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Archive for July, 2002

|| July 29, 2002 || 8:12 pm || Comments (4) ||

Okay, I don’t know how many of you have a hotmail account, so I feel it is imperative that I show you this:

It’s an ad from my hotmail inbox, and it freaks me the fuck out.

I mean, take a gander at the look in this woman’s eyes! Whose bright idea was it to use her in an ad campaign for this company, anyway? Here’s what I see: “I work from home in order to spend more time with my baby, who I am training to be a psychopathic, crazed homicidal maniac JUST LIKE MOMMY.” Surely there was a shot from the photo shoot that would have made a better layout, even if there wasn’t a saner-looking model available.

Loooook, the look on this bitch’s face scares me, and we all know that I don’t fear anything.

Except cockroaches. But that fear is justified. They are nasty little critters.

Okay, DRUMROLL PLEASE, because we have our first TACKY PACKtm winner:

HEY JO-ANN, YOU HAVE FORTY-EIGHT HOURS IN WHICH TO CONTACT ME. If you fail to do so, the prize will be forfeited to the runner up.

If you didn’t win this go-round, take heart. I will open submissions once again on 21 August.

Alright, that’s about everything. Good morrow.

|| July 28, 2002 || 4:46 pm || Comments (2) ||

*peeks head out from under covers*
*waits for all-clear signal*

The moments after the Blogathon are always sort of surreal. I don’t mean the moments directly afterward, where you are stumbling like a drunkard toward the kitchen for that last glass of ice water; I mean the several hours after you wake up from the post-thon sleep session. It’s like you were plugged into the matrix and you are allowed to come up for air…the world is a gentle assault on your somewhat raw system.

But everything looks fresh and pure in a way.

I can’t believe that I’m here, sitting in front of this box a mere nine hours after the whole shebang. As I recall, last year the computer stayed turned off for a full three days afterward. But that could just be fond reminiscing clouding my memory. As I’m too unmotivated to go and check the archives just now, I’ll trust you to do it for me and respond in kind. But then it may well never get done….

I had hoped to batch out an e-mail to each of you, my lovely sponsors, but I will simply post all pertinent info here and then maybe gently remind you in a couple weeks.

Your awesome pledge dollars should take the form of a check made out to either Tourette Syndrome Association or TSA. Please remember to write the addy of this site OR www.blogathon.org across the memo line (this helps Mark, my contact, know that pledges have been satisfied). This check should then be placed gently in an envelope, sealed, the appropriate postage affixed, and the following gets scrawled across the front:

Tourette Syndrome Association

42-40 Bell Boulevard

Bayside, New York 11361-2820

ATTN: Mark Levine

If you’d like to pay via credit card, then contact Mark at 718-224-2999, extension 230, or at mark.levine@tsa-usa.org. If you didn’t get in to pledge for one reason or the other, that’s okay, I’ll come kill you in your sleep you can go on and send a donation anyway. It’s not necessary that you let me know, but if you’d be so kind as to e-mail me and let me know, that’d be great.

My own blogathon efforts garnered $418.89 this year. Cumulatively, all the ‘thonners amassed over $58,000 in pledges. Fifty-eight thousand dollars. That’s quite incredible for one little upstart project, you know? Big ole cornball that I am, I am proud to have been part of such an effort for two years running, and have already pencilled it into my planner for next year. I hope this thing will only grow.

There were hiccups with this year’s growth (number of bloggers participating doubled, number of pledge dollars tripled), but that’s to be expected. When you add human beings to anything there is an unavoidable fuck-up factor. It’s like my cousin Stevie says, “We keep idiot-proofing shit, but they keep building better idiots.” I know. We are a family of lovelies. Imagine fifty of me in a room, and you could not even come close to approaching the madness.

Cat and her gang did a wonderful job. They are to be commended. Now if we could get all of those blogging on the same page, that’d be super.

I’m planning to post a list of worthy sites sometime soon. For now go and visit googlefish. She is a nutbag who contacted me unawares around three ay em with this (only a snippet of the madness):

“…and the weirdest thing was that at that moment, i swear my boobs grew a little. not much, but noticably.

“There was more, but i’m still processing the experience.

“can you begin to understand?”

She also entered these exhibits into blogathon scrutiny:

“Oh Guilty, bad, bad me ….
I snuck part of a smoke in my bedroom. I wanted to snoop on the neighbors without being seen. It’s reasonably quiet over there for a saturday night … welfare night’s next week.”

“I never understood why people collect things; matchbooks, spoons, star trek memorabilia … But a collection of thoughts? An accumulation of ideas? The bones of my memories preserved within easy reach?
Now THAT I get.”

“It’s almost 8 a.m., and no, I haven’t finished the laundry. I didn’t do any laundry at all in fact, so sue me. At least i’m kinda cute. I got that going for me.”

“….a blogathon is a lot like i imagine a star trek convention would be, except you don’t have to smell people, or talk to them unless you want to. But you still get to wear your pyjamas and hang out with the other weirdos. You can even dress like a Klingon if you want to, or not dress at all, and no one will care.”

*lowers head slightly and raises eyebrows* See what I mean? She is my new best girl and doesn’t know it yet.

Speaking of, TACKY PACKtm submissions are closed at midnight tonight. Get on in there. I’ll draw a name and hopefully post it tomorrow. If you have submitted (heh-heh) and haven’t yet gotten e-mail confirmation from me, then you need to re-send. Mmkay.

Now I am off to brush out the bedhead, remove the slippery silk robe, and slide into the bathtub to be cradled by warm water. After that I do believe I’ll take the notebook and the guitar to the park, where I will sing softly and slowly while the mosquitos chew on me. At least, until such time as the sun decides to set.

*gentle kisses to you all*

|| July 28, 2002 || 6:46 am || Comments (0) ||

..::and now, as is dictated by tradition, I will take my leave with one of my favorite songs::..

i was wasted in the afternoon / waiting on a train / i woke up in pieces and elisabeth had disappeared again / i wish you were inside of me / i hope that you’re ok / i hope you’re resting quietly / i just wanted to say

good, goodnight elisabeth / goodnight elisabeth / good night / good, goodnight elisabeth / goodnight elisabeth / good night

we couldn’t all be cowboys / so some of us are clowns / and some of us are dancers on the midway / we roam from town to town / i hope that everybody can find a little flame / me, i say my prayers, / then i just light myself on fire / and i walk out on the wire once again / and i say

good, goodnight elisabeth / goodnight elisabeth / goodnight / good, goodnight elisabeth / goodnight elisabeth / goodnight

i will wait for you in Baton Rouge / i’ll miss you down in New Orleans / i’ll wait for you while she slips in something comfortable / and i’ll miss you when i’m slipping in between / if you wrap yourself in daffodils / i will wrap myself in pain / and, oh, if you’re the queen of california / baby i am the king of the rain / and i say

good, goodnight elisabeth / goodnight elisabeth / goodnight / good, goodnight elisabeth / the moon’s a satellite, yeah

why don’t you fall down on me now / won’t you fall down on me / come, come, come fall down on me now / wontcha fall down on me

cause I’m all alone / and you ain’t coming home / we just settle down, down, down into bone / hey i said cause I’m all alone / and you ain’t coming home / we just settle down, down, down into bone

// Counting Crows, “Goodnight Elisabeth”

|| July 28, 2002 || 6:24 am || Comments (0) ||

I can’t wait to get into the cool comfort of my bed; to slide in there next to my husband and mold myself to his long body, smelling his rich warm scent on sleepy skin.

He has the hands of a bass player, strong and graceful and sure, and I love the way he places the flat of his palm against a curve here, into a dip there, and his fingers follow easy suit.

I like the way his eyes look when he first wakes up, all cat-like and sleepy, how slow and easy grins grace his mouth before he’s even had a chance to open his eyes to half-mast. I like his nearness. I adore his friendship. I enjoy the simple act of us sleeping alongside one another and I missed him last night.

I had a ball, but my body feels put out: not so much by the lack of sleep as it does by the lack of companionship in the wee hours.

Catch you on the flip side.

|| July 28, 2002 || 5:56 am || Comments (0) ||

Here is the part where I thank my sponsors. As corny as it sounds, I just find it crazy-overwhelming that you people have given so generously in regard to my charity:

nerdboy mikey
Jon Sullivan
–Autumn Grissom
–Kevin Hart
Red September / Static Records
– ‘Roo
Jakers and G and a cigar box full of treasures.

::: ::::::: ::: ::::::: :::

The Practical Guide To Southern Verbiage And Colloquialism For The Addled Ferner:

‘come on back’; to return to a location

“We shore enjawed havin’ ya….moanback any ole time, ya hear?”

|| July 28, 2002 || 5:25 am || Comments (0) ||

You are a very conservative and introverted person. You live in your own world and you’re not very easy to approach.

Which Blogging Tool Are You?

|| July 28, 2002 || 4:57 am || Comments (2) ||

Almost delerium time. I can feel it coming on.

I’ve hit the Mountain Dew (proudly manufactured and distributed by PepsiCo). Now you know.

The twilight is creeping ’round….sun will be here soon. Reminds me of those hellish days when I was a hard-core insomniac.

*sigh* Those were some sad, sad times.

Two hours to go, and I’m playing ’shake the head’.