brain death

Wow. These girls are amazing. Personality, sweetness, hilarity… these girls are amazing. Did I just say that??? I never thought I could love rats so much – I’m a dog person.. but they are like extremely small dogs…. they come when you beckon (usually), they jump on your lap, they want to be with their humans. They’re crawling on me as I type this very blog. And they are so funny to watch… hunched up on their hind legs looking for the next adventure, yawning as they lie snuggled together in their hammock.. running around the house, Baby’s nose to Delilah’s tail…. endless entertainment…

Oh.. and then this came to me this morning…

I felt strangely happy today. Probably because the sun was actually out for a while. “Strange” because happy is not an emotional state I’ve experienced in quite a while.

This winter/so called spring has been really hard on a lot of people in my life. I don’t know if we can attribute it to Bush, global warming, the flu epidemic, the economy, Iraq, general malaise or what – but I would say it’s been a rough few months… and then it came to me:

We’re all just here to hold each other up. To help each other through the shit that life deals. That’s it, plain and simple. The meaning of life. It’s about the people you hold dear and being there for them. If we come across people who are not going to be there for us and help in the holding up, then we have to let them go or at least not count them as part of our primary landscape…

Male or female, friends, family or lovers…. we are only here to support and help each other … and we’re all a little crazy on some level. So we don’t need to beat ourselves up for our shortcomings because we all have them. The key is helping each other out.

I don’t know. It helped me crawl out of my hole. Maybe it will help you.

PS: And and then there was John Stewart asking Obama tonight: “If you win will you enslave the white race?” Now we all have to love that…..


This day at the library has pushed me over the edge. I spent about an hour listening to an older Romanian gentleman telling me the story of his life but I could only understand about every 5th word he was saying…something about all the money he had and a woman he married who stole his jewelry although he had bought her a Lamborghini . And yadda yadda yadda… it finally dawned on me that perhaps he was a little nuts but I was kind of getting into just smiling and nodding. And thinking about that $1,800 car repair bill I have to pay tomorrow…. hmmm……  As I was still recovering from that interaction, another older guy came in and asked about getting a book so I flat out asked him “do you have a Lamborghini ?””” as I and the other librarian were rolling on the floor laughing… and the man says “no, but I have a BMW”… so I was trying to get him an ILL but he said he was on his way to the Carribean at which point I said wait till you get back to do this dude, but if you want me to go to the Carribean with you I will.  Of course, this is all highly inappropriate and unprofessional but hey! I’ve got bills to pay people.  I have 2.5 hours left in this shift and I just am praying to the god of Lamborghinis that I make it through without totally losing it.


Where DOES it all end? Obviously it ends after all is said and done. After the fat lady sings. When pigs fly, when hell freezes over, when you move into upper management, when you’re marinating in soil and worms, when you’ve moved into shart mode, the jig is up, the farm is bought, the hellish sensation that you’ve been there before sets in, tax season grasps you by the balls and nails you to the desktop, the seratonin uptake inhibitor is neither uptaking nor inhibiting, in fact you are exhibiting on the downbeat, and the symphony is playing on and on. You’re toast. You’re so yesterday. Your mold is showing, your eyes have seen the glory of the coming, you bet the farm and your dog died too. You’ve gone to the dirt archives. The cat is on the bed. You’ve put the smack down on it all, you eat the big one, you eat the little ones too, and then they eat you. Repeat.

I don’t even eat Pringles. Tonight I bought some on an impulse- a whim… a devil may care attitude of so what? Sometimes I just go a little crazy. Had no intention of eating them. Much less, eating them all in one sitting. But I was thinking about it. After smoking a little pot is when I was thinking about it and … Let’s just say I now undeeeeeeeerstand how I gained all that weight back in the 70’s. And I repeat I am NOT a pot smoker but once in a while I will partake and thank GOD I don’t usually do that because now I could eat everything previously deemed inedible in my kitchen. .. .. in fact I think I just ate some moldy bread and we’ll hope that’s not more hallucinogenics in the mold .but I digress.

The fucking PRINGLES, which we count on As Americans to be in tact, solid full potato chips when we pluck them from the tube which is PRINGLES trademark packaging… the tube which is supposed to protect and fortify the fucking PRINGLES that we are paying for… the mere name …. the sheer novelty and yummy chemically correct taste…. with all that god forsaken mother earth fucking packaging, gonna rot a hole in the earth packaging….. the fucking PRINGLES were not CHIPS... but mere crumbs……. i mean CRUMBS!!!!!! there had been no untoward jostling of my grocery bag. In fact the Pringles pledge adheres to strict unison of uniformity in the Pringles chip so the question of jostling is moot anyway…. so fuck you PRINGLES.

Shit. I’m hungry again…. gotta go eat some more PRINGLES CRUMBS…… ahhh. a better way to enjoy PRINGLES SCRUMBS…. i mean crumbs… is to mix them in with a little chicken tikka masala with brown rice….. that was SO TOTALLY worth the break in my train of thought.

Anyway…. here’s the photographic evidence of the TRAVESTY OF THE PRINGLES

UPDATE: NEW SANDWICH DISCOVERY: Actually a new twist on an old favorite. Peanut Butter, Mayonnaise, Alfalfa Sprouts, Crushed Pringles, and that yummy Asian Sweet Chili Sauce all on some mushy wheat bread……  mmmmmmm

I don’t know why we celebrate this day but I’m glad we do cause the library is closed and I have the day off. This is a momentous day in the tiny little world of this librarian. Having been the high bidder on the auction package titled “Mayor of West Seattle”, I garnered some questionable “prizes”. A couple of tickets to the local mini-theater, a once a month free mac n’ cheese at West 5 for a year (supposedly great mac n’ cheese but it makes me wanna barf), booking bands of my choice for one night at a local bar (they don’t pay the bands, I don’t know what the value of this prize really is….) and last but not least the famous mezzanine party at Mission Restaurant and Bar which will be tonight. The party was advertised as 50 cent “beverages” for up to 50 people for an afternoon. The “beverages” turned out to be PBR.  I don’t even drink beer. I was a little disappointed. (see below for the post-party recap)

But this is also a little anniversary of sorts for me and the so called “boyfriend” who I refer to that way for lack of the time and energy it would take to call him my friend with benefits. Because for a short period of time he actually was my boyfriend. Then there was the painful disentangling that was chronicled right here on this very blog. Now we’re into the “when you find the time” come over and screw me please phase.  And that works for the most part.  The fact that he is openly open to screwing other women is sometimes problematic. But if I had anyone else in my life I’d probably be doing the same. I finally realized I have not one fraction of what it takes to carry on a real relationship. I am lacking the genetic makeup, my psyche was trounced on at an early age, I’m selfish and self-centered. And a little more than crazy a lot of the time. So I should be just fine accepting that T4 is not to be the “one to watch ANTM with me” as he put it during our split.

I started this post before the party. It is now 2 days after the party and I’m still not recovered. It was a great time I must say. The “boyfriend” was only there for 30 minutes, having forgotten that he had to pick up his daughters although we had been talking about the party for what? 3 months or so? Anyway, he was also oblivious to the anniversary portion of the celebration, despite my having talked about that on more than one occasion as well….  but I was fine with it. There were tons of hot boys there, all waiting to do the Mayor’s bidding…. we had a private bar, big screen tv showing Project Runway, 4 excellent draft beers to choose from (just a buck for a pint!) and as Mayor, I got a decent chardonnay for a dollar a glass. A bottomless glass.  About 35 people showed up, we had runway walk-offs, food, a blast. The evening ended with some karaoke at the sleazy Chinese restaurant across the street and a sleepover at my house with TC, HC and a guy who I will not name in order to protect the innocent. Nobody felt very good the next morning but we were relieved that we did not engage in group sex as I was suggesting at about 1 a.m. just before we all passed out.

UPDATE ON THE PERSONAL AD: I took it down. I was obviously not going to get anything approaching normal out of that. I did make contact with Brad,  the old bf, but he is practicing Public Health in the remote villages of India and I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon.

Blah, blah blahdie blaahhhhhhhh


Sometimes I just get sick of myself and want to curl up on a nice vagina couch. Thanks to List of the Day.

So. It’s come to this. In a moment of rare sobriety I decided it was time to take action and put myself out there. On a singles’ site. But it’s The Stranger’s online site, the Lovelab. For those who don’t know The Stranger, it’s Seattle’s alternative weekly newspaper. I figured my chances of meeting like-minded lefties/hipsters would be better there than on the traditional dating sites. I’m not looking to hook up with anyone, just thought it would be fun to meet some new men and have a few people to hang out with that are closer to my own age. Most of the friends that I socialize with are in their 20’s – 30’s and I’ve been feeling like maybe I should expand my horizons. The man I would prefer to hang with has made it fairly clear he is not going to be that guy for me, so I decided to be proactive in finding someone who does want to hang with me. After all… I’m not so bad. Am I? I’m fairly attractive and hip for someone born before Kennedy was President. Aren’t I? C’mon folks, my self confidence (the speck that I had) has been jarred by this experience……

So here’s my ad. I didn’t want to invest a lot of effort and time. I mean if I look like I care too much that’s not cool right? And I had not one recent decent picture of myself to post. With those provisos in hand, I published. 2 days in and I’ve only had 2 “flirts”.. these are like little nudges. The first from a guy who is 5’6″ (!!!) and claims to be an actor.. his headline: “Stroke Hell’s Kitten Tenderly” (okay, that’s not bad actually) and here’s his picture. Judging by the hair on the chick, I’d say this one’s from the 80’s. Other pictures include one with a silver haired tranny. Pass!!!

The second “flirt from “Dark Lord Of.The.Sith Seeks Apprentice”… and it goes downhill from there. The post is the longest most boring and bizarre thing I’ve read in a while… here’s a nugget: “Whenever I can spare it, I love sharing food with crows. I also like feeding squirrels whenever I have some nuts and a glove. Due to having been bitten by one years ago, I never feed them without a glove. With the sole exception of a single neurotic feline that didn’t like males, cats and I have always gotten along real well.”

And then! (sounds of angels singing that heavenly chorus..ahhhh ahhhhaa aaa ahhhh)… there he was. My old boyfriend from about 13 years ago… I came across his ad during a search for men age 48-50 (as I was writing this post, no less.) Brad. Hot Brad….. cute then and cute now. Socially conscious, smart, literate, gainfully employed in an honorable profession Brad….. of course I e-mailed him but it doesn’t look like he checks his site very often. “last active within 3 months”…. oh well… I have other ways of tracking him down. I know where he lives. I know what library he goes to. Hmmm…. maybe Frozen Hell won’t be so bad after all……
I’m going to update this post as the tedium unfolds…..

UPDATE:  Then there was this guy, a lawyer supposedly. At least he responded to my e-mail. I simply suggested he get in touch. He responded. “Thanks for the e-mail. I don’t think we would be a good match. Good luck in your endeavors” or something like that. I suspect either (a) he’s hoping for hot younger chicks, or (b) he didn’t like my looks and/or profile… sigh…yawn…. Anthropoligical undertakings continue…….

UPDATE: Got a message from Brad: “Hi Marty, I’m sitting in an internet cafe in Bhuj, Gujarat, India. Too funny to hear from you now. I don’t think I’m gonna make it to the party.” (party I’m throwing next week)….. Hmm. India. He did give me his e-mail.

oh christ…… this will be too painful to continue…. let’s just say ZEBU52 sent a message today. Is his picture a joke? Flowing gray hair and beard  down to his waist to match. On the other hand, his e-mail was rather charming. Claims to be an attorney who does only poverty law and social causes. Right. Now let’s take a valium and pray to god that tomorrow at work will not be as bad as today. Sunday: I felt compelled to at least acknowledge the e-mail from Zebu52. “Thanks but no thanks – keep up the good fight. ” Other than making contact with Brad and getting some blog material, I’m pretty sure this is an exercise in futility.

Patrick Swayze lookalike chimes in: another “flirt”… sorry folks… it won’t go on forever. Promise. I want to run naked down the street screaming ……and not happily.

I hear they like mature women in France and Italy.  Arrivaderci!!! Adios! Aur Revoir !!!!

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