My Ex wants me back for an indefinite contract. Temp-to-perm!! Yippeee! I’M ELATED!

Looks like they are working out their ‘commitment issues’. So now we’ll at least be living together. Maybe one day they will even make an ‘honest girl of me’, and give me a Ring.

{giggles like a girl}

Caryn Leschen once said:
“Thirty-five is when you finally get your head together and your body starts falling apart.”

Strange…for me it seems more like thirty-five is when I’ve finally gotten my body together and my head is starting to fall apart.

Seems my old employer can’t get enough of me. They called end-of-day Friday and said they want me back ASAP. I’ll know more details on Monday, but it looks like a pretty good position. (Same overall department, but more external communications instead of internal.)

It’s always a bit interesting being back in bed with your ex. But in this case, I know we had a good thing going when we were last together, and it always felt like our relationship was cut unfortunately short for situations outside of our control. Maybe we’ll be able to find a way to make it work this time. I’m sure they still have ‘commitment issues’, but at least I’m going in aware.

I sometimes forget how much I like ‘Live’ music, but lately it seems like I’m becoming a regular Heather Knox groupie. I’ve seen her a couple of times in the past week. She has an amazing voice and a great live energy. She does a cover of Johnny Cash’s ‘Burning Ring of Fire’ that I absolutely love.

I love it when Girls Rock!

I was at “The Office” earlier today, enjoying some friendly camaraderie. Blyss and I were enjoying watching as a lesbian hook-up ensued. One woman was clearly hitting on the other, who was most likely straight. Watching the first woman work for the ‘toaster’ was truly amusing. Blyss and I were sitting at the bar and they were at a nearby table when:

Blyss: Did you see that?
Hauself: No, what happened?
Blyss: Oh, you are eyes T blocked.
Hauself: What?
Blyss: eyes T blocked [she makes a “T” symbol with her hands.]
Hauself: I don’t know what you are saying?
Blyss [slowly and with accompanying sign language]: You are Iced Tea Blocked.
Hauself: Ah…. I get you. Ok. Yes. I missed it. I thought you were throwing some new ghetto speak at me and I couldn’t figure it out.

What had happened was Blyss had a clear view of the couple and witnessed some ‘move’, while from my vantage point of the incident, I was being blocked by the large iced tea tank situated on the bar for easy delivery to the lunch crowd.

Whew. I thought I was out of touch with some new ‘urban lingo.’

So if you are chillin’ with the crowd, and happen to witness something your friend doesn’t, just roll up on ‘em and say, “ Yo, what are you “iced tea blocked?”

Maybe it will be in Webster’s next year. Hee hee.

The other day I had a great, unexpected phone call that made me really happy. I was sitting with Pandora and Turtle and in my happiness I just beamed, when suddenly I said, “Ok, so enough about that.” At which time Pandora said, “No, go ahead and float on that cloud, Girl. You float on depression longer than that.”

So, I got back up on my cloud and took advantage of the opportunity.

If anyone is looking for me, tilt your head up, it’s #9.

After the fabulous and highly conversational Pisces party at Casa de Cracker, my ol’ dancing-fun buddy, Boots [A BIG thanks to Kitty for letting us borrow her for the evening] and I coerced the ‘rangutan, Turtle and Sparkler to hit the after-hours scene down at the Village in the Gayborhood. I love that late night scene. It is so high energy, sexy, raw and sorta animal [in a really good way.] It’s ALL about the dancing at that point.

I measured the event a total success because I was driving home around the same hour some folks go to work, my hair had begun to clump back into its best pre-arranged Redkin™ ordained configuration after being thoroughly sweaty, I couldn’t light my last cigarette due to excessive moisture, and I had to peel off my soaking wet jeans. In addition, I had the hint of what I could only ascertain as approximately 6 different types of cologne permeating the fabric of my clothing.

Ah, I feel new lyrics for now coming on.

——

p.s. It just occurred to me that if my refigerator could be one kind of restaurant every time I opened the door, it would be of the chinese food variety. [But, alas, it mostly seems to be peanut butter/crackers or tuna/rye toast. Damn.]

I spent most of yesterday lying flat out vacillating between sweats and chills, and often experiencing both at once. I left my prone position only for the inevitable unpleasant bathroom break. Ugh.

I would have enjoyed sleeping better last night, but I did get some. However, I think I am beginning to return to the land of the living. But I’m still being gentle with myself.

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who like to drink beer;
The Inwood Lounge has its secret tales
That would fill your blood with fear;
Our city’s lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night at the bar with my friends, from afar
We witnessed ol’ hook-armed Crackey.
[Apologies to Robert Service]

Credibility. It’s a challenging trust to be attained sometimes. A person alone can witness something so amazing that others find it hard to imagine and even harder to believe. And I admit that if I had not been present at the event itself I would have thought any teller of this tale was exaggerating. And had I been alone to witness it, I might have even thought twice before I tried to convince others of its veracity. But with the strength that comes in numbers, I am able to recount this amazing incident.

Roger and Sparkler can attest.

So, the three of us entered the Inwood Lounge a few evenings ago to engage in one of our favorite pastimes, mocking. Little did we know that we were about to hit the jackpot. There were quite a few couples who were easy targets for our amusement. Suddenly one fellow screamed for our attention. But what mocking could be done. He was ‘instant mock’ without anyone saying a word. The glaring detail that beckoned us was the fact that his pants were so low on his body as to reveal not only butt-crack, and an overly hairy one at that, but I swear it might have been scrotum that I witnessed. [OK, so now I am exaggerating, but only a bit.] Really folks, this fellow had his pants so low that all any of us could do was sit wide-eyed, jaws agape and stare. Few mortals on this planet have ever made this threesome speechless. That alone is an awesome feat and worth recounting. However, this man was not ordinary. In addition to his state of undress, as we continued to observe him in amazement, at the end of his arm where one would expect to find a hand, he had a hook, an artificial appendage to replace the one he had obviously lost. Now a man with a hook is not necessarily funny, and a man with half his ass showing is only a minor hilarity, but a man with both is almost unreal. He proceeded throughout the evening with his pants at half-mast to our utter horror. His companion never alerted him to the situation. We stayed until after ‘last call’ to see if the situation would be remedied and only after the lights were turned on and he made his way to the men’s room did one patron loudly proclaim, “Hey buddy, nice Crack.”

I’m delighted to know that both of my companions certified that had the tables been turned both of them would have not only advised me of the situation, but would have actually taken matters into their own hands and ‘hiked up my drawers’ themselves.

Now really, what are friends for?

Just had another accident 100 yards from my window.