Archive for the ‘MF Diary’ Category

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“I Think Wendy Ho Is Pretty, Mom”

Saturday, November 14th, 2009

Today I went to Puyallup, YES all the way to Puyallup with my brilliant friend who goes there to get Sonic. Sometimes you just have to do the short road trip. Then we ended up at his favorite pub, where there ratio of dudes to ladies was me, to, well, many, and I was very happy. I wonder about “intruding” on men’s space like that.

A couple of years ago I went to the Dory Alley Fair in San Francisco and I hoped it was okay that I was there. I was very happy, anyway. It was so crowded that at certain points I felt I was being carried along like a salmon by a bunch of giant, (mostly) strapping, seriously gay men. I don’t want to be where I am not wanted, but at the same time I felt so safe and happy and invisible there. I felt like I was Nuala at some kind of fairy ball, yes, pun intended.

Speaking of which, how is project Reclaim Your Fucking Space coming, you ask? After leaving the pub, I decided to head downtown to catch a bus that would slingshot me straight to my house, rather than wait for two. I walked past a coffee shop I walk past every day on my way home from work and I passed a middle-aged white man who was futzing with his bike. As usual, I had my giant earphones on and was walking purposefully with my eyes straight forward.

“Nice hair!” he said, as I passed. I did not blink, speak, or break my stride. “YOU’RE WELCOME,” he called out as I continued on. I moved slightly to slide one of my headphones back, an ace move if you are evesdropping on the bus or whatnot.

“Fucking bitch,” he said, more quietly. I disappeared into traffic.

So. Did I tell you Franny got lice again? We dispatched them pretty quickly. Looks like the vector was SeaFed’s house. Franny came back and told us stories of her other sister being lousy with, you know, LICE, and also pink eye and for some mysterious reason her toe was green. GANGRENE? DOES THE CHILD HAVE GANGRENE? I am so pleased to hear hear her mother is spawning again.

I am having a cooking epic tomorrow. I will finally post pics. Here it is almost Fangsiving and I have not even posted Halloween pictures. Ay yi yi. See you tomorrow.

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Posted in MF Diary | 3 Comments »

MORRISSEY DO NOT PUSH OFF

Monday, October 26th, 2009

YOU GUYS, I ALMOST DIED! Okay, that is a slight exaggeration, and by “slight” I mean “not true at all.” What happon is that I started a new job that is making me 79% less homicidal. YEAH! I love it. No more veal pen. They can see my smart as if my head is transparent and they are going to use it. I feel confused being in a place where diligence and cleverness is rewarded, but I will probably adjust.

I have some advice for you: the best thing you can ever do is quit a wretched job ON YOUR BIRTHDAY. For me the timing was right, but man was it great. On being asked if I was going back to HQ to drop off my badge and such I got to reply “NOOO IT’S MY BIRTHDAY AND IMA GO GET DRUNK.” I might have shouted slightly. I am the soul of professionalism.

So I turned in my badge to a supervisor a couple of levels up, as I was asked to do, since my former boss was actually located in another city. And then DOH, I was trapped in the building since I had no way to badge out of the parking garage. The admin did not have a temp pass or anything to give me, so I had to wait for security, who I then hit on on the way down to the garage (I had to, he looked like Luke Wilson). I was GIDDY with Escape from Fail Mountain.

Then my fabulous friend took me to lunch at the elegant and classy Red Robin, where we munched 3,000 fries and grilled cheeses and fruity boozy ahoy. I came home with a bottle of wine, made a curry, and hung out. Then some things happened that would singe your eyebrows off, gentle reader, so I shall exclude them.

IN CONCLUSION. I am happier about birthdays again, volunteering for the film festival is over so I can go back to hibernating in my house. It has been POURING lately so I am having second thoughts about running right now. But I think I found a yoga studio near work that has earlybird classes so YAY and WIN. Do I sound happy? I am mostly. I am hanging onto it. There is one piece missing but I think it is behind the sofa and the cat has been sucking on it. HAVE A GOOD DAY.

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Posted in MF Diary | 12 Comments »

Completely Reporkulous

Friday, October 16th, 2009

What’s cracklalackin? Life is pretty good here. I am working this weekend for the Seattle Lesbian and Gay Film fest doing a lot of different things. Tonight I am hosting a party at the Egyptian movie theater and as we have discovered I am creative, unique, nice, and talented, so I’m sure I won’t make anyone grumpers.

After that my cool ass ninja friend who recruited me is taking me to the Opening Night Gala, and I hear they are giving out a stupid amount of drink tickets. Danger Will Drunkenson. The nice thing about a mixed couple going to a gay ball is that no one will think you’re together.

Last night we recorded Podcast #11, and one thing we did not discuss was the horror known as yOni.com. Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like. What do you think about this kind of vagina worship?

I enjoy the Virgin of Guadalupe, but perhaps not in the way she was intended to be enjoyed. When I was in college I went through a phase of painting her nude, kind of like a cross between Birth of Venus and her. What do you think about reducing MC V of G to a giant vagina? “Onto you a child is born, and this is okay because you are nothing but a Jesus cannon anyhow.”

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Posted in MF Diary | 5 Comments »

Dear MF Diary, Today The Boy I Like Said Hi To Me In the Hall.

Saturday, October 3rd, 2009

Me: What are you doing with this bacon grease?
P: I dunno. You want to cook with it or something?
Me: NO! I am vegemetarian now, remember.
P: Yeaaaah.
Me: Well? Can you cover this stuff up so it does not become DUSTY GREASE at least? SHUT THE LID.
P: We can save it and rub it on the foundation in case there is a flood or something.
Me: …
P: Heh heh.
Me: JUST CLEAN IT.

VERY FUNNY, P.

This parable, which is not a parable at all, is an illustration of how we never fight about anything important anymore, but only about insignificant shit. Because we are both FIGHTERS, for now and for always. At times we fight about if we are actually fighting. The girls don’t even blink. It’s nice that it doesn’t really count anymore. Sometimes I wish we would have gotten to this stage without breaking up, but that’s life.

The chickens are molting like whoa. Death Ray is nothing but some blondey fluff right now. I can really see new feathers on her.

Today I wandered all over Wallingford running errands. Did you see that they are remodeling the QFC? When I first moved here it was still Food Giant. I hope they keep the Wallingford sign that QFC transmogrified it into.

The roses are having their last hurrah. I really like this time of year before the heat goes on, the summer flowers are having one last push, and you can put in fall flowers. I put mums in the front beds this year, and I am just going to leave them there instead of treating them like annuals. My pansies are in place as well, and they will last through the winter, which is an awesome thing about Seattle. Who can complain about year-round flowers? ASSHOLES, that’s who.

Today P. is decorating practice cupcakes for Franny’s birthday. This is her golden birthday so she gets gold cake. I will post the results later. I am trying to decide what kind of gold presents to get her. Strudel is VERY ANGRY because her golden birthday isn’t until she is twelve.

There are more pics on AssFlickr if you are desirous of more rubbernecking.

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Posted in Franny, MF Diary, P, Strudel, chooks, pictorial | 1 Comment »

Happy National Bummer Day

Friday, September 11th, 2009

Somehow I missed my eighth anniversary of my blog two days ago. I guess I was only thinking about it this morning, on the eighth anniversary of the National Bummer. I think this is a good sign. My blog is like a person that will always be around, unless it isn’t, and I can abuse it and take advantage of it terribly. Of course I would never treat a real person like this, but somehow this site has become corporeal for me, at least in my head–a collection of lips and assholes and squishy things and dead baby jokes and issues with comma placement. I imagine it as a seething mass in the sun like something in the corner of an unrealized Dali painting.

I will tell you, in year eight, the real reason I started my blog in the first place. I fell in love in 2001. Wrong time and wronger person. I don’t regret it. I would tell you that story, but it is like every time people fall in love. I realize now that this was a major nail in the coffin of my marriage. There were lots of nails before 2001, and I wasn’t always swinging the hammer. There were more nails after. Every day in a marriage is the Beginning of the End unless you can manage to shut the fuck up and go to sleep.

Being in love affects people in different ways, and it’s different every time, don’t you think? I fell in love and since it was so wrong it made me realize how lonely I was, in my marriage, and in my life. This is a cliche, I know, but sometimes we have to live them. Some of my most affecting moments have been cliches, because we have to step though the collection of human experiences, right?

I knew could use this as a confessional for all the horrible things I had done to those I loved, and those I did not, when what was behind the words was how desperately sad I was. Then I got less sad. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that will happen when you are 24. I kept going and then it was about my life, or a version of it anyhow. I was finding out things about myself and slicing away at all the layers. Unfortunately bullshit usually grows back almost as quickly as you can hack away at it.

Let’s have an exit interview or something, though no one is leaving.

What has happened in eight years? I suppose I could rattle off a summary or timeline of major events. I have gotten paid to write some, and in theory I am somewhat better now, but I’m not sure. It’s different. I have had low quiet battles with desperate scrabbling bitches, many of whom do not have websites anymore, through no effort of mine. Some people like me more and some people like me less, caused in large part by these words. I will leave it at: I am older.

What is this blog about? This blog is about being in love with words and yourself and other people, and also being very lonely, sometimes all at once. What I am learning is that, yes, we are always lonely, or at least alone, and it’s about how we deal with that. People leave us, feelings leave us, ultimately we are with ourselves. These words are part of me. This blog is about being with myself.

Is the author more or less of an asshole now? More, but I am better at hiding it and feigning remorse now. Also, slightly more reflective about things. The author is still smug about not carrying ads, though nowadays this is like being smug about not ever wearing pants. WELL DONE, EVERYONE KNOWS YOU’RE MENTAL AND NO ONE CARES.

What has this blog achieved for the writer? Catharsis. Paid work, sometimes. A skeleton for my crowded closet. Ego boosts and ego demolition. This blog has NOT gotten me laid. I hustle like a three legged donkey, I know. I am less lonely now, and more okay with times that I am. It is a little thread out into the universe of people all living their cliches, so thanks for that. Thanks for reading.

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Posted in Ah, Regrets, MF Diary | 20 Comments »

Dear MF Diary: Cooking with Saffron and Saffron Tossing

Sunday, August 16th, 2009

I am about to take a two-week break on cooking as P. is using his vacation time to cover part of the girls’ break between summer program and school starting, and has volunteered to be the housewife. Strudel is a year too young for the summer program Franny was in, so it made sense to keep them both out, of course. I still don’t have coverage for early September when his vacation runs out, but I have a couple of leads. I may just end up taking the hit and taking unpaid time off.


Saffron soaking in milk.

I am enjoying my last bit of cooking this weekend. I decided to take a crack at one of my favorite Indian dishes, biryani. In restaurants here it is often referred to as “royal biryani” and has meat, nuts, raisins, veggies, and spices, and is served with raita or something like it.


Masala FAIL.

It called for making a masala in a mortar and pestle and I ran out of patience once the bay leaves were not pulverizing and the cinnamon sticks were taking forever. Eventually I ended up with a rough crumble that I soaked in the stock and strained out as I poured the broth over the rice for baking. It ended up pretty delicious–more like a home meal and less like a restaurant one. I made a simple raita with mint from the backyard to go with it. Cardamom, coriander, ginger, garlic, YUM.


Done.

I will cook something today and then it is all martinis and sexism for the rest of the month. Woo!

Chicken Update

Remember the lady who did not know that chicken maek bock? She brought Saffron back and threw her over the fence while we were out. Saffron was okay. I really hope she educates herself further on chickens, the sooner the better. Lucky for me a blog-acquaintance has offered to buy all three! Problem solved.

Posted in MF Diary, chooks | 9 Comments »

I JUST CAN’T GET ENOUGH

Sunday, August 2nd, 2009

I woke up this morning and remembered it was summer! How did it take me this long? I went to the farmer’s market and did chickeny and yard stuffs. I AM AWAKE!

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I got my grocery delivery this morning and decided to throw on one of the CSA fruit packages they offer. It came with some blackberries that were rather crushed and some blueberries that were very nice.

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I made about a half cup of simple syrup in a small saucepan, put in a handful of blueberries and boiled them until they popped, and then put in about half the blackberries and crushed them as well. At the end I put the other half in and sort of gently poked them so they were only half-mushed. To finish I added about a half teaspoon of orange flower water. I am having this on vanilla ice cream later. SO GOOD.

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I also remembered how much I like Nouvelle Vague.

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Posted in MF Diary | 8 Comments »

If You’re So Very Entertaining, Why Are You On Your Own Tonight?

Friday, July 31st, 2009

So. It is established that Seattle cannot really handle anything above or below 65F. Winter brings OMFGBBQpocalypse if there is a half-inch of snow on the ground, causing school to be slammed shut and workplaces and bridges to close. (It should be noted that when I was working for barely above minimum this fall and winter, those workplaces did NOT close, not once.)

A couple of days ago it was over 100. Most houses have no air conditioning, which, fine, I can hang. I can make cereal for dinner and cheese and cracker and be cross and drink Mexican beer for a couple of days during the wave.

What cannot handle the heat is my stuffs. My router melted! I called Qwest to tell them and ask them if they would disown me if I used a non-Ma Bell model and they tried to troubleshoot me.

Them: Have you tried plugging it into another phone jack?
Me: It is melted!
Them: Have you tried cycling your modem by unplugging it and…
Me: IT HAS WAVES IN IT FROM MELTING AND IS TOTALLY WARPED!
Them: Oh.

Also, I had one of my favorite things, a big chunk of cocoa butter type moisturizer from Lush in my shower and it melted right down the side. It was not even in the sun.

Looks like I am offline this weekend. I might even have to GO OUTSIDE, UGH. Last night I spent about an hour trying to make dialup work, but no dice. It was kind of soothing hear the modem try to dial in though. NOSTALGIA. When I first started blogging, I used to click “connect” and then wander off and grow a beard and stuff. I also used to write all my posts in Word and copypasta them into the blogwindow, hit send, and get out again as if it was some kind of blogograph service. I almost pooped myself the first time I typed a post directly into the window, OMG.

Franny is off to her dad’s for two weeks, and she is hella pissed. I figure it’s good for her to have some not getting her way in her life. I think of myself as an advocate for her, generally–someone who can help her navigate the seas of WTF. Sometimes I say “Verily that sucks darling” about her traumas and sometimes I give her the little pep talk. She gets frustrated with SeaFed because he comes from the Jolly-but-dismissive school.

Lately she is having nightmares that I am dying and that she goes to an orphanage because her dad doesn’t want her. She has been worried about this lately because she knows she will be whisked away from our house and P. and Strudel if I died. I am the bridge.

I put on my gypsy lady rings and played Dream Interpreter.

I told her it’s normal to dream about losing the people we care about most. I told her about a dream I had about her where I lost her and panicked. Also I told her that last time her stepmom spawned she felt all left out and I wondered if her brain is worried about the new baby.

“See how it’s better to expose these things to light,” I said.

“What does that mean?” she said.

“Does it seem less scary now that we’ve talked about it?”

“Yes,” she said.

I have changes afoot–what else is new? I will fill you in in a few days. I am so feeling the Smiths today. HOBO LIKES SONGS ABOUT BEING BURIED ALIVE. Here’s to a new chapter.

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Posted in Dreams, Franny, MF Diary, Rantin | 4 Comments »

OOH Bitch That Ain’t Fair Give That Horsie Back His Hair

Thursday, July 16th, 2009

Hey. Heeeeey. Sexy man on my vending machine. Baby, I like the way you eat that potato chip. I can see all the way back there. Kind of wish I had a dick to cram in there, but I could probably find something else in a pinch. Man, do you still have your tonsils? That’s pretty hot. I have mine in a jar at MAH CRIB. Yes, for reals. Do I look like the type of person who would just say I have my tonsils in a jar at MAH CRIB if that was untrue? That hurts, baby.

Yes, I know snacking is an important personal decision, or at least that’s that the sign next to your sexy head says. I still don’t want to pay two bone for a bag of peanuts with a weird sweet coating. You know, when I squint my eyes, you look kind of like my geometry teacher. Sort of like that, or one of my aunts. I really like your ethnic ambiguity. Feeling included is making me want to eat potato chips. Also not feeling like anyone else is excluded. That is making me want salty snacks as well. You sort of look like the dude version of a Bratz doll. What kind of accent would you have? HEY, you’re not a digital composite, are you? I think you might be.

That’s okay, I’m open-minded.

IN OTHER NEWS: Could I Please Have a Look at the Lyrics?

On Saturday I went to the Symphony. I had heard the Seattle Symphony was like totes casual, like we just need to keep it real and hear some damn music, there’s no time for peacocking. FALSE. Seattleites are lazy as hell with disgusting personal habits. I dressed up, but MY BADS it was Final Fantasy, so there were people there in costumes. Can people not contain their appalling personal problems for one night? No, they cannot. Bonus: I discovered that not only are they still manufacturing tuxedo-print shirts, a wall of unholy neckbeards wearing them can sashay toward you as you are innocently on your way to the bathroom. The composer was there with a giant fish and there was a huge screen behind the musicians. It was still pretty cool though, when you closed your eyes.

I am going to a wedding this weekend (not mine FTW) and Hazel is coming and sleeping at my house. I am her date. I didn’t see her for months and now twice in a summer. It’s amazing what a difference having a little extra money and not working constantly and odd hours makes. Also I am getting close to fleeing the country with my shiny new passport for a weekend with Franny. How happy I am to be traveling with her again so soon. She is back from her dad’s now after a two-week sojourn so I will probably be writing more now. I was sort of at loose ends without the routine she makes for me.

The conversation recap from breakfast was Franny recounting sacking up and asking her stepmother why she is not allowed to say “butt” when she’s there. Of course the butt-deprivation resulted in an acapella duet to butts and vulvas, and how awesome they are. It would be an overstatement to say I enjoy this. Let’s say I feel benignly toward this. Strudel is struggling with this as well. She wants to use the proper names for her body parts, and in her summer program these words are known as “bathroom words.” On one hand, I don’t like to hear the proper names for things referred to this way, on the other hand, Feral Dwarf, do you have to talk about your VULVA constantly? Do we need to hear that it likes the quesadillas? Does it need 27 sonnets and an epic? Why can’t my children rebel by aspiring to get an MBA?

So what we are working on now is APPROPRIATENESS. Yes, yes, my very existence is ironical now. I think Strudel is probably going to grow up to be one of those menstrual blood artists or something. I will come to her openings.

Things I cannot stop with today: 1. Shakira’s new single, She-Wolf, GOD HELP ME. LOOK at this PREVIEW. She is a Hooters girl up to her NECK and is in a cage. SO MUCH AWESOME. 2. The last Girl Talk album. 3. Seattle has awesome hiphop, even if people are slobs. 4. Also Tony’s Bitch Track.

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Posted in Franny, Gainful Employment, MF Diary, Rantin | 10 Comments »

Hobo & Poodle & Asshole Go to Portland

Thursday, July 2nd, 2009

HEY FUCKERS For a week now I have been trying to think of a way to tell you what happened when I was in Portland in a way that is PG-13 or lower and will not be used against me in court. I cannot. You will have to look at the pictures in my set and try to piece it together yourself. Suffice it to say that THAT happened and Franny’s former teacher and my friend, Hazel, was a fabulous hostess.

I can tell you one thing: Franny was in fine form. I realized recently that I am going through a thing where I am in love with Franny right now. She is becoming so freaking hilarious at times I get disabled with laughter and cannot move. I am not saying I am some kind of comedic genius, but I have decided that I am going to teach her everything I know about being funny. That will be an awkward twenty minutes.

YES YOU DO want to hear something shallow about me and Franny, and that thing is that when she was a wee parasite my biggest fear was that she would turn out to be some fugly stick terror (keep it classy, twenty-one-year-old self), which is ridiculous because SeaFed was handsome and my genes get drunk sometimes but mostly sit quietly and get overwritten. And now that she is so pretty I feel like I need to give her more.

I act like I have one ounce of control over any of this, but I will not allow her to be The Pretty One. Franny and Strudel were playing Nancy Drool the other day (Caroline Keene I will drive a stake through your hateful undead heart) and Franny asked Strudel if she wanted to be “The Pretty One” or “The Funny One,” because you bet your fucksocks Franny was going to be Nancy.
Can girls be the pretty one AND the funny one? Unsurprisingly, I guess, encouraging this is my hobby now, since Franny shows such an aptitude for it. I prefer this to my mother’s program, which was a major in Disordered Eating (Breakout Session: There Is Nothing Worse Than Being Fat: T/T?) with a minor in “Good Luck With That One, Kid.” (Seminar: Walk It Off, Pussy).

So Franny has taken on a new personality all of her own doing, and that personality is Hobo. Hobo refers to (himself?) in the third person and is quite FYCL* vociferous on the subject of Cheetos, Doritos, beer, and public urination. [Sample Dialogue: “HOBO LIKES EATING CHEETOS, DORITOS, DRANKIN BEER AND PEEING INTO BOTTLES.” I dunno man.] When Hobo goes away and Franny is sweet again Poodle comes out. Poodle liek you. YOU LIEK POODLE?

Traveling alone with Franny made me remember how much I like traveling. P. and I and the girls used to all travel together in a clump just like a real family (guilt and fights over stupid inconsequential shit sold separately) and it was HELL. Traveling with P. is like traveling with a Jack Russell on meth. You could practically see his face pressed up against the window by the time we got to Sodo, clawing like an abandoned dog in a hot car. By the time we got to Tacoma? FORGET IT, it is not printable. If he was driving he would swear like Christmas Steve on a malt beverage bender. Who doesn’t like driving, I ask you? Oh. Now I know.

Plans for Fuck Off England Day? Yes, I have some. I bought some books at the OG Powell’s in Portland. I have been reading the “biography” of Betty Crocker, which is a funny thing, since she is a fabricated brand, of course. The book contains a selection of letters of the thousands that were written to “Betty” during wartime and beyond. On one hand it marries stuff I enjoy, American history, domestical history of Ladees, and insanely awesome marketing schemes. On the other, it is sad to read these desperate letters to a corporation: “How can I cook a meal to keep my husband?”

IN CONCLUSION, it is making me want to make an orange chiffon cake, the recipe for which was apparently kept under lock and key for twenty years until the originator sold it to General Mills. I also found a recipe I copied down for Any Fruit Cobbler from Fanny Farmer last summer when I was on vacation. I am remembering through the vacation haze of sangria and I FOUND THESE PILLS AND I EATED THEM that the cobbler was pretty dope. I’ll tell you what, Ima find some any fruit and bung it in.

I am reading other books right now…women and Islam (The Caged Virgin) and Victorian Era courtesans. I guess I am in new mode right now. I also have new music: new Mos Def, which is SO GROOD, and Kidz in the Hall. Mr. Lif and new K-Os did not rip over to my MP3 correctly, but I am getting there. There seems to be a stampede at Pirate Bay at the moment as it changes hands.

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Posted in Franny, MF Diary, Travels with Asshole | 3 Comments »

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