August 8
Starts:
Every day, I drive through an intersection with a blinking yellow/blinking red light. On my way to work, I drive the yellow road, driving home, the red. It's not a terribly busy intersection, so even at the red light, it's never a very long wait. This summer, the Regional Water Authority have been redoing all of the water pipes and there's been quite a bit of digging and noise and machinery. I only paid it mind when the workers came ringing our doorbell at 7:15 to ask us to move our cars, but that's neither here nor there, and has nothing to do with the story other than a general sense of being annoyed with noisy machines, and inability to drive down my own street and a giant blue plastic pipe at the foot of the driveway. The neighborhood work started with the redoing of the pipes, which didn't last too long or cause too much eye rolling. After a week or so of silence, in came the ground demolishers. It was very random: I left for work same time, same way as usual and everything was normal. I came home, and every single street leading to my house was torn up. They'd removed the top layer of blacktop, leaving a bumpy, snaggly, hard to drive on mess. No explanation, none needed really. Our tax dollars at work! We drove the bumpy roads, avoiding the now foot high sewer holes and hoping our suspension wouldn't be ripped from the undercarriage.
The reason I bring up the construction is that somewhere in the middle of all of all of it, between the pipes and the repavement, the blinking light stopped blinking. I'm not sure why or how much it has to do with everything being in a state of dissarray or whether they're going to change it to a regular light. I really have no idea. I blame in on the work, because it coincided. Anyhow, the light stopped blinking. It stopped doing anything at all, and was just there, dark, and I must confess that I probably drove through it--both ways--without ever noticing that it was dead for at least two days. Two days! That shows a great deal of faith in whatever system we have in place as human beings, doesn't it? That my remembrance of the light going this way, I have the yellow so they have to yield and the simple fact that other people know that they are supposed to have the red stops them, even when the light is a memory. Why did we obey a light that was no longer there?
I have not been blessed with the gift of a sunny disposition, though I truly wish I was. It seems that it would be an asset to me. Allegedly, years ago my grandmother said to my mother: "I never worry about Dana being okay, she has such a great personality, and that will carry her through life." Somewhere along the line, having a good personality became the kiss of death. Describing your new girlfriend as "Oh, she has a GREAT personality!" even in a tone devoid of sarcasm hits your friend's ear and is processed as "She is a Meat Mountain." Lest you think I'm making a sexist generalization about men and women, I am less likely to believe that a woman would describe a man she didn't like in such a general way, not "Oh, he was a turd, but he had a GREAT PERSONALITY!" but she'd go into the specific reasons he was a turd. Men just can't be bothered because men understand the "She had a good personality=She collects angel memorabilia, sleeps with several stuffed cats, speaks to her goddess, Barenaked Ladies loving slab" The specifics will change depending on the girl, but in the end, the Good Personality sleeps alone at night.
When did this happen? Moreover, WHY did it happen? Speaking as a keeper of what many people qualify as a good, or even GREAT personality (you're free to disagree, since I don't think you're too hot either, sunshine) when did it become okay to HAVE a great personality, but not okay for people to talk about you as having a great personality? The mind boggles.
My rabbits, since a few of you have asked, are doing just fine. They've even been given names! Pom and Flora. Pom and Flora in keeping with the Babar theme I seem to have adopted in regards to naming rabbits. Ignoring the fact that Pom and Flora in the story of Babar, are brother and sister, I think that those are fine names. They are stupidly cute. Flora and I (Flora is the brown one, go ahead, look) have come to a little understanding, inasmuch as a rabbit and a person can when they've only known one another for a few weeks. The understanding is that I am the Being With The Food, and therefore am Not To Be Bitten. Pom hasn't quite gotten the hang of feeling the love yet, but he will. I'm pretty much kidding about the biting thing, I've only had one rabbit with a hateful, biting personality and that was the sad story rabbit who eventually broke my grandparent's hearts. Fucking rabbits.
Pom and Flora are still kind of skittish. Unlike Celeste who, when you picked her up, would flop into a resigned heap, they each FREAK THE FUCK OUT as though you are trying to KILL THEM WITH YOUR BARE HANDS. So, yeah, we're working on the being picked up thing. The other day, when I was taking them out of the cage to let them run upstairs, you would have thought, by the scratches I walked away with, that they were fighting off a mighty enemy. Which, come to think of it, I still might be, to them. They're just too precious for words, though, and if you've never seen two baby lop rabbits all nestled together, one resting their head on the other one's back, you are sadly lacking in the adorable in your life and I feel very sorry for you. Please pass the bacitracin.
I have a terribly strange confession to make. I have a weird kind of freakgirl crush on a cartoon character. I know that there are plenty of you oh-gosh-I'm-so-hip-hipster-grrls (and you nerd boys, too, so don't think your secret is safe. I KNOW. Yes, I KNOW) out there who have little crushes on the Powerpuff Girls, so I've never felt TOO much like a super perv for my past crush on cartoon Spiderman. This new crush, though, is bad, even for me, but I'm not so much embarrassed by it as I am perplexed. It's got to be a good personality thing.
Sure, he's MEAT, but he's nice meat. Plus, there's that tooth. Shut up, he's cute. I don't want to talk about it anymore. If you've no idea who it is, well then, you aren't quite as cool as you believe, hey? All I know is that I get all happy when I see him on the screen, and if that's not true love, I don't know what is.
I have been obsessed with an internet radiostation for the past few weeks, and if you're unfortunate enough to work in my office, well, you've been treated to "Those Awful 70s" for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. Any station that plays Convoy and Welcome Back Kotter one right after the other is okay in my book.
I keep reading about how we're a fixin' to start a war with Iraq, and I'm going to break my typical don't talk politics silence to address this, a little bit. I love America. I love it no more or less because of 9/11, but I love America. That having been said, I must confess that in terms of Iraq, I don't believe a single word the president has to say. Every day, I read a new little snippet that the government leaks to the press to get everyone all riled up. The last thing I read? That Saddam is going to arm the Palestinians with nuclear weapons to use against both Israel and America, so, by god, we'd better start stuffing the cannons and pointing them over there! I am certainly not going to get into my deep feelings about the whole Israel/Palestine conflict, except to say that I must confess to being more on the Palastinian side of things than the Israel side, but please shut your angry little mail clients, I think both sides ultimately suck, and it's an opinion, kids, just like what you're entitled to have here in America! Right. So, arming the Palestinians. You know what? I don't believe it. I do not believe ANY of what our government is saying about it. I think that we're looking for a reason to start a war with Iraq, and they'll say just about anything to justify it happening. I think that the likely war with Iraq is about a son trying to finish off what his father started, damn the consequences.
Over the past month or so, I've been going to the casino a lot, even for me. Fortunately, most of the time the trips are funded by the Bank of Angelo and Eleanor, so I don't much spend my own money, beyond $20 or so. Last night, she called me (well, Angelo called but passed the phone over to her, after a two minute conversation that consisted a lot of "So...maybe we'll be seeing you soon, Dane, right?" and "Don't be a stranger, okay?") and asked what Nick and I were up to this coming weekend.
Me: Well, nothing, really. I don't know! We don't have plans, so far.
Her: NONE?
Me: Not really. Nick usually goes to karate on Saturday mornings, but I haven't made any plans.
Her: No plans at ALL?
Me: Nope, what about you guys?
Her: Oohhhh. Nothing. We'll just be sitting here. In the house. BORED. Bored, bored bored.
Me: Me too, probably!
Her: Sooo....if you wanted to take a ride up to the casino or something, we'd happily take the backseat!
Me: Heh, I'll keep that in mind.
People who find me these days have found me looking for:
dana
gangsters
la gangsters
bobofett.com
"antique sunglasses"
"get in mah belly"
banana fuck
boston snowglobe
dana's cam
have sex with a monkey
how to have sex with animals
stomach stabbing
monkey butt fuck
hot dana cam
dana love
checkered suspenders
peon 2nd sticker
the fattest monkey in the world
girl-love
shiny nylon swimsuit
picture of a monkey eating a banana
why are my jade plant leaves dropping?
i'm a thug
Let's drum up some more hits without resorting to hiding lame shit like "sarcastic funny GIRL! Great PERSONALITY!!" in my meta tags:
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I'll let you know how it all works out for me. Get going, web crawlers!
the other day - home - email - soon