf a little, inside my mouth. It was such a good night, my spirits lifted a lot. I needed it. This morning, I had a telephone roleplay that I nailed to the floor. It felt good, even if this place does suck rocks!

Tonight O. and I have off. I know it’s just my insecurity coming to bite me in the ass, but we haven’t been having nearly enough sex lately. He’s easing into his comfort zone regarding the thing he didn’t used to do willingly, but he’s not doing the opposite to me nearly as much anymore. Though, given how thorny I’ve been lately, I can’t say as I blame him. Hopefully, I can make a resolution to start fresh, and try to be more upbeat. I have to try. I don’t want to lose my guy!

Holy F-ing S...

The last few days have passed by in a semi-pleasant haze. Gaming on Saturday was plenty of fun, and I think that we’re finally getting our “sea legs” where D+D v4.0 is concerned. God knows I’ve started to kick ass and take names, although I’m the first to collapse in a given situation, too. Plus, the entire “you heal fully overnight” thing really sucks ascot. However, the game itself isn’t bad, though magic kinda sucks now. We’ll see how things work out, though. Magic may end up being cooler in the end of things, but I seriously doubt it.

After gaming, BakedAlaska invited Orpheus and I over to help celebrate the 2nd birthday of his daughter, EvilGenius. Really, though, we’re going over tonight, too, which is actually her birthday, so I think it was really all about keeping the adults sane. QuakerNoOats’ mother is in town. They are notorious for not getting along, though she is FAR more pleasant than QNO ever led me to believe, just rather, umm… Tightly wound. Really, though, if I had been the Mom in a house chock full of kids with overlapping but individual food allergies, I’d have gone nuts and murdered the whole lot in preparation for offing myself. SCM (SternCatholicMamma), however, did it all with just the slightest edge of mania, including taking on two foster kids. In any case, we helped to keep the peace and distract SCM from QNO (and vice-versa). We’re performing the same function tonight, but this time giving EvilGenius our birthday present, which is a fancy doctor’s kit for kids 2+. When he first saw it on Saturday, BakedAK commented that we aren’t ever allowed to buy a present for his daughter better than his, again.

I also bought Brsinger, the final book in the Eragon trilogy, on Saturday morning. I’ve been annoying the hell out of O. reading it every free second. It isn’t terribly well written, just like its’ predecessors in the series, but the story is more or less sound. I just want to be over with the tiresome structure and be done with the story.

Sunday was interesting, if a bit boring overall. I went to an instance of the concert series they run every school year at the Chazen museum, on campus at the University of Wisconsin. It was the staff string quartet performing two rather experimental works (at the time they were written, anyway), by Janacek and Ludwig Van… I liked the Jancek for one reason, that being that all rhythmic drive, and many first statements of theme were made by the viola. It was very odd and cool, kind of turning everything on its’ head for me throughout the piece. I like Janacek’s music when it sounds most modern and discordant, so I only loved about 10% of the quartet in toto, but it was neat. The Beethoven recycles discarded themes from then 9th Symphony, amongst others of Ludwig’s greatest hits, and is both overlong and overmeandering, with little to no point in the most “serious” third movement. Said movement, in fact, accounted for about half of this monster’s 45-minute run, flopping about like a dying peacock, stripped of its’ feathers. I kind of threw a bunch of shit into a pot with rice for dinner, and it ended up being quite good. Go figure!

Yesterday just sucked abjectly at work, and afterwards, Orpheus kept taunting me in that joking way he has that feels light and teasing to him, but just annoying and ill-will-begetting to me. We abandoned a speech were were to see at the University for a mall walk and a lovely dinner made with apples from our expedition to the Epplegarden a full week ago. I did a braised pork loin with apples and cranberries. It was delicious last night, but made even better leftovers for lunch today. Plus, O. downloaded some really kickin’ pornos, so you can tell how the rest of the night went. ;-)

Hire me. Please...

Anyone hiring in Madison, WI? I mean, anybody with taste and discretion, who needs a highly capable, fast-learning worker to fill just about any office role (hell, if you’re here, you’ve SEEN what I’ve been through physically, lately… NO MANUAL LABOR!!!), at over $18/hr, leave me a comment… In fact, somebody please leave me a comment, even if you’re not hiring, as nobody seems to read my blog. Ever. Or, if they do, they just laugh to themselves. Unless you’re really mean, I won’t repress your comment, I promise! ;-)

Gomeroke, hibernation, various points between...

So, last night was wicked fun. I didn’t think that the birthday party of, essentially, a new friend (who shall heretofore be known as RPGirl,) would be nearly that entertaining, especially given Orpheus’ general feelings of malaise over the last few days. When I got home from work, yesterday, he was still napping, and smelled like a barn, as mildly ill sleeping grown-ups tend to do. He was well-rested, however, and we watched a little TV while I made a snack of bacon and martinis. After that, he showered, and I got to pull my very special trick on him, which led to long-overdue (and wholly welcome), if not overtly spectacular, sex. We bundled up and drove downtown, on the way nabbing more lube, and eventually reached the Roman Candle, a pizza joint on the near-East side where the initial leg of the birthday celebration took place.

It was a good group, mostly grad students. Even though O. didn’t talk much, he did speak more than at most gatherings of people my age, which was encouraging. He declined to follow us to the High Noon Saloon, as he was feeling tired, so I dropped him off at his place, and continued on to Gomeroke (a band called the Gomers provides live backing for Karaoke). It was fuckin’ hot. I got a free drink ticket during the first set for my smokin’ rendition of ‘Sweet Transvestite,’ even inspiring the birthday girl (RPGirl,) to sing ‘Tainted Love’ in the process… And she’s never even done Karaoke once before! I had a great time. When I returned to Orpheus’ place, he was somewhat recovered, and happily popped in an episode of the Dame Edna Experience, which he’d been watching while I was at the bar. He’s so sweet and expectant when he shows me something that he knows I’ll like, and like it I did! It was uproariously funny, especially considering how old the episodes were.

We didn’t sleep terribly well last night, unfortunately not due to further sexual energy expenditures, but there was some very satisfying snuggling. It’s starting to get colder at night again, and that means awesome opportunities to snuggle whilst hibernating. Mmm… Actually, a three-month nap sounds pretty good right now…

Woo!

The past few days have gone by in a largely undifferentiated blur, except I find myself constantly worrying about money, picking on Orpheus, and being a generally nervous Nellie. I’m also horny as hell, all the damned time! At least unidentified lip thingie has gone away in less than a week… This makes it less likely (though not impossible) that it’s herpes, greatly lessening the pressure I’m feeling on that front. Work continues, as ever, to suck. And last night, despite a recipe not altered a whit from what appeared in the magazine, dinner sucked donkey rocks.

Fortunately, O. and I went on a Target-walk, got some booze, went back to my place and just relaxed. With my lip all better, I might even get laid tonight, before going to a new gaming friend’s less formal of two birthday soirées at a local pizza joint, to be followed by a session of Gomeroke, which I have never before experienced (but am, admittedly, quite excited about). Her birthday present will likely be dinner for herself and her boyfriend (a gaming friend of much longer acquaintance), cooked by me. It’ll be a challenge, as they’re both vegetarians, but will be nice. I like both of them, and really have to expand the number of people who I liked first with whom Orpheus will break bread willingly.

Anyway, there’s really nothing else for the time being, except that I get to go home tonight and snack on apples from the Epplegarten, and salt-n-vinegar potato chips from Target, and have martini with a touch of pomegranate Jones soda (which comes from a Dracula-head themed 8-oz. can), and possibly make the two-backed beast before pizza. And gomeroke. Woo… Tonight is looking better already!

Dirty, dirty Pirates...

In honor of International Pirate Day, or whatever it’s called, a poem… Well, it’s a Limerick, and that’s a kind of poem, so yeah…

There once was a cur from Nantucket,
Had a peg-leg so thick it filled buckets.
With a kiss and a grin,
All the fishwives gave in,
To unspeakable sins for a ducket.

All bow before the might of my filthy verse! YAR!!! Actually, it's kind of funny... The secretary in my department, who is totally AWESOME, dressed as the dread Pirate Anne Bonny, niece of Bluebeard, for the second year in a row. The bosses are treating her gingerly today. She loved the limerick, btw. Hope you do, too.

Manic much, yo?!?

Yesterday evening was far better than expected. Orpheus was very kind despite my post-work grumpiness, and we watched the first episode of ‘The Venture Brothers: Season 3’ while snuggling after I got home from work. It involved the origin story of The Monarch and his far superior partner in villainy, the gravel-voiced Dr. Girlfriend (who is the hottest cartoon walking-trannie joke EVER). I told him what the doctor said about my stupid lip, and he maintained cheerfulness, even giving me a little of the Chinese food he’d gotten for lunch down the street from my place as a tide-over snack to get me through the Philip Roth interview… Which, I found out on the way over, was a teleconference interview. He wasn’t at the bookstore at all. I just spent the entire time in Borders’ luxurious cookbook section, salivating over the expensive pretties, and silently deriding certain recipes and volumes heartily.

When O. was ready, after he’d gotten bored with the lengthy interview re: what Philip read about the Korean War to get himself ready for this project, we headed downstairs and eventually out. Now, Borders is close to one of my favorite liquor stores ever, Steve’s Liquor, this particular location of which also has a cheese case/delicatessen area. I ordered a pound of unsalted Amish butter, and got a handle of vodka for Orpheus’ place, then we went over to Noodles (a nice slow-fast food chain,) for dinner, as O. had a two for one coupon. I’d forgotten how much I like pesto, and it’s really easy to make, so… Voila! Dinner idea!!! After Noodles, we went back to O’s place, proceeded to get silly drunk, and watched ‘What’s Up, Tigerlilly?’, the Woody Allen dub based off a bad Japanese espionage-type movie. He manages to turn it into his own personal paean to yellow fever, unsurprisingly.

I had weird dreams all night long, ones I don’t fully remember. I slept remarkably well, considering. All I can really remember is that I need to call Leo. It’s been about a month since he disappeared to San Diego, and, being that I helped him learn to write like a liberal arts freako, I feel I deserve an update. Orpheus and I have tonight off, as I’m having the first big roomie night with Terra Firma in a long while. Wish me luck on that count! Here’s hoping I can get the boxes out of the damned livingroom.

Lippy...

Tonight, it’s off to Phillip Roth’s reading at the bookstore… with more mystery lip-thingies. I went to my doctor over lunch today, and he says that the sore doesn’t present like herpes, and since it’s so early, it’s very hard to tell. It hasn’t wept yet, and even if it had, he’s not sure that I’ve produced antibodies, so I might not test positive for anything. He says it’s highly unlikely to be any of the other usual suspects, either, but urges me to come back for testing if it keeps happening. Nice. So, no more sex for another week while my lip heals, then just wait for it to happen again (if ever) to get a chance to find out I have herpes, or maybe something worse. Yippie-ki-yi-yay. All I need now is to find out that Orpheus has had it all along and hadn’t gotten around to telling me, or that I picked it up from my dirty whore ex back when the stress wasn’t bad enough to force me to break out in hives.

I don’t have the energy to cook, tonight. I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to eat. Last night, I made Galician empanadas for O. and I, and they were bloody delicious. Next time, they’ll be even better, as I won’t make the mistake of estimating the time it will take the onions to turn into a carmelized goo. Also, I’ll properly fold over the crust-edge. Other than that, damn, was it delicious. I have a neat idea for a dual dish… I’d make a “Greek Turnover” using red onions, red and green peppers, cooking down as for the empanadas, then, instead of adding tomato, putting in the innards of a small roasted eggplant. After cooking down further, I’d spread it on the puff pastry (or phylo… Hmm…), and sprinkle with feta, serving with nicely grilled or olive-oil sautéed wine-marinated lamb. Or kabobs. Yummy!

Anyway, I’m not looking forward terribly much to the Phillip Roth. Mostly, I’m doing it for Orpheus, because he wants to see Roth give a reading and an interview. I could take or leave Roth. I kind of liked Operation: Shylock, but found it rather too pat, honestly. Good writing, though. I was far less than happy with Portnoy’s Complaint, and was so disgusted by the main character’s self-loathing I had to stop reading. Goodbye, Columbus I could take or leave, honestly. There’s just too much ugliness in Roth’s writing, and I don’t see the point of spending time on things so Operatically disgusting, building unpleasantness upon unpleasantness to a wholly noxious conclusion when life is already startlingly less than beautiful. I prefer my fiction not to eviscerate, as I’m reading for pleasure. For blood and violence, I go to the movies. It’s the kind of thing I don’t care to imagine myself. We’ll see what happens. I heard an interview of Mr. Roth on NPR a year or so ago that I found utterly charming, so who knows? Wish me luck…