Oh, and for those folks looking for some Korean Ass…go here.
Oh, and for those folks looking for some Korean Ass…go here.
I’m distracted these days.
There are too many things to get done and to do and my room looks like a three year old ran rampant in it, unattended for about 7 horrifically sugar induced minutes. Work, writing projects, long and delightful correspondences, and the drama/scandal/delight which is BlindDateBlog.
Tonight I have a writing deadline which I need to attack, and some minor personal life maintenance things to deal with.
Additionally, I am surprisingly calm in spite of the fact that my car was hit & run today.
At 6:18 pm I exited and was at the stoplight which is slightly uphill. A car with the license plate that I memorized, was parked ahead of me. As the woman leaned over her seat to reach over, she came backwards at me and hit me with a thump. I immediately put my hazards on, stepped out of my car to look at the damage.
My car, mind you, is a Saturn. Which means many body panels behave like Tupperware. I walked over to the woman who was still in her car and she rolled down the window.
Moi to her “Are you ok?
Her “….” (no response)
Moi “Uh.. you rolled back and hit me..”
Her to me “No”
And then she just sped off without turning back. I hopped back in the car and called the police. The truth of the matter is, that the damage was minimal but there is a healthy scratch on my bumper. I would have been totally fine with the lovetap if she had at least stepped out of the car to acknowledge what had happened. Instead of bothering to talk to me she just sped off and tried to get away from me before I could memorize her license plate. Bitch. Too bad for her. A traffic report will be rammed up her ass shortly.
But I still smile.
Earlier this evening, while talking with my pops on the phone, he shared with me the speech that he gave last weekend at my brother’s wedding reception.
“Oh, uh… I just say thank you for coming…and you know… My son he marry over one year ago…and he and his wife still not live in same home…and then I say sorry …no drink because restaurant have no license for that selling alcohol…”
“So you didn’t say anything mushy for your son?”
“What for? Nah…”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there…”
“Yeah, I know…everybody ask where you are…I tell them you start new job so can’t come”
“You should have told them that I ran away from them asking when it would be my turn”
(Dad chortles and snorts into a series of giggles)
“So work ok?”
“Yup Daddy, it’s just fine. It’s moving moving.”
“I thinking, you maybe save money, buy new car…”
“I was thinking that too, my car’s got a load of miles on it”
“You should buy (insert name of obscenely oversized and gas guzzling tank of a domestic car here)”
“Uh, no”
“Why not?”
“Dad, gas is almost $2.00 a gallon here”
“So move closer to work then, don’t have to drive so much”
“Dad, my rent would double”
“ohhhhhhhhhhh….so you already thinking about that?”
“Yup Daddy…”
“I thinking last year (when you were humbled beyond measure as a santa’s helper and dating for sushi) that you learn good how to responsible yourself”
“Yes Daddy”
“Try to save and plan future. Your future, only for you.”
“Yes Daddy, I know.”
“Daddy so smart.”
“Yes Daddy, I’ don’t know why the papers don’t interview you as a genius”
“(chortle snort) Daddy not zjeeniyous. Daddy just know.”
“Yes Daddy.”
“No trouble ok?”
“No trouble daughter.I promise.”
“Ok. No trouble daddy too.”
“Love you, Daddy.”
“Yeah, I love you tooo my only daughter”
(insert smile here…the kind that warms from the inside of your chest and radiates outward from your skin to say that there are few things else that make you as easily happy and comfortable with the world)
It hurts so good.
For the first time in 4 years I worked out tonight.
My trainer/instructor wooped my ass with the rabid tenacity of a pitbull, or a mormon. Whichever.
I’ve already warned him in advance that I will call him very many unpretty names in the next few weeks.
To quote Ernie, “My ass hurts.”
Farewell and goodnight.
It’s been a good weekend
Friday: Rehearsal dinner, smack talk, & doing a ho’ train dance down the aisle of St. Martin’s Cathedral. Then chilling with a few folks at a salsa disco gay bar in Mountain View. I shook my ass with a darling man who’s got the face of Ricky Martin. He was kind enough to lick my ear. Oh, how the gay men tease me so.
Saturday: Wedding stuff. Big crazy wonderful congrats to Andrew & Janice.
Highlights: The ring bearer & flower girl dawdling down the aisle while “Here comes the bride” starts tearing in. The flower girl, who’s exuberance to toss rose petals could barely be contained the day before, was hesitant and shy beyond measure for the big day. She dropped two petals, and her brother, the ring bearer being so terrified that they were going to get in trouble, stopped in the middle of the aisle and picked up the petals to put them back in the basket.
Father Wafik, the famous priest who nearly put me in jail last year for grand theft auto, came in from Rome to perform the ceremony. Midway through his homily, he brought out a stack of papers an inch thick, to read excerpts of emails sent to him by the bride and groom, about their love for each other.
The reading of the emails, and the vows, both made my eyes just a wee bit moist.
The brother & sister-in-law of the bride almost missed their cue to bring the bread & wine for transubstantiation during the service. (yes, we’re catholic…it was a full mass)
My directional disfunctiuality was in full force, because when we processed down the aisle following the ceremony, I followed the best man & maid of honor when they took a detour. Which was.. apparently met with much confusion by the photographers.
The reception was sweet & quite fulfilling and it was brilliant to observe the following scenario.
D. the 19 year old sister of the groom in Chinese to her father “Daddy..where’s the hennesy, I want to drink some of that and I know you bought a truckload”
Father: the stodgy Cantonese dignified gentleman “It’s gone. I have to go talk to big uncle now” (as he discretely grabs both the bottle of wine and champaign that was otherwise right in front of his daughter’s grasp and immediately zips off…he looked, only for 2 seconds, like he was considering putting his daughter in rehab)
Moi: “Hey…he just took the booze”
D: “…”
Moi: “Oh, hey, (chuckle) never mind”
This was followed up by catching a wee bit of bonfire action over at Heather’s Bday shindig.
Coming straight from the wedding, I was still wearing my bridesmaid dress and three inch platinum heels. So what do I do? I grab my jeans and turtleneck and get in the back seat of my car while in the parking lot. Meanwhile, cars are parking on all sides of me. I strip and various headlights highlight me stripping down in my backseat. This is only further exasperated by the fact that it must have been a Pinapple bonfire going on that same night as college kids in greek sweats kept walking by my car. I swear, the last time I was half naked in the back seat of my car was *YEARS* ago. It’s weird to repeat that experience. And be alone. I think it’s somehow more disturbing that way. Then I teetered in my heels down to the beach, chilled with a few folks, wished Heather a happy one, and scampered off for Cowboy Bebop, hugs, & chilling with Ernie. We both needed a little bit of hugs and comfort.
Sunday: Sleeping in. And then sleeping in some more. Then sleepign in a little bit after that. Cleaning up. The impending date with Mr. B. was canceled *again*. Me thinks I give up on that one. Bad timing is one thing, but this is fricking ridiculous. Instead, my evening was capped off by catching Spiderman with some other pals after eating loads of sushi. Not a bad weekend. I have clean laundry and a clear conscience. Not bad indeed.
Poetica Spontenaium 5/4/02
This morning
you placed your thumb and index finger
around my wrist
encircling it, capturing a trill in my Hahn
in the same quiet gesture that said I was “O.K.”
Driving snaky roads
bespeckled with Sunday light through maples and birches
at just the right pace to cause
epileptic seizures to those inclined.
Shivery, with anticipation
I thought you would say something
I didn’t dare hope for a trio of trite words
I didn’t want them either.
I closed my eyes and let the light dance on them
trusting you to take me home
while we listened to Jose Padilla stir sunsets into guitar strings
And you said, with your thumb against my wrist
as if to tap into my pulse and see if it syncopated with yours,
“Everything.
Everything.
Everything
is O.K.”
The mischief over at BlindDateBlog has begun.
Wooooooooooot
The oddest non spam email received this week
DOES ANYONE WANT A PEACOCK???!!!
Seriously, my friend Trent Berry, one of GUITAR MAGAZINES’s top 100 guitarists to look out for in 2001, has a friend who has unique opportunity. Email me if you’re interested. Realize, that birds cannot be neutered/spaded and peacocks are known for a boisterous mating call. Even louder than mine, if you can imagine.
Poetica Spontenaium : 5.1.02
Was it so wrong
that when I was small
I’d trip off my shoes
and toes dip in oily puddles
thinking perhaps
with those rainbows
sliding slippery and sleek
sworling magnificently within oceans
captured in potholes
that I could be something
more other than the odd creature
with cracked fingernails
and freckles
In the summer time
I fought courageously with a golden lasso
Magnificent with my whopper crown
against the daunting sprinkler monsters that threatened to overtake my domain.
About 200 square feet of prickly kentucky bluegrass,
curbed by a garden that smelled of june cucumbers and potent peppers.
The neighbor boy pointed at me, guffawing from his side of the fence
I lost too easily and didn’t get enough sunshine that year.
Scouring layers of skin until the bathwater greyed
Umma made me believe that I too, were
something dull, chafey
That maybe, just maybe
with enough friction and soap
I could at least be presentable.
The mirror was unkind. Much like truth.
But in those slick puddles, I could believe otherwise.
(this is totally unfinished and fretfully rough but i like a few of the rambling phrases in here…)
Lest I never catch up, I better write a brief overview of the birthday party. It seems that most folks are too shy about posting the scandalous stories and others feel that the photos speak for themselves, which in fact is quite true.
Just highlights:
* Lemon Soju
* Kimchi Jjighe
* Cookies & Snackies
* Drag Queens
* Hottubbing
* Jello Shots with MBAs
* Almond Jello Shots Using Lactaid (and cocktail fruit marinated with Malibu rum)
* Sitting by the fire
* Watching the Transformers movie and the muppets projected on a wall
* Fireside chats
* The artists salon downstairs with the ultra hipsters
* Hacky Sackers in the dance room
* One guy struggling not to pass out, later puking, and then passing out with a bucket nearby – I later discover a distinct forehead oil mark on my mirror where I imagined he leaned his throbbing head to support himself. Ewww.
* Random fur from fuzzy slippers shedding throughout the house
* Kissing a real live adultlike man when I should know better
* Laughing with stellar superstars
* Being invited into a threesome and running off and forgetting that I should at least kiss them both
* Kissing birthday folks
* Oh, the lights.. the lights…
* Warm and totally delicious hugs
* Great music
* The cops came by but no big woop and we turned down the tunes.
* And being completely and utterly exhausted but satisfied at dawn when I finally went to bed.
Of course I don’t really get to spend enough time with folks, talking with them in a more intimate and less frenetic setting, but hey, that’s what birthday parties of the ultra insane type are for. Thanks kindly to Annie, Bill, & Rauchaud who were the other Taureans who made the Cocktails & Fuzzy Slippers party an ultimate delight.
And one minor damper on the evening.
18 year olds who crashed the party, attempted to steal booze, and did in fact make off with cash that was intended for the soju donation fund. I shall now run over 18 year olds at any following opportunity. This is not vindictiveness, I swear. But should I be an instrument of justice? Hey, why not? Bastards. Kids these days. Some gaul. Crashing a party. Lying to folks there. Stealing shit. And you *know* they’re probably really proud of themselves right now. I hope they lose a kidney.
In other news:
Went to the Locus Arts showcase commemorating Sa-i-gu with several phenomenal spoken word artists & performers who completely blew me away and had me audio orgasmic – the most amazing experience in the spoken word arena that I’ve ever had in my whole damn life. Phenomenal. Catch any of the individual performers when they’re in your hood and you’ll need an hour & a half to find your socks after they’ve been blown off.
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