Hooks Set... Ready, Set, ANNOY!!!

Last night was pretty interesting, if a touch miffy on my part. Orpheus live-blogged the Democratic National Convention. Rather, I should say, he live-blogged the annoyingly Olympic COMMENTARY thereof. I found it freakishly annoying to be hearing brain-dead reporters, still tired from Chinese jet-lag, pulling the least relevant shit out of their asses while you could hear good speeches going on in the background. Note to NBC: If you’re going to televise a convention, TELEVISE THE CONVENTION!!! I don’t want to hear your hack, idiot, jet-lagged journalism monkeys squawking over the floor show, no matter how distinguished their educational pedigree. But all that didn’t happen until later in the night. Let’s back up together…

I headed downtown following work, and braved a particularly idiot-laced road-riot of a driving situation before parking suspiciously easily near O’s place. Upon picking up the keys, I force-fed myself at Orpheus’ apartment, as Chemie and her two really cool Indian (like the Asian sub-continent,) roommates had gotten a cable modem, but couldn’t get their wireless network operational. So, after finally getting her computer to somewhere approaching copasetic on Saturday, I headed over after O. returned, and set up the ‘net for them while Orpheus listened to all the most annoying music channels on digital cable and they all danced around the apartment, making far too much noise for my taste and level of necessary concentration. The network is now set up, and other than a rancidly stupid password, as secure as it could possibly be given the girls’ inability to ‘fix’ any technical ‘problems’ that could occur were the network any more secure (like my brother-in-laws… He has it set up to only work for their computers, and is just lazy enough that, when you ask him to set your computer up, too, he’ll just say “I’ll do it later, please use my computer in the office for now!” Needless to say, he never does).

So, we finally leave there about an hour and a half later, and despite my sense of accomplishment, O. is EXTREMELY hungry, and dinner will take at least forty minutes to put on the table. It doesn’t help that he’s excited about live-blogging the DNC, and is spending all our travel time inside his head reflecting on the kinds of cutting witticisms he’ll employ to degrade both me and those unlucky enough to be speaking, later… I’d have been in a better mood had he paid some attention to me on the car-ride home. Then, we get back, I start cooking apple cider-curry-braised pork chops, and O. starts typing away, clickety-clack. I’m forced to spend yet more time listening to things I don’t particularly want to listen to while doing something that, while I take pride in my cooking, was a rather half-hearted task, given the late hour. This is when I started getting horribly annoyed with the networks for putting on commentary. If I’m going to be forced to listen to empty promises of schlock to come anyway, I’d rather be treated to good oratory. Senator Kennedy’s speech was glorious, for instance… Then they spent the next thirty minutes picking it apart half-heartedly, whilest I browned boneless chops, cooked down onions, added a wonderful curry powder, deglazed with vermouth, and began cooking down the cider. Fortunately, this a sweet dish, so my bitterness didn’t come out in the sauce.

This kept going, through dinner even, with Orpheus mostly ignoring me, even when I told him point-blank my meal had better be more important to his hungry butt than the pathetic interview then going on with Carolyn Kennedy, moderated by interrupt-ey, tired anchor-monkeys. After dinner, he wouldn’t stop blogging to help with dishes, and thus, to keep myself from being really nasty and saying something I’d regret, I did the damned dishes myself. Michelle Obama’s speech was pretty good, though it started out with the most disingenuous crap about her “faith” I’ve ever heard. I don’t want to hear about her faith. I don’t go to Baptist churches for a reason, and wish my Grandmother would STFU regarding God when I visited. Mrs. Obama’s relationship to some possible higher being is none of my never-mind… Conversely, my faith is mine, and anybody who tries to talk to me about it, unless they are very respectful, and very careful, will get a ridiculously profane earful.

Also, putting up Hillary as the first person she mentions as a shatterer of glass ceilings might’ve been more effective if the expression on her face hadn’t been so pinched as she said it, or if she’d apologized for the really incendiary comments she’s made in the past regarding Frau Clinton. I, like many others, am forced into the distasteful situation of supporting Barack, a candidate who I do not believe is ready for the Presidency, because of Hillary’s ouster from the bosom of her party. With ill-defined “change” promised after little substantive explanation of the mechanisms thereof, I’m precious little closer to waving an Obama flag now than I was a month ago, when it became clear it was all over. The least his wife could’ve done was wipe the stigmas she’s painted onto his campaign clear in her otherwise solid speech, and dispense with the fucking faith-crap. She’s a high-powered bitch with a law degree. She doesn’t any more believe in a caring creator than I do, and it sticks in my craw to hear her say what she said. Barack better bring it later this week’s all I’ve got to say.

The worst part of last night was after Orpheus and I had gone to bed. He said something that was really snippy when I asked if I could read the post. Instead of kicking his ass out of bed, I demanded my pillow while stealing a blanket, and informing him I’d be sleeping on the couch… It was my place. I felt irritated, powerless, and used. Fortunately for him, he showed appropriate flags at that point, rubbed my back, and got me chocolate. The shit he said about me was more or less balanced, despite being hopelessly tow-headed… Fucking English majors don’t understand politics any better than Southern Baptists. We had a nice session of mutual masturbation, and I got a wonderful night’s sleep. He’s still at my place, and after a phone call over lunch, aware that I’m still residually pissed about yesterday. It’s funny how I can be mad at him, but still feel a little sad that we’re not able to meet for lunch, or take a walk together or some such. Love sucks as wonderful journeys go, but it can be a lot of fun in addition to being a lot of work. Too bad about last night, but we’ll see about the next ten years…