Near-Greatness

At work this morning there was an email sent from someone who ordered a planner for 2007 and received one for 2006. The order was apparently placed in March, but she only just checked it now and wanted us to "send the right one out immediately" because she was "distressed and irritated"about the situation.

She had sent the email to the wrong company and the spelling was a little hit and miss, but I didn't care because it was signed Marni Nixon.

I started 3 replies alternately praising ("You should have received billing for the singing on 'My Fair Lady'") and condemning ("How do you sleep at night knowing how much Natalie Wood trained for 'West Side Story' only to have you come in like Kathy Selden on the sly and dub her?") until finally I just sent the robot response ("Unfortunately I do not show that you have ordered with -company name here-. You may have ordered it from the manufacturer directly. They can be reached at...").

It's as close as I've come with celebrity since Clive Cussler ordered a customized name plate.

Some of you may care.

Narc

Well that was a big week, let me tell you what. Non-stop action from Saturday to Saturday, with a sick day on Thursday, because I just could not keep my eyes open anymore. Cousin/roommate thinks it's narcolepsy. I think I was just action-wrecked. Spent the day on the couch watching movies: "Narrow Margin" great; "Towering Inferno" not so great. In fact, I feel asleep twice during the Inferno and each time I woke up that fecker was still on. (My God, has Steve McQueen reached the building yet?) Also checked out "The Big Lebowski" which has some really good moments, but has some irritating bits. The disk skipped so it was easy to by-pass the whole trip-to-the-valley part where they go to get the car. That part goes on just a little too long. I mean, I like Walter and all, but he's really irritating in that scene. The Dude says it best: "I love you, Walter, but sooner or later you're gonna have to face the fact that you're a goddamn moron."

Saturday was spent in Portland with a precious baby. No, I don't have pictures because I didn't remember about the camera until I was 65 miles out of Eugene. I've faced the fact that I'm a goddamn moron.

38 Only More So

Now that I have been home and frying for two days (103 degrees yesterday at 6:30 pm -- it's about 99 now. By the way, I love the Yahoo Weather distinction of "99. Feels like 99." Yesterday it was "103. Feels like 105.") I have had time to analyze completely the birthday changes.

There are none.

Since I'm dying my hair I have no idea if there are more gray ones. I still ride the bike to work (cooler than sitting in a car, alright alright). I'm no more concerned with my cholesterol than I was last week when I was only 38. It's been a huge let-down. Based on the birfday conversation with the brother and various friends and relations, 40 is pretty much the same. I have a feeling all the metabolism changes really did hit at 25 and I've got a few more years before the sagging starts. I figure 45 or so for the sagging. This means that I can start the "That's when she began drinking heavily" phase of my A&E Biography now while I've still got some stamina.

I've also played with my presents. DWilt, you the man.

not so hot

Had a nice vacation in the OC -- not profitable by any stretch, but nice. Mom and I went on the annual gambling junket with the aunts and the uncle, but no Vegas this year because gas is too pricey. Instead we went to Pala, which is cheap, fast and filling. It's sad to think that last year in Vegas we were putting our dough into quarter slots and this year it was all pennies. In fact, twice I ended up on nickel machines by mistake and freaked out at how fast $20 could disappear. When we weren't gambling or eating or crying in the room, mom and I were getting sunburnt by the pool. That's always the best part of the trip. We just relax, get fried by the sun, smoke Virginia Slims, and drink margaritas. Honestly, there's nothing that tops a week of gambling, smoking, drinking and burning.

Sort of like Burning Man, I guess, but with slot machines and drinks ... and clean folks. Although some machines had an odor-linger. Boy, nothing clears your luck faster than a stinky machine.

Highlights:
- "You're not bringing that on the plane, are you?" spoken with disgust by a girlfriend to her boyfriend who had a McDonald's bag. Girlfriend was wearing gold, spangled Mickey Mouse ears.
- The Monkey Lady, who would flat-hand slap the slot buttons and appeared to be irritated when she won bonus rounds. I kept waiting for her to beat the top of her head and show her teeth. "Jackpot party? weeee weeee weee aarhhh ahhhhhhhhhh!"
- Driving Pop's super monster Truckasaurus. This thing came with 2 zip codes and a stewardess. It was great fun to barrel over the top of Miata's and Audi TT's. It was, however, a bee-otch to park.

(ha! the cousin has just been waylaid by a missionary at the door. sorry, honey, we're all definitely broke here.)

I'm Freee-eeeee

And freedom tastes nothing like reality, but it kind of tastes like a Louie Blue Raspberry Otter Pop.

Vacation is official. Cousin/Roommate and I have already played a round of mini-golf and I've had a beer. Next stop mom's house for many adventures. Next time you hear from me I will be broke, hungover and 39 years-old. That's 273 in dog-years.

(yes, I needed to use a calculator to figure that out. so what.)

California here I come.

Confession

You all deserve to know this about me ...

I'm dying to see Little Man.

That is all.

Not Too Old Not Too New

Now that my anger at France and Zidane has dissolved into sadness and disappointment I can move on. I've decided that this will be an all 20th Century literary summer. So far the books I've read have all been recent-ish, but not too recent to be 21st Century:

Lady Oracle by Margaret Atwood
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
Thank You For Smoking by Christopher Buckley
and now On the Road by Jack "call-me-Sal-Paradise" Kerouac

I'm going to pass up the stacks of Dumas (fils and pere), George Meredith (there's still one I haven't read yet), and anything beyond 2001, and just stick to the last century of fine fiction. This still leaves me Faulkner and Sherwood Anderson, as well as a couple of other Margaret Atwoods ... although maybe I should have a no-duplication policy to keep favoritism out of it. We'll see. Sadly, the no-21st Century rule leaves out the novelization of "Lost" that mom gave me at Christmas:

Sayid deftly ducked a punch and then landed a vicious jab to Sawyer's solar plexus ... The two of them hit the ground hard, still doing their best to pummel each other.

When will they learn to get along?

Zinedine Zidane Bad Man

Mi piace molte che l'italia vincano. Non gli ho tifato, ma ora contento perche la francia hanno giacato molto brutto.

Boo la francia. Boo.

Rooney was just playing the ball, ref

This is by far going to be my favorite news item from the World Cup:

England striker Wayne Rooney said Monday he was "gobsmacked" by his red card in the FIFA World Cup™ quarter-final against Portugal and said his apparent stamp on an opponent "didn't warrant" his dismissal.


"I'm bitterly disappointed to have been sent off in a World Cup finals match for England," Rooney said in a statement.

"I remember the incident clearly and have seen it several times since on television. I am of the same opinion now as I was at the time that what happened didn't warrant a red card.

"If anything, I feel we should have had a free kick for the fouls committed on me during the same incident.

"I want to say absolutely categorically that I did not intentionally put my foot down on Ricardo Carvalho. He slid in from behind me and unfortunately ended up in a positioning where my foot was inevitably going to end up as I kept my balance. That's all there was to it.

"When the referee produced the red card I was amazed - gobsmacked," the 20-year-old said. "If you ask any player - and indeed almost any fan - they will tell you that I am straight and honest in the way I play. From what I've seen in the World Cup, most players would have gone to ground at the slightest contact but my only thought then was to keep possession for England."

(AP Photo/Matt Dunham)

pull the other one, Rooney. it's got bells on it.

The Richmond Gimlet or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Gin

When I was 18 I was a court jester for Halloween, complete with painted symbols on my face and an agenda of mischievous frivolity. That night at a friend's house I went through 4 gin tonics in about an hour ... maybe an hour and a half. At the 5th one I staggered to the bathroom where I spent most of the night, struggling home at 3 am. My father didn't ground me or impose any kind of teenage restriction. As I was flat on the couch trying not to move I was the subject for a lesson to the little brother on the horrors of alcohol drinking: "So why is she sick like that?" "Because, son ..." It was a lesson, by the way, that the brother clearly didn't learn anything from, except that he eventually found a way to get around the hangover. It also led to this great line from dad: "I'm not going to punish you, because what you're going through now is punishment enough." Gee, thanks dad urnmwaahhhhhhhhaup oh Godddddddddd.

For years I couldn't go near gin. The smell of it made me physically ill. Even thinking about gin made me physically ill and I would chew Razzles to get the memory-taste of it out of my mouth. (Later I would drink bottles of white Zinfindel to cover the taste ... I was so very young ...)

Yesterday I had a Richmond Gimlet. I have been toying with the idea of gin for the last few years, but yesterday was my first true, full-length test and it couldn't have gone better. I had two and developed a nice buzz, completing the evening with a first and last bookend of Sessions beer. This morning I had no hangover ... ... ... although the tummy is not happy and not excited about the digestion process, but I blame that on ... erm ... well it could be anything. Couldn't be the gin. Gin is good.

From www.extratasty.com

2 parts Gin

1.5 parts Lime juice 1 part Simple syrup

Shake gin, lime juice and simple syrup with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

VIVE LE FRANCE!