Thursday, December 23, 2004

Wood Elves and Door Check Chicks

Recently, Hot Toddy and The Math Whiz and I collaborated at C.C. Slaughters. We were, as usual, surrounded by boy porn, my personal favorite. The Hot Bartender always accommodates my boy porn need by putting in “something good [for you].” I must admit, I am impressed with his selections.

In our usual joking fashion and in an attempt to mock a certain NYC indiscretion, Hot Toddy declared, “Let me know if you see anyone you like in here, so that I can hurry and go kiss them!” The Math Whiz and I made a quick assessment of what was available at C.C.’s. The Math Whiz and I agreed, there was no one.

“Well,” Hot Toddy said, “I want to kiss someone, so pick someone that I can kiss.” With Hot Toddy completely underestimating my boldness and trusting me completely, I said, “Hey, Hot Bartender,” he looks up, “Yeah, Auburn Pisces.” “Can Todd kiss you?”

For the briefest of moments, there were no words spoken. A pause really, followed by a look of horror… “Can YOU kiss me?” What the hell, like I’m second rate goods? Oh, wait, I have breasts, that’s the problem – duh, I’m in a gay bar. “NO!... Can Todd kiss you?”

An instant sigh of relief, “Now THAT I can do. Todd can kiss me anytime.” Whew, my job here is done!

And then I got it with both barrels… “Auburn Pisces, you just totally embarrassed me! I can’t believe you did that!” “What,” I coyly replied “you said I could pick the guy. Hot Bartender is the best guy.” “I know, but you didn’t have to say that!”

You’d think after all this time, Hot Toddy’s Toaster Oven would realize, I’m not lacking in ovaries. I don’t when the red glow of embarrassment faded from Toddy’s face following that exchange.

While ordering the next round and as the bar became increasingly more crowded, I couldn’t help but notice the abundance of straight chicks bouncing all over the place. I mentioned this to The Hot Bartender. “It isn’t enough straight chicks hang out in the lesbian bars, now they’re invading gay bars.” Hot Bartender agreed noting that Darcelle 15 was just around the corner and they do a big business in engagement parties. The straight girls just cruise around the corner to C.C.’s.

As one of these obviously straight, plastic girls bopped on by I watched her walk toward the door. She stopped to speak to the door check. And then the comedy between the three of us ensued:

“Where’d that straight chick go?”
“She’s talking to Dora the Door Check Chick.” (I have no idea what her name really is)
“Dora the door check chick?!
“What if Dora the Door Check Chick was a geek? Then she’d be Dora the Dorky Door Check Chick!”
“What if Dora the Dorky Door Check Chick was from Czechoslovakia? Then she’d be Dora the Dorky Czech Door Check Chick.”
“Well, if she’s from Czechoslovakia then her last name would probably be Chekhov. That would make her Dora Chekhov the Dorky Czech Door Check Chick.”

It was all we could do to keep it together we were laughing so hard.

Later on, we noticed that there was one man on the dance floor. This man was clearly hammered. He looked similar to a man we see around the office buildings where we work. We call him the Wood Elf. We don’t know who he is. He has a smallish body and a little head and his face looks like, well, an elf. The man on the dance floor looked like him.

We watched as he gyrated all over the place. Is he on X? Is he just drunk? He was wearing a tie and slacks so he must work downtown somewhere. At one point he removed his tie while he was dancing and it became a prop. Holding each end (in all of his.. ahem.. drunken sexiness…blech) he placed the tie behind his head and slid it shoulder to wrist. It was quite a spectacle.

At one point Hot Toddy states, “God, I hope he doesn’t hang himself with that tie. That would be horrible. He’d just be hanging there . Wouldn’t it be funny if he hung himself and I walked up and not knowing he was dead asked him to dance? … Okay, I’m going to spin you now!” Todd pretended to grab an arm and fling him. Though this all sounds in poor taste, okay, maybe it was, but it was funny as hell as Hot Toddy made his comedic delivery. I couldn’t stop laughing.

The funny thing is, later that evening after The Math Whiz left, Todd and I were sitting alone at that same table just talking, when approaching us from the bar was none other than – you guessed it – the wood elf.

As we saw him approaching, I positioned myself to face sideways so as to not make eye contact. Toddy, having the big heart that he does, (placed his left hand on my thigh and squeezed my leg), awaiting the train wreck. “Hi” the wood elf spoke. Todd greeted him with kindness and then proceeded to try not to laugh (or make my leg bleed) while he gently turned down wood elf’s advances.

That poor little man tried everything to convince Toddy it would be time well spent. If only he knew the image that we both had in our heads from his dance earlier. The wood elf finally went away, moving from guy to guy down the bar back toward the dance floor, all alone. The poor little elf bastard.

With 2004 coming to a close, I find myself reflective of all the laughter I have shared with good friends this year. I am glad to find I will end the year thinking of this rather than all the heavy relationship crap that’s taken place this year. Wait, I guess I just thought about it didn’t I? The good thing is it rents less space in my head now than it used to. Hot Toddy continues to chant (for both our benefit) time is what it takes to heal. He’s right. Hot Toddy’s Toaster Oven is a wise man. We should all listen to him more. Especially if you are The Rock, a cute, Asian, blonde bodybuilder, a Hot Bartender and men of substance.

I have met and strengthened friendships that I know will last a lifetime. Friends are those you choose to be in your life. And I think I’ve picked some pretty amazing friends. I hope they feel as blessed to have me in their lives as I do to have them in mine.

And then there are blog friends. Hot Toddy and Pony are the two who bitched at convinced me to start this blog. Thank you to the two of them for hookin’ me up. Not only am I having a good time blogging, I have gained new friends here as well. You are all such amazing people with such kind hearts.

It’s been interesting to read back through my blog and see where I was at based on my writing. It truly is cathartic. Hopefully in the New Year my blog will be less introspective and more light-hearted.

It isn’t as though I’m ever short on comedic material to write. Just yesterday HTTO and I were finishing up lunch when he remembered he wanted to stop by his bank and make a deposit. In filling out the deposit slip where you would normally write the bank numbers off of the check, he wrote Aub… and then leaned in closer to look at it. I leaned in the same time he did to see what the hell he was doing and we both started laughing.

The funny thing is that he didn’t even write Marilyn (my real name). He was actually writing Auburn Pisces on the deposit slip. My sweet, A.D.D. Libra. Goddess love ‘em.

Night before last we were at C.C.’s with Ms Karma and Mama Karma. Mama Karma had just flown in from France. Conversations were all over the place. Hot Toddy was in rare form and as usual, I couldn’t stop laughing. Every time Mama Karma would begin a story Todd would encourage her to continue by interrupting her and saying, “You go ahead, Mama Karma, put it on out there. You tell us your story.”

At one point Mama Karma said, “When I celebrated Ramadan in Bahrain I….” That’s all the further she got before Hot Toddy interjected (in dramatic form with as serious a delivery as he could give), “Oh, if I had a nickel for every time I celebrated Ramadan in Bahrain…..” We lost it right after the “if I had a nickel” part. The man is a genius.

I am very pleased that he and The Handsome Prince and The Math Whiz and Hot Momma and Ms Karma and Oak Point Man and Brown Eyes and Diomedes are all part of my life. Let the good times roll.

Merry Christmas!

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Grooveless on Solstice

I can’t find a groove right now. The odd thing is that I feel okay but events seem to leave me feeling as though everything is in disarray. Even where to begin seems difficult.

I think I decided this last weekend to sell my house. In as much as the mere thought of moving again exhausts me mentally, I don’t see any reason to continue to live in a 3,000 square foot house. I’m not knocking the openness or space I have. On the contrary, I love it. It just seems like such abundance isn’t necessary.

I bought the house with Daddy D. Though my name is the only name on the loan, we made the commitment together. We were to be a family in that house. We bought it specifically because it had that much space. We had ideas about how to utilize it that best fit our lifestyle.

The house has never really been what I wanted. As a matter of fact, I was looking at row houses. Something classy, contemporary, and perfect for just me and my kid. And then this relationship appeared out of nowhere and swept me off my feet.

I trusted her. I trusted in all that she shared; all that she promised. The house needed cosmetic updates that were only going to increase the value of the house and with little effort. Those things were, however, not things this femme could do on her own. Hell, I don’t even own a decent set of tools. My tool box consists of donations from friends (thank you, Nancy). And, donations are still being accepted!

When we bought the house Daddy D told me we were buying it as friends and that it had nothing to do with our relationship. She said that even in the off chance that we didn’t make it she would still give me money every week to help care for the house. She said that she’d still come over and take care of all of the butch things that needed doing. None of these things would appear to be true at this point. Dare I hold my breath? I think not.

In the time we were in the house together, we did get some things started. Notice I said started. Daddy D’s never finished anything she’s started in the house which is definitely unlike a Virgo. And to be quite frank, now that she’s moved onto her next ex, I doubt she’ll be bothering to see any of those projects to completion, though she still swears she’s going to.

I was able to re-fi the house and eliminate a large chunk of my debt load. That was cool. Except that every time I make the inflated house payment it rocks my world for a little while. It truly was advantageous to consolidate and I’m glad I did. I realized this last weekend that a house payment that big was ridiculous though.

I have an entire downstairs that’s empty. Auburn Aries won’t even go downstairs if it’s dark because it scares her. I can’t fix the house up, nor can I afford to hire a contractor to finish up what’s been started. Which I will need to do in order to sell house.

The house and all that it represents, ties me to Daddy D. So many promises were made in that house that have all been broken. So many moments shared that will never be again. In the meantime, I float around in the house trying to make it a home, which I have done for Auburn Aries, but it all seems so pointless sometimes.

I will keep Auburn Aries in the same school and try to find something in the same area for the time being. I need to find someone to help me get a few things done before I can sell it.

I’m not in a hurry to do so. It’s just time to simplify and find my bounty within myself and the love I have for Auburn Aries. She is my priority, not maintaining this damn house. I’ll have to see how things go. This is just where I am at today.

I have a job interview today. It’s for an IT Performance Analyst. The job sounds perfect. I find myself excited and nervous. I have become so accustomed to working with Ms Karma and Hot Toddy’s Toaster Oven that not being near them all day long would suck. But I can no longer hate coming to work every day because I work for a woman who just doesn’t get it. Perhaps if I were ten years younger, I would be willing to play her bullshit games and go toe-to-toe with her. But I’m not and I won’t. I’m just not there anymore. This isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing.

I attended a Yule ritual Sunday night. My friends the Arch-Druid and the High Priestess invited me to join them this year. My spiritual guide and dear friend The Druid wrote the ritual. I found it fun and spiritually rewarding. Each time I have participated in rituals with this particular group of people, I feel empowered. Even more so than when I practice alone. Being a Solitaire has its advantages. Participating as part of a group, at times, has even more.

I know that concerning all things, I need to release it to the Powers and have faith things will work out as they should. Why, right now, does it feel so hard?

Then there’s Christmas. I cannot seem to find a groove with that either this year. My house is decorated. Fairy Godmother put the lights up for me this year. Our tree is the best one yet. Auburn Aries is so proud of it. Daddy D came by and saw it and said it looks like a femme’s Christmas tree. Was that a compliment or a slam? I’m taking it as a compliment. Last year I got to see what the butch tree looked like and mine is better.

I haven’t finished shopping for my daughter yet. Though I am close to being done. There isn’t excitement in the air for me this year. I haven’t played any Christmas music like I usually do. Quite frankly, I’m afraid to. I know they’ll just make me cry and realize what I'm missing this year. With my Mom dying last year it was hard enough. Now add it no parents and the dissolution of a polyamorous relationship in a house I don’t think I want anymore, and my siblings being scattered about. It feels lonely this year. And I don’t like that.

I know that I am blessed in my life. I know that I have many, many things for which to be thankful. Why is it right now all I can feel is what I don’t have? This is such a weird feeling for me. Blessed but empty, loved by lonely, rich in so many ways, yet reduced to thinking of the ways I am not.

I started this entry yesterday (Monday). I got busy and didn’t get a chance to finish it. Today is Winter Solstice which is very exciting. The end of darkness. For someone like me who suffers with Seasonal Affective Disorder, today is a big day for me. Knowing the days become longer and there will be more light is a wonderful feeling. I need to go buy myself some flowers to brighten my day.

After rereading this draft, I find I feel the same today as I did yesterday. I am just going to roll with it and try to not seek answers. Though I have had a lot happen in the last year that has broken my heart, I know that I am stronger than this. This, too, shall pass.

Perhaps it’s just the S.A.D.; perhaps I come by these feelings honestly. All I know right now is that I need to have Patience and Faith and believe that everything will be okay. Somehow things have a way of working themselves out.

Be well and Happy Solstice!

Friday, December 17, 2004

It's Like Cuttin' a Fat Hog in the Ass

Over lunch at Who Song and Larry’s, the Toaster Oven and Ms Karma and I somehow ended up on the topic of sayings. Actually, it started the lunch conversation which just set the silly tone for the duration of our visit in the Cantina dining experience.

Because I’m having trouble with my memory right now (thanks Who Song, ya bastard), I will have to fast forward and just give you the list of those I shared. Hopefully you will see some of Hot Toddy’s in the comments. I don’t want to steal his thunder!

My folks are from the south. My Mom was from Oklahoma City and my Dad was from McCaskill, Arkansas. Yikes. I know. They met in Texas and moved to San Diego in 1942 or something. I thank my lucky stars every time I get the opportunity to tell people I was born and raised in San Diego. It leaves me the choice to describe the disfunctionality of my family versus people instantly knowing because I tell them I’m from Oklahoma or Arkansas. Isn’t disfunctionality a given in those “parts?”

Anyhoo, on with the list.

When not getting quite what you wanted they said, “It beats a pig and poke.”

When something good happened: “It’s like cuttin’ a fat hog in the ass.”

When complaining about having to do a chore, my Mom would say, “Oh, you’ll do it, if it hair-lips the Governor.”

My parents didn’t swear a lot. For some reason saying “bull shit” was a bad thing, however, saying “Horse Shit Julie” wasn’t.

And then there was my Mom’s version “Horse Junk Julie.”

If something went wrong or someone was upset they said “Soup’s cold now.”

If you were visibly upset or were pissed off at something, my folks would ask, “What’s wrong? You got the jaws?” (meaning you were so mad your jaw was clinched).

If my younger sister, Skinny Girl, was angry and I’d tell share that with my Mom or Dad they’d they said, “Well, she’s got the same clothes to get glad in.” This applied to anyone who was pissed off, not just Skinny Girl.

Then there was my Mom’s statement when she didn’t care, “Say it off the courthouse steps. I’ll give you an hour to draw a crowd.”

When you’d ask if you could have something you’d get “Help your darlin’ self.”

When looking for an estimate of time: “I’ll get to it dreckly.” We all thought dreckly was a word. She was saying “directly” but with that southern drawl…

Then there was the way my Mom said her phone number two two fiiiive, seven eigghhhht wuun wuun. She was so cute!

If someone had an abundance of something it was “They’ve got more (insert item here) than Carter’s got liver pills.”

When obtaining something out of reach there was “I Wrech on over there and got it.” Reached. They were trying to say they reached over and got it. Again, we all thought wrech was a word.

They had so many sayings that we kids were accustomed to hearing that I entered into young adulthood still using them. They felt like home to me. When I was 26, I got my first Unix System Administrator position. The company I worked for had an older woman in Accounts Payable that absolutely loved those sayings and would engage in conversation with me just to hear them. She was astounded at how many there were and constantly threatened to publish them in a little book (too late Barb, they’re on the ‘Net now!).

I finally realized that in certain situations in Corporate America, those expressions had the potential to make you appear uneducated. It’s no wonder with my Dad’s sixth grade education and Mom’s eighth. Being one of 14 children, my folks were old compared to my classmates. I guess if you’re going to have enough kids for a sports team, you have to start young!

There are a lot of things I wish I could change about my childhood. The expressions my family used aren’t one of those things. My ex Daddy D explained it to me one day. She pointed out that you are dealt a hand of cards when you are born. Those cards are the significant events in your life. When you become an adult, you have the choice to throw down one or more of those cards and have opportunities to pick new ones, thus, releasing yourself from the associated baggage.

I suspect that this card from my childhood will end up pretty tattered. I doubt I’ll ever throw this one down.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Christmas Eve with AAries or Opening Night with Toddy

While making plans with the Toaster Oven for this weekend and next:

HT: “My play opens Christmas Eve.”
AP: “I really want to go to opening night. Do you think I’ll have trouble finding a babysitter on Christmas eve?”
HT: “No, not at all. I mean, you’re daughter will have lots of *other* Christmases to spend with you, right?”
AP: “Yeah, the day will come when she “don’t wanna” spend Christmases with me anymore.”
HT: “Sorry, Auburn Aries, Santa doesn’t know where your babysitter lives. Maybe your babysitter’s kids will share their presents with you….Maybe.”
AP: “Mommy will have dozens more Christmases to spend with you when Hot Toddy’s play isn’t opening.”

Women Unite!

Several things have taken place today that leave me perplexed. Be forewarned, Street-Auburn Pisces is lurking inside of me today. Okay, she’s not inside, she’s alive and well dancing about in all her glory.

I had a physical today and knowing this, when I stepped into the shower this morning I shaved my legs, armpits, etc. (use your imagination on the etc.). The funny thing is it isn’t as though shaving my legs, pits or "etc." is going to get me a date. I really like my gyno, but as my dear friend Hot Momma (formerly Runs with Fetus or KP) puts it, “she’s like a farm hand.” Personally, I find her to be grounded, honest, and down to earth.

I don’t want my gyno thinking I have poor hygiene. If I were a gyno, I certainly wouldn’t want to see a weeks worth of stubble on one’s legs or the entrance to the bat cave when ones feet hit the stirrups.

It then caused me to ponder what purpose armpit hair serves anyway. Seriously. Especially on women. It just isn’t necessary. Doesn’t matter if you’re butch or femme, gay or straight – no one needs it. Shaving either leaves you allergic to the blades or causes you to have an allergic reaction to the aluminum in deodorants when applied to open pores. Even Tom’s Natural Deodorant isn’t friendly enough some days. (You’ll have to pry my Secret from my cold, dead hands).

Then I jumped on the ol’ menstrual bandwagon. For those that are planning a family, more power to ya. It’s a necessary evil. For those of us who have either a.) Already had our children b.) Don’t plan on having children c.) Are a lesbian or d.) Have had invasive surgery to avoid this, there needs to be a form with a box you can check that says X Periods no longer useful, please stop.

Not to mention stretch marks. Is it not enough we lose absolute control of our bodies for 40 weeks in order to procreate, we have to have stretch marks to serve as a reminder?! We already have the kid to prove we did it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m one of the lucky ones…no stretch marks. I dodged that bullet. But, for those women who have the constant reminder of stretch marks (and this has to really suck when you’re kid is being a brat – or your husband is being an asshole), aren’t you glad you sacrificed a smokin’ bod for *this*!

Men should have to squeeze a watermelon out their dicks and have to look down and realize they’ve forfeited six pack abs and pecks to die for only to know their chest is now going to become a utility…a tool. Yeah, like THAT would fly.

And bras. In as much as I don’t particularly care for my breasts to be moving about freely while at work, bras suck.

And what idiot invented high heeled shoes. A woman’s toes aren’t supposed to fit into a pointy shoe. I studied dance for ten years. Ballet, jazz, modern and Pointe. After dancing around on your toes in a ballet slipper with wood in the toe, stilettos were no big deal for a long time. Then one day I realized it was bullshit and gave it up. In all honesty, I loved how I looked in 4” heels. I have a 35” inseam barefooted so you do the math. Being 6’2” when wearing heels and female only works well when you’re straight – Men love tall women. Not so much in the lesbian world.

Mammograms. Dare I go here? Again, a necessary evil that continues to save lives daily. But why is there not a mechanism in which to place a man’s penis so that it may be squeezed mercilessly in between two x-ray plates, just so we can take a little look see?

Cellulite and woman have more layers of fat. WTF is up with that. It isn’t enough that we shave, trim, bleed, bear the children, have stretch marks, wear bras and high-heels and suffer with the discomfort of mammograms --- now we have to exist each day knowing that cellulite is our uninvited guest if we aren’t perfect eaters who work out endlessly? Nice. The perfect reward.

PMS. Good Gawd… PMS. Talk about the Gods thinking they have a sense of humor. You take a woman who has or is experiencing items 1-8 on a daily basis and add in PMS. Be afraid people. Be very afraid. The sad thing is that when PMS takes hold, it isn’t as though we don’t know it’s coming. It’s starts with the salt/sugar/salt/sugar craving which you satisfy knowing that if you don’t - someone might die. Then you add in the tears that creep up on you if for no other reason than you’ve eaten too much salt and sugar and now you feel like a pig.

As though the rest isn’t enough, was PMS really necessary for chrissake?

These are just some of the things I find myself pondering today. I was riding up in the elevator at work with Ms Karma earlier while blathering my fit o’ rage about such pointless dribble and had a stranger who works on a different floor giggling her butt off. A blog was born. Of course it helps to have Ms Karma (my fellow sufferer in womanhood) perpetuating my rage.

In all seriousness, I love being a woman… I wouldn’t change a thing. I love putting on my makeup every morning; I love that I gave birth to a beautiful, smart, funny little girl who adores me; I love that each woman’s body is different – each a work of art. I just find it amazing what we get used to and the shit we have to do just to be us.

For those men who are married to women (Tuna Man, Charlie and Hot Momma's Mister come to mind), go out, right now, and buy the biggest freakin’ bouquet of flowers you can find and tell your woman thank you.

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

5% Sister Friend

In Diomedes Strikes Again, I reference Diomedes as being 5% Sister-Friend. My good friend Brown Eyes has requested that I share how that came to be. This, too, will affirm the way Diomedes’ mind works. I hope you find it as intriguing as I do.

Once upon a time, there was a lesbian named Auburn Pisces who lived in Portland, Oregon. She was loved by many. Auburn Pisces is outgoing, loves to laugh, and enjoys horsing around and spending time with good friends. She is very protective of those with whom she is close. They say she has ovaries big enough to clank simply because she speaks the truth and, at times, seems fearless in her approach. More often than not (zip it, Fairy Godmother), the instant a thought lands on one of Auburn Pisces’ brain cells, it passes through her lips. Uncensored.

This is true of her humor as well. In as much as AP is a femme, she has been known to drop a few jaws at her high-spirited drollery.

Auburn Pisces refers to her closest female friends as Sister or Sister-Friend. It is indicative of the bond she feels toward the women in her life.

One day while getting on an elevator at work, Auburn Pisces and Ms Karma were joking around in their usual fashion. The conversation turned piggish very quickly. It just so happened that Diomedes was boarding the same elevator, at which point AP quickly apologized explaining to Diomedes that she has 10 brothers (AP is one of 14 children) and humor such as that which she had spoken, though it seems crass to most, was really no big deal in her world.

(Translation: dear gawd please don’t think I am a pig just because I made a joke like one.) Though Auburn Pisces would like to give off the appearance she’s 10 feet tall and bulletproof, some opinions do matter to her to her tender heart.

Diomedes having the brilliant mind that he does proceeded through a portion of his day apparently contemplating what AP had said to him… (I say “a portion of his day” when in fact what it probably amounted to was five or ten minutes!) ...10 brothers. Sister-Friend. Piggish comments.

Later that day, Diomedes shared with Auburn Pisces the algebraic calculations of his brainstorm regarding Sister-Friend percentages. Below is a copy of the actual email he sent to AP. And, this is how Diomedes became an Honorary Sister Friend:


Ok, here goes.

You said that you were "mostly pig" since you have ten brothers. The assumptions I have made are myriad --

1. That which is not pig is sister-friend -- there is nothing else.
2. All women are 100% sister-friend to begin with, while men are 100% pig to begin with.
3. Having sisters does not make a woman more of a sister-friend, nor brothers a man more piggish.

Keeping these assumptions in mind, I then turn to the idea of "mostly pig."
At a minimum, "mostly pig" means that it is an infinitesimal degree above 50%; hence I'll call the minimum limit 50% even. Going back to assumptions 1 and 2, this also means that you are less than 50% sister-friend.

My guess is that since you referred to your brothers collectively, that each of them contributes equally to your PQ (pig quotient). Hence, I would assume each brother contributes at least 5%, since that is minimum 50% divided ten ways. This is a large assumption, because it would mean a woman with 20 brothers would be 100% pig, so I would suggest that there is something akin to relativistic behavior as you approach the upper reaches of the opposite gender's percentiles. But let us suppose that these figures are accurate for the smaller domain with which we are working.

I have one sister, hence, assuming the same behavior and also that of assumptions 1 and 2, it follows that I am at least 5% sister-friend -- perhaps more, depending on how porcine you are. Assumptions 1 and 2 actually could mean that if each brother contributes 9.5% to your piggishness, and you are 95% pig, this would make me 9.5% sister-friend, meaning that I would actually be more of a sister-friend than you, but I think this somewhat unlikely. See the above paragraph. I think the relationship may be more hyperbolic, and I will keep you posted on the latest developments in gender algebra.

Rock on, sister!

Friday, December 10, 2004

Diomedes Strikes Again

Warning: This blog may be offensive to those with a pure heart. Read at your own risk!!!

I work with a particular guy that, at a glance, appears to be one of the quietest people you'll ever meet. When speaking with him, you'll find he speaks somewhat under his breath. He's a part-time employee as he is completing a degree, so I only have the pleasure of his anecdotes half the day. He is a highly intelligent man who ordinarily keeps most opinions to himself. It would appear he finds a lot of people and conversation insipid. He is very well read and finds most modern creative writing masturbatory. He has a rapier wit and I find him an amazing source of entertainment...when he's pissed.

He and I communicate daily. It's not uncommon for me to inquire as to his state of mind. I do this because I know if he's having a bit of a pissy day, I will receive the best comedy possible.

Diomedes... Good morning, sunshine
Auburn Pisces... good morning.
Auburn Pisces... how are you this a.m
Diomedes... I'm pissed off
Auburn Pisces... yeah!
Auburn Pisces... why for?
Diomedes... I don't care
Auburn Pisces... right on! me either.
Diomedes... Could it be the little cocksnot kid on the bus listening to his walkman loud enough that it could be heard outside the bus?
Diomedes... Or maybe it's pent-up post-final exam rage?
Diomedes... These things are a mystery even to me
Auburn Pisces... it's margarita time buddy!
Diomedes... As soon as I figure out which carrot fucker has cheesed me off.... bad things will happen
Auburn Pisces... i know who the cheese head motherfucker is that pissed in my wheaties. her name is ...
Diomedes... Well up hers with a garbage truck!
Diomedes... Fucker!
Auburn Pisces... no shit.
Auburn Pisces... she's being an asshole.
Auburn Pisces... jerkoff.
Diomedes... Damn, after reading your blog, she really pisses me off
Auburn Pisces... yeah, well there's more. while we were together, we had ...(can't disclose this story publicly, sorry) ...because she moved on so quickly the [bleeeeeep], and I felt hurt because she references how (can't disclose this either) so fuck them both.
Diomedes... What the hell?
Diomedes... Someone should take away her vagina license
Diomedes... That's just irresponsible
Diomedes... God, people are such fucks!
Diomedes... Macaroni and cheese shouldn't come in a box!
Diomedes... Shock therapy is a bad idea!
Diomedes... The world is upside down.
Auburn Pisces... i agree. i told her if she wants to (censored) that's fine but to stop referencing our relationship like it was unsatisfying and prevented her from being herself. when i know differently.
Auburn Pisces... i wish i could pick her up by her ankles and smack her against the desk like a barbie doll. and yes, her vagina license needs to be revoked.
Diomedes... Yeah, we should call the OVA
Diomedes... And get it revoked
Auburn Pisces... ova? office of vagina administration?!!!
Auburn Pisces... LOLOLOLOL
Diomedes... Yeah, I almost took a job being a vagina inspector with them
Diomedes... But they said I was too much woman for the job -- it'd interfere with my judgement
Auburn Pisces... that's because your 5% Sister Friend.
Auburn Pisces... no surprise they turned you down.
Diomedes... Besides, I don't know if I could sit behind a desk issuing licenses and looking at c**ts all day
Diomedes... It's much better to look at the clothy walls of my cube
Auburn Pisces... today, i agree with your assessment of the cube walls.
Diomedes... Why is that? You're usually so down on the cubes
Auburn Pisces... today, i'm down on the c**ts
Diomedes... Well, I can understand that
Diomedes... I came to an interesting realization about my cubicle
Diomedes... I thought -- what is the central metaphor of the office
Diomedes... The central metaphor of the office is the storage and retrieval of information
Diomedes... ... in other words, the central metaphor of the office is filing
Diomedes... Filing works by dividing stuff into categories, then ordering them, and dividing them into sub-categories and sub-sub-categories and so on
Diomedes... I came to realize that this metaphor extends quite nicely to the cubicle
Diomedes... In other words, you and I have been filed
Diomedes... I'm not sure how I feel about that
Diomedes... Actually I do know how I feel: I don't care!
Diomedes... What is it compared to the crime against humanity that is modern country music?
Diomedes... I also hate upscale yuppie restaurants that people just go to be seen at
Auburn Pisces... filed. shit...
Diomedes... What a fantastic waste of time!
Diomedes... I could bitch at you all day long!
Diomedes... You can't get a good pair of shoes anymore! What the fuck?
Diomedes... The Web is stupid! Corn dogs suck!
Diomedes... My rage waxeth and I grow inarticulate and ham-fisted!
Diomedes... The people who thought up diamond rings should be rounded up and shot!
Diomedes... The people who thought up class rings may live, but must give me an arm in tribute.
Diomedes... Since I am feeling benevolent, they may choose which arm
Diomedes... Modern poetry is ghastly
Diomedes... I see it spattered all about the bus on my bus ride in
Diomedes... Poets write about feelings and images, and it's hard to believe the feelings and images of the day are so pedestrian
Diomedes... Fuck you bus poets! You guys suck at poetry! Go back to cooking fries I won't eat!
Diomedes... I bet they just want to call themselves 'writers' so they can get the kind of girl who thinks she's smart!
Diomedes... What a fucking racket!
Diomedes... They should masturbate somewhere else, those no-talent hacks! Bus poets!
Diomedes... Me and my impotent little rage
Diomedes... Being an angry little man was enough for to conquer nations, once upon a time
Diomedes... Empires forged, wars fought and won... these were the workings of the angry little man whose anger was contagious
Diomedes... What a load of bullshit I'm spouting! This is some second rate invective to be sure!
Diomedes... I must be getting soft! Society is trying to make amends with pizza and noodles and computer science! I'm losing my edge!
Diomedes... Those hemmhroids! How dare they coddle me!
Auburn Pisces... you're killing me today. i love it when you're outraged... but i am curious about the bad bus poetry... specifically like what? was it ON the bus?
Diomedes... They post it on the inside of the bus
Diomedes... Up across the top where ads are usually kept
Auburn Pisces... can i write about you in my blog?
Diomedes... It's a free country
Auburn Pisces... today's rage will be good for a giggle... you're on top of your pissy game today.
Diomedes... I don't know, call me anything! Pretend you're writing a book or something!
Diomedes... This is boring
Auburn Pisces... I know.
Diomedes... I'm done with my work and want to go do other work
Auburn Pisces... well, if you're not going to give me any input on a name, I'll get with Ms Karma and we'll come up with something appropriate.
Auburn Pisces... it's settled Diomedes it is!

It Takes All Kinds..

Human relationships are so complex. No matter how hard you try to keep it simple, it seems the opposite happens.

There are those in your life with whom laughter and the freedom to love comes easily. It is with these people that there is a level of acceptance about who you are, what you are, your genetic make-up. Acceptance just *is*.

It doesn’t matter if you’re moody, because they have the ability to pull you out of it without even trying. You can be a crying mess about things that later seem silly and these types of friends don’t mind. A true friend will agree with you that hindsight usually sucks.

These people accept it when you tell them you are in a funk, crabby, and generally pissed off and don’t know why. They don’t overanalyze and try to fix you. They just accept what *is* knowing that you will likely snap out of it when you’re ready. They are able to exist in the same space with you without letting it affect them. And in these particular instances if you need to have the shit slapped out of you, they do it – with love and kindness and laughing with you as you reel from the sting.

People like this don’t judge you. You can speak of a person or situation that you know you need to cut loose, or of a person you should have no faith in but keep believing in regardless of the emotional cost. You can speak of how someone still holds a piece of your heart when they probably shouldn’t. True friends will understand and be there to pick you up each time you stumble.

I try to surround myself with people I have full and complete faith in. These are the handful of people in my life that I refer to as “best friends.” They are exactly like those I’ve mentioned above. I can count these people that I trust implicitly, on one hand (okay, one and a half). They are the people that know the real me - the whole story – and they love me anyway!!

Some are the local peeps (you know who you are) and oddly enough the others are spread out. One is in southwest Washington, another further north in Olytown, another is in Virginia Beach, another in San Diego. They are, however, people with whom I can pick up the phone and feel like I just spoke to them yesterday. Somehow we always know what the other one needs.

These people in my life, both near and far, help recharge my batteries.

Recharging my batteries is often times what I need to deal with the other type of people… those that just don’t get it. These people are the type you want to identify early, in order to limit your exposure.

These are the people who are oblivious to the feelings of others. They don’t realize their selfishness knows no bounds. Whoever they are speaking to, they twist the truth to accommodate their own needs. They are so wrapped up in their own insignificance they don’t realize no one is paying attention. These are the people who have to over-inflate themselves to make themselves feel good. They don’t believe (though they would never admit it) people will accept them for who they are.

These types of people are incapable of keeping it simple. They play blame games and don’t take accountability for their own actions. They believe there are varying shades to the truth. Truth is truth people, figure it out!

We need to learn to say no to these people, even if it’s just to ourselves. Why is this process of saying no so difficult? Why do people like us try to believe so badly in people like them? It is foolish to have faith that the whole world will do the right thing. Yet I keep believing and trying. I keep putting my heart out there and reaching out only to be reminded people like the latter are incapable of changing.

It’s the one piece of advice my Mom gave me in my lifetime. While hanging clothes on the line at our house in El Cajon, CA at the age of 16: “You want to have faith in the whole world that they’ll do the right thing and you are going to get hurt over and over again if you don’t learn to take care of yourself. Don’t let the same snake bite you twice.”

The human spirit is a beautiful thing. It can endure and overcome so much. Everyone, at one time or another, has been afraid, apprehensive or uncertain. Those with depth will look inside themselves in search of their own truth. Unfortunately, the people that look inside for answers aren’t always necessarily the people who need to do so.

Some people seem heartless, some people ARE heartless, and some of us have enough heart to share with others. We don’t like being hurt any more than anyone else, but we will continue to give love and get hurt with the hope that on some level, we’ve made a difference in someone’s life.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

It's The Handsome Prince's Fault

At a small gathering o' four yesterday evening (THP, Hot Toddy, Ms Karma and myself), Hot Toddy and I decided that The Handsome Prince is mean to us because he doesn't have a cute brother for HTTO to date. Nor does he have a sister that I can date.

Essentially, it's THP's fault Toddy and I are single..

'Nuff said about that!

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Miniature Vortex Virgin No More

Today's blog will be about a little bit of everything..which, in turn, could turn out to be a blog about nothing. I guess we'll see.

Yesterday evening I received a call from The Handsome Prince. He was heading to C.C. Slaughter's and asked if I would join him. He mentioned he had also tried to reach Hot Toddy to no avail. Personally, I knew Hot Toddy was entertaining a certain Pony in The Vortex and probably wouldn't be taking any calls.

I was amidst trying to get dinner on the table for a certain Aries I know and love. You may (or may not) know the drill. It's the what's-for-dinner question every night at which point I take a breath and prepare myself for the struggle that ensues. "I'm baking chicken." "Chicken. . . oh maaan. Why do we have to eat chicken?" "Because we're hungry?" "Mahhhhm, that's not what I mean and you know it." "Chicken is good." "No it's not. Why can't I have McDonalds?" "McDonalds, good gawd, you can't eat McDonalds every night." (c'mon, Mom - you've got to do better than that). "I'll bet I can eat McDonalds every night." "Auburn Aries, it wouldn't be good for you." "Who cares, tonight, chicken is yucky."

Moving on.

We ate dinner (I guess when you compare eating chicken Mom made against eating, say, NOTHING, chicken isn't so bad), and then I called AAries' Fairy Godmother to see if she was up for a little visit while I head off to have
a good time a serious talk with THP. Seemed like a plan to me. And, as usual, Fairy Godmother didn't bat an eye. She is so good to my daughter. I am blessed to have her in our lives. Aries loves spending time with her because they are so close.

I was greeted with a big smile from THP. We sat and talked for a bit and resolved some "grown up" things. Or maybe I made matters worse...hmm... in any case, we did it over a couple of drinks and in an adult (pornographic) atmosphere. Good talks are done best without being asked where ones' Barbie is at or if the latest piece of artwork is pretty. I only had about an hour so the visit was somewhat brief.

The Math Whiz joined us and the three of us left. I was going to give the boys a ride home once I had picked up Auburn Aries. Funny thing is regardless of how close Aries is to her Fairy Godmother, the minute she found out THP and The Math Whiz were in the car, she was out the door like a shot.

Each one of the boys holds a special place in Aries' heart for very different reasons. The Math Whiz does because he has what she calls "the coolest dog EVER." In Aries' eyes, we are the official backup dogsitters in the event The Math Whiz needs to run an errand -- or gets sick of the dog. Whichever comes first.

THP, on the other hand, engages Auburn Aries on a level that is so lighthearted and fun that she becomes transfixed on every word he speaks and she works especially hard to make him laugh. She can't get close enough to people like THP or Hot Toddy. It doesn't matter to them that she is almost eight years old and has the potential to be a pain in the butt. She is an extension of me and that's what matters.

As we headed toward The Vortex, Aries just chattered away. The Math Whiz engaged her in conversation much the same way her Fairy Godmother does (both being Virgos). He's lighthearted with her but logical and Aries is a strong enough personality to take him on.

As we pulled in front of the house, we noticed Pony's truck which would mean Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven was still up and The Vortex was open. I no sooner finished the question, "Do you want to see the Vortex and say hi to Tod---" before Aries was out of the car and crowding THP at the door to get inside.

Aries had never been at The House before nor had she ever seen The Vortex though she knew it existed. She walked in and headed straight for it as though there was a trail of Maker's Mark bottles to guide her there. I managed to get in front of her and take her by the hand. I opened The Vortex door and caught Toddy and Pony completely off guard. I suspect I was the last person they expected to see at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday night. Once I had their full attention, I stepped through the door presenting Auburn Aries.

They were as excited to see her and she was them. All she could do was laugh and give hugs. She was glowing with excitement. The energy was so fantastic. I stood and watched my daughter interact, once again, with these men who have become so important in her little life. I guess when you're Mom is a lesbian the number of men that are actually around diminishes greatly. Until the last few months for AAries. She has found comedic relief in The Boys and cannot stop talking about them.

While I attempted conversation with Hot Toddy and Pony, I watched as The Handsome Prince and AAries fed off each other. He had her laughing so hard. She was absolutely comfortable in her own skin. There was no issue of being taller; no issue of weight; no concerns someone wouldn't like her. The horsed around back and forth and THP was laughing every bit as often and as hard as Auburn Aries.

Then it started. It was as though Aries was on a stage. She began to dance around. She was laughing at her own comedy. She was out of control. "Wait, wait" she shouted as she placed one hand in front of her as though holding a pair of reigns - She began to chasse' around The Vortex pretending to be a horse while she smacked her little bottom with her other hand, all the while laughing uncontrollably.

When she was done with that maneuver, she made faces.

Once the faces faded away, she reached over and pretended to twang my bra straps through my shirt like a standup bass, singing a local country station 99.5 The Wolf's the morning theme song, "Mike and Amy, in the mornin', in the mornin'" plucking each time she said mornin and on the off beat. All we could do was laugh.

Have you ever seen Charlie's Angel's? The first one? Where Cameron Diaz is in her bedroom wearing Underoo's doing little circles with her butt???? That was my daughter. Wiggling her butt and laughing with all of her might. It was incredible.

Hot Toddy got ahold of himself long enough to go inside and reappear with some toys he had been saving for her as a gift. She clutched them to her chest and was so excited. She threw her arms around his neck, thanked him and told him she loved him. He probably had some idea of how excited she would be but I never saw it coming so it moved me. Here are these men, "My Boys," who have touched my life in such a way that it's only enhanced who I am as a human being, and they've embraced my daughter the same way.

It was 30 minutes in The Vortex that I will never forget.

I finally managed to get Auburn Aries out of The House and home. She was so excited I put her in bed with me to make sure she would get to sleep. She put her new toys on the night stand so they'd be there when she woke up. And rather than hear her say "Morning Mommy" her first words were, "Are we going back to The Vortex tonight?"

Hmm.. if I had a nickel for everytime I've wondered that myself!

Friday, December 03, 2004

Airport Conversation with Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven

Well, what the hell?! It's Friday. You're supposed to cruise through Fridays enjoying a laugh, listening to music while you work (or while you're AT work, rather), surfing the web as needed, you know the game. Today is the day o' reward for putting up with people's crap and deadlines and stress all week. We've all woven our fabric of lies with regard to what we've done all week. But Noooooo. Not for Auburn Pisces. Not today. I mean, for cryin' in the night people -- it's 11:15 and I have been slammed since I got here this morning. Working. Not enjoying my Friday the way I should be, but head down, fingers flying (and no, I don't mean like that).

I drove in listening to a comedy CD my friend gave me. I was laughing my ass off in the car as I drove. Kathleen Madigan in the best comedian EVER! I couldn't wait to get here and get my fingers on the keys...not for the company's gain but for my own selfish gain - blogging.

My friends are missing today. Ms Karma took a couple of days off and Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven...well, he's headed to NYC for the free whiskey to meet all of the friends he's made blogging. If it weren't for the phone call at 6 a.m. this morning from HTTO, I'd really be jonesing.

HT: "I'm at the airport. I'm all checked in. It went quickly and I'm just having a smoke before go through security."

AP: "Well, you're going to have a kick-ass day, Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. Everything will be fine."

HT: "I'm going to stop and get money from the ATM before I get on the plane. Except this time, I'll remember to get my ATM card out of the machine (see #2 and my personal favorite #7).

AP: laughs

HT: "Oh, and I'm not wearing a belt. That'll help."

AP: "Help what? Having on easy access pants doesn't mean you can let the Pilot blow you before you get to your seat."

HT: laughs. "No, it's so when I go through security I won't set off the alarm and have to remove my belt everytime. Only problem is I'll be walking through airports all across the country with droopy pants."

AP: "Well, doesn't much matter. There'll be some hot, gay flight attendant on board that's going to flirt with you all the way to Minneapolis anyway."

HT: "If there's a God!"

AP: "I'm gonna miss hanging with you this weekend, but have a great time and tell everyone I said hello. "

HT: "I will. You know you can always call The Handsome Prince and the Math Whiz and hang out with them again while I'm gone."

AP: "Yeah, but it's just not the same."

HT: laughs, pauses. "What are you talking about?! It's EXACTLY the same!!"

AP: laughs, "You're right, what was I thinking."

HT: "So you'll pick me up at the airport on Monday and we'll hang in The Vortex and I'll tell you all about my trip, right?"

AP: "Absolutely. When do you get into Minneapolis?"

HT: "Around noon."

AP: "Do you have a book to read on the flight?"

HT: "Yes, Mom, I do."

AP: "Good gawd, I did sound just like your Mom!"

So, in summary here is my advice for Hot Toddy on his adventure:

1. If hot flight attendants flirt with you and offer you free drinks, take them. (not that this needed saying, but..)

2. If the Pilot gives you a quick wink as you board the plane, interpret that as his noticing your belt is missing and he's interested in giving you a tour of the cock...pit.

3. Never refer to the woman who asks if you have a book to read on the flight as Mom...especially when you were her brother and father in past lives...that's just gross.

4. If opportunity presents itself in NY, trust your instincts.

5. If there's an awesome lesbian blogger looking for someone on the "left coast" who's exciting to hang with and has a big heart, tell her how to get to my house.

6. Drunk dial messages will be left to go to voice mail so that I may blog about them next week.

7. Coming home rested and refreshed will not be tolerated. You need to come home to recuperate and detox.

8. Lamb tastes like sweet, innocent victim...Don't go there on this trip.

9. You needn't worry about your ego being "smashed into a million pieces" while in NY so there's no need to ram your head into a concrete pillar like you tried to do here this week.

10. I'm sure the wood elf will still be here when you return.