I know he’s turning out to be a scary politician but I still think this pic is hot, hot, hot!!! I’m ready for a president I’d bang… a PIB, the new acronym for the new American century.

ps: I deleted some of my posts because they were, as a boy said, not up to standard. I have vowed to post only tasteful and thoughtful posts from here on out. The fact that this one does not live up to my vow is irrelevant. I just want a PIB.

UPDATE: And, btw, this is NOT HOT. This is make your brain fly out yo head NOT HOT.

I haven’t finished it yet, but this book is highly recommended by moi…..  I’m wanting to buy a pony to get around town and join a commune. Seriously.

UPDATE: I am fucked up. But not from alcohol. Okay, maybe a little from alcohol (not much according to my standards),,,, but I am soooooo fucked up. YAY !!!!!!! I mean in a good way…. Yay!!! (and ye who read the blog for the purposes of monitoring my mental and moral state… let me say…. YAY!!!
YAY !!!

I have a birthday coming up in one week. Please feel free to send cash or Prosecco.  I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.  At this point, I think I just don’t care. I wish I could just go totally insane so I wouldn’t have any lingering awareness of how far off track I am.  Now I know these negative thoughts belong on the list, but I’m just blathering on because that’s what I do.  My best gay boyfriend, Mikey, gave me a bag full of beautifully wrapped presents which I was trying to save for opening on the big day, but my daughter convinced me to open “just one” yesterday. Mikey has been known to give me some naughty gifts in the past and the daughter is aware of this, having come upon them by accident (think sex manuals, etc.)…. so with some trepidation, I decided to open the gift that was wrapped up in a long tube.  E. was so funny as I opened it, all scared and laughing like oh my god what is it? The “I’m scared to look” expression on her face.  So I slowly opened it, slowly peeled off the tissue paper wrapped around the tube contents….. the suspense grew… E. looked away and then looked back again, unable to contain her curiousity..  I ripped off the tissue paper and it was :

4 pairs of chopsticks !

We had a good laugh over that. My life is a bit of a trainwreck but I have the most wonderful and beautiful daughter in the world.  And a great gay bf. And a lot of great people in my life. So fuck the tracks, the train has jumped off but who cares???

Blonde, meticulously groomed (maybe too well groomed… are those eyebrows shaved???) , see-through skin, maybe 40 years old ..who knows??? Disturbingly stocky, wound tight enough to cause strokes in innocent bystanders. Neat to the point of pin-ness where it makes you worry. He could totally be a paramilitary dude like the OK City bombers or something.. Paramilitary is all I can think about when I see him… A death stare boring a hole into my soul as he asks “can you help me?”…. um, yes I say as I wish I had taken that break when it was offered. ” I want to renew these books, I don’t have time to read them, I’m working all the time every day and night”…. okay, I’ve heard his story before about where he works, how he is so desperate for knowledge he wants to read every fucking book in the library on every fucking topic….. technically I could’ve sent him to the circ desk, but I want to get him in and out ASAP.

Then “just a quick question”….right… i can feel it coming…. ” I want information on NASA. I want maps of Cape Canaveral Florida. Lots of maps of Florida… all you got….”

Okay. Trying not to lose it……NASA????? That giant government agency with multiple divisions and locations??? Right. He just wants to know how to get a job with NASA…. ” not only researching pollution, fixing the carbon emissions problem and the O-Rings thing that made the shuttle explode, but also researching the evolution of life on this planet and how it could develop on other planets. Just the quick info on Research and Development in geology and also teleportation or something…. I mean you have to be serious about all of this..”

I’m into the 30 minute mark with this dude and decide to punt. I tell him I want to call downtown to the Central Library and see if they can maybe help pinpoint the exact departments he needs to call but he declines. I find a general number, finally, that is buried on the NASA Employment page but I have serious concerns that this will be a recorded message only saying “please visit our website at ….” And in retrospect I am wondering why this perfunctory answer did not suffice. I wanted him GONE.

CrazyMadReferenceRefuseToDie Thing kicked in and I kept going. I could go on about my torture but I won’t. In the end, I gave him a phone number for NASA and a Children’s book on Florida (which he loved because it goes right to the facts…. “straight in….. like you need to go straight in”)….. Remarkably, when I suggested he take some time on the NASA site and look at the different divisions and what they do, etc.. he says he doesn’t want to look at their website, he doesn’t like computers… Well then! NASA is the place for YOU my Luddite friend ( maybe if you were Laurie Anderson and have a tune to give them for their annual theme song._) But even Laurie (and I post her name here with utmost admiration and love… she is the BEST) even Laurie knows about computers and the Internet….

But… after he had been all day in the library, as we were helping another patron, he approaches the desk, eyes FULL-BORE, lazers into me….. and he asks…. softly… “can I have a Latte in here??” I’m caught off guard … huh???? “Can I bring a Latte in here?” Yes, I say…. and watch him leave (hoping it’s the last time he’ll come back here)…. and crack up laughing as I exchange the “JFC” eyeroll with my coworker….

I am one. And I still have one. She’s 85 and still annoying to me on so many levels. But I do love her so I will call her and tell her. The best thing I can say about her today is that once upon a time she was a racist, a Bush supporter, and all that any southern conservative could be. She’s still conservative but this year she is supporting Obama. And she puts the smack down on any of her southern neighbors who grouse about a black man being president. I consider this a small miracle. So for that positive change, I say thanks mom.  BTW, check out my picture over at List of the Day.

http://listoftheday.blogspot.com/

So my friend D., the former psychologist, told me of an exercise he used to give his patients. Keep a list of all negative thoughts for one day, 24 hours. And then come back. With that assignment, I hereby pull down my pants for the world:

I hate my voice, I sound like a baby

I’m a terrible listener, I just want to watch LOST, and I have to hang up the phone during a friendly conversation

I’m going to die

I’m wasting away

I have chin hairs which I can never catch altogether

I’m a terrible mother

I better stop putting one negative thought per line because this post will take up my entire alloted space on wordpress ..

seriously, one hour of negative thought about ME could be a 3 volume, micro font set

so does 24 hours of negative thoughts mean you have to record the negative thoughts that come to you in dreams? because if not, we are talking only 16 Hours of Negative Thoughts.

But I can easily list the negative thoughts that come in dreams. No problemo.

I’m an idiot talking to myself on the blog.

IT IS TEN SEVENTEEN PM AND I AM GOING TO STOP BUT I’LL RETURN WITH EVERY NEGATIVE THOUGHT BETWEEN NOW AND 5 PM MANANA.

I’ll never catch up on LOST because I’m too stoned to even watch it in real time

I’m too tired to be stoned

Stoned? What am I? From the 70’s???

Yes.

Okay, this is maddening …. MUST…… STOP…..

Jesus…. no wonder people gave up on this exercise….. there’s no way.

UPDATE: I hate nothing about myself except for my neckline.  And that is a HUGE improvement.

Life on the Refrigerator Door: Notes Between a Mother and Daughter, a Novel.

I picked this one up off the “New” books shelf.  The title intrigued me. But then, to my horror, I read a few pages and discovered that this “novel” (see how they included “a novel” in the title??) is merely a series of notes, some only a sentence per page, between a teenage daughter and her mother.  Mom is a busy doctor and teenage daughter is , well, a teenager.  Talk about a waste of paper…… this is the most contrived and silly thing I’ve seen in quite a while. This makes me want to write a book super bad….  who did this Alice Kuipers person pay to get a favorable review in Publishers Weekly?  Or who did she screw?

The mom gets cancer, of course !!!!, and dies.  Well we knew one of them would die, right??? There. I’ve ruined it for you in case you wanted to run out and get a copy to read during that 15 minute bus commute tomorrow.  During the course of the cancer treatment they still communicate only by refrigerator notes. Puking my breakfast up now. Ugh.  This shit is about a bazillion times worse than those Nicholas Sparks sentimental goo books…   My memoir MUST be written…… and then I will find someone at Publishers’ Weekly to screw.

FOUR MORE YEARS !!!!!!! Thanks, Billary !!!