Must See

Seriously, T.V. Deities, you need to stop making these new shows so entertaining/funny/engrossing. I need the boob tube to go back to how it was in say the mid 90's. Only Thursday night was appointment television. I have shit to do. Or I should. I should be reading, and writing, and cleaning. Maybe watching an old movie. But no, I'm trying to keep up with my damned DVR. Curses.

Why can't you suck? Why do you have to create worthwhile and challenging content? Why I say?

Then you answer with Honey Boo Boo and the Kardashians. Balance is restored.

Truth Out

I have been meaning to share this exchange since it happened, but other things have occurred;  all night bunny diarrhea fiascos, doctor visits, next door neighbour crisis (there was another that involved a late night trip to Del Taco and some hugging)  doping up my brother with ativan, Thursday night t.v. and laundry. 

When I got to the Halloween party last week I was closer to on time than 98% percent of the other invited guests (age and I don't know how to party) so this gave me a wonderful view to watch people arrive and check out costumes.  Two young girls showed up without costumes and were standing in the corner, so I made my way over to them.  I jokingly asked what their costume was...

Ashley- "I didn't wear one.  I'm that asshole that shows up without a costume.  Pretty bad huh?"
Me-  "If anyone else asks just tell them that's your costume, 'The Asshole that Showed Up Without a Costume'"

We laughed a really good laugh and for a while the three of us and a quiet girl in a Sexy Bee costume all stood by the stereo and, what do the kids say, oh yeah hung out.  (I am so not cool) Then Jango Fett mosied over.  At first I couldn't tell if he was Jango or Bobba from Vanessa's fun strobe lights and the fog machine, I guessed wrong.  He accepted my apology.  Then OF COURSE, talk of Comic-Con ensued and all that entails.  Somehow he didn't predict a grown woman wearing a Bob Ross costume would be a nerd, so he was genuinely surprised.  He then made a Fraggle Rock reference, but followed up with how I wouldn't understand it seeing as I was too young.

Jango-  "You don't know what I'm talking about, that's about four years out of your time."
Bob Ross-  Totally stunned.  "Uh honey, I'm 42."
Jango-  Silence.  Processing.  Processing.
Bob Ross-  Smiling.
Jango-  "Really.  I.  Never would have guessed."
Bob Ross- "So, how old are YOU?"
Jango-  Sheepishly "Um, 28."
Bob Ross-  Still smiling.
Jango-  "You know, my parents are only 5 years older than you and they LOOK LIKE SHIT!"

He said he thought his parents had given up on life and just didn't care anymore.  The Assholes and Sexy Bee witnessed this entire thing and were flabbergasted.  They wanted to know my secret so I tried to tell my truth without being professorial or preachy. 

The truth of the truth is I feel alive.  I do my best to feel it.  Just maybe, sometimes it shows on my face.  Even while wearing a big 70's wig and a fake beard.

Some Crazy Shit

Peanut had a difficult night.  Let me rephrase.  Peanut had a shitty night.  He literally had bunny diarrhea all over his cute fluffy and formerly white bum.  I was up with him until six this morning, not only washing his bum in the bathroom sink and swaddling him in a towel until he was dry; there was washing smooshed poops from his wood sitting bridges in his cage, scrubbing the bunny diarrhea trail out of the carpet, changing litter and filling the hay all while kissing him over and over to calm him down from the stress of it all.

After we both felt good enough to rest, he was snacking on fresh hay and I passed out on the couch in fresh poop free clothes.  I get a knock on the door and it is my neighbor Misty.  She is bewildered and can't look me in the eye.  She blurts out that she got a phone call telling her she doesn't qualify for SSI anymore.  I am so groggy I just stand there seriously confused.

After some time online, my own call to Social Security and doing my best to calm down a very scared and tearful Misty, I am taking her to her psych appointment and to the Social Security office on Wednesday. 

I keep using the word grateful.  It seems too simple, not enough.  Maybe that is it.  Not enough grateful.

Great Expectations

I'm at Maverick filling my tank when a Collie that has come loose from his yard is roaming not only the parking lot but crossing the busy intersection, then crossing it again to come back barking at people bewildered at the circumstances. There is rope training behind and he is clearly lost and looking to get home. People honk at him. He turns and goes the other way. I go inside and ask for the phone book so I can call animal control, which is of course closed for the weekend. I have to call dispatch and the very very kind young lady tells me that patrol doesn't come out for lost/wandering animals, only if they are dangerous. She is making the "Awwwww" sound while I tell her the story so she describes the dog as likely to cause an accident, so that would guarantee patrol to be on its way.

Not 2 hours later, after I go shopping for my Halloween costume I go through the drive-thru at In&Out for a veggie sammich and fries. There is a Magpie sitting next to the curb, not moving. The order-taker-guy and I are worried that he is injured but after some gentle encouragement, he flew off. Of course I told him my story of the day and he told me his own. He is from L.A. and a woman near him tried to help a black lab out of the street that was loose and SHE was hit by a car and killed.

I don't know what happened with the collie, he ran north on Washington. Maybe I have bad juju. Maybe there should be animal control on the weekends. Maybe I expect too much, then don't even deliver myself.

Now I am home with my safe, adorable and naughty bunnies. Honeycrisp Apples all around boys.

Pooped

Coming over to let the doggies out for their afternoon constitutional while the Parentals take a mini break with the new trailer, and to what do my wondering olfactory senses appear? A major diarrhea blowout of epic proportions in the front room. Bud greets me but has no interest in the front of the house, and Cooper? He is lying flat on his stomach hiding.

Hours later: shovel, gloves, cut up t-shirt, bucket of soapy water, hydrogen peroxide, Todd getting kicks, lit candles, open windows and Coopie escaping the back yard twice, I am now on the couch with two happy snuggly pooches at my feet while "Baby You're a Rich Man" plays over the stereo.

Todd said cleaning this mess would give me perspective. It has. Bunny shit rules.

Dating Rocks

I'm going to preface this blog entry with the truth that there are MANY reasons I have not been on a date in, yes count them 13 years. Among them being that I feel my health baggage is a lot to foist upon an unsuspecting dinner date when they ask "So, what do you do?" When even after all of these years the only answer I have concocted is the breezy and amazingly limber description of my status as "Successfully Unpublished Writer." What I am about to share with all of you is still bewildering to me, a shit ton of funny and more than a bit sad.

I went on a date last night. I'm good for the next thirteen years.

This fella met me VERY briefly through my parents while he was selling them their new trailer, then asked for my number the following day. My parent's obliged (more on that later.) We spoke on the phone after a majorly bizarre game of phone tag that included his calling my parents twice. It was like eating an awkward cake, with uncomfortable frosting sprinkled with more awkward. We were going to meet on Wednesday, somewhere to be determined.

Wednesday, he never called. I have no idea WTF I am going. I call him, and he decides on MacCools. Fantastic. I get there, sit at the bar and the staff start asking me what is up. I tell them all just the top of the story (date is late) so they start to tell me horror stories of girls stood up, and other girls taking dates for huge tabs. The waiter tells me I need to fire my parents, then says "well this lucky guy gets a date with a beautiful lady eh!?" I tell him he's smooth. Bartender gets me my drink and then says "this is why I don't date." I'm really wishing I was back home with my DVR and the bunnies, right then he comes in. He starts asking if he can bring in his guitar and his aboriginal drum and play an acoustic set for everyone. I try to direct him to a booth as fast as possible. The waitress had the funniest look on her face. She kept giving me the "I am so sorry" look all night. She even mouthed it once as I walked by to go to the bathroom.

Within 2 minutes of sitting down he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a crystal that he wanted me to hold so that I could be blessed by its powers from it being bathed in the moonlight. But wait, there's more. He had a total of six bags of stones and crystals on his person. This DOES NOT include the necklaces, rings and bags within the bags. He told me the name of every stone, every crystal and what they do, for him and what they guard against. Mostly his ex-wife and her negative vibrations. He was bitten by a dog recently and he couldn't decide if he was just a buffer for the universe or if his ex sent it. When I was able to speak I would comment how the stones were very pretty, and that some of the names sounded familiar. In my head I was worried that every time he handed me a stone all of my "HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT" energy was going to rub off and ruin his next higher plain meditation. But then I took another drink of beer.

In the space of two hours I learned about suicidal tendencies, aliens, plans for congress, court earlier in the day, his ex-wife's need for his seed and that he is going to hold a benefit concert while singing the song "Black Widow on My Back" (which he tried to sing to me) cuz that is what ex-wives are.

As we were leaving, I went to the bar to pay my part of the tab, but he had paid. The bartender looked at me and said "You can't win 'em all eh?"

As I fidgeted with my keys, he asked if it was too late to come back to my place to play some music. I said very bruskly "Yup. Going home. Going to crash." I hugged him goodbye. Pity hug. (so mean of me to say, I know.)

He called my parents today to tell them he had a good time. My parents are on suspension.