Thursday, July 09, 2009
"Chain of Fools," Carola-style
Whoa, Carola!
I was just looking for a YouTube version of Julie London singing "Perfidia." Found nothing to post. Then... I came instead, accidentally, across this Finnish singer, Carola Stanestskjold, doing the same song in '65. An OK version, not spectacular, so I started browsing through other YouTube songs of hers...
And found this OTT 1969 unexpectedly kinky, surprising version of "Chain of Fools."
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Rock of Ages
Rock of Ages website.
Walking to work today, I passed the theater where this godawful show is playing! "Featuring the music of Styx! Journey! Boston! REO Speedwagon! Pat Benatar! Night Ranger!..." et al. OK, I'm sure it's a fun show, but to me the names of those bands just conjure up a time period when I thought I would NEVER be able to find any pop music that I liked or connect with many other people over what music we liked...
I graduated high school in 1983, when the bands above were all the rage. (I can't remember what our class song was exactly, but it was something by Styx.) I'm proud to say that I never bought an album by any of them! (Well, one by Journey, but that was EARLY JOURNEY, not stupid '80s Journey!)
In the DFW area where I lived at the time, there were only Top 40, Country, and Album Rock stations. Punk had already broken in the States by then, and New Wave was about to -- and I'd read about both -- but...how I was supposed to hear it? Nothing on the radio, and I lived 45 minutes away from the nearest record store. (Not that record stores in Fort Worth malls would have carried anything British or startling.) So I listened to my Beatles, and Kiss, and the Knack (the most "modern" band I was able to find)...and suffered through most of the stuff on the radio while my classmates were busy ROCKIN' OUT! (I remember being at a pizza place one time and trying to find songs to play on the jukebox...there was NOTHING I wanted to play!)
Then, sloooooowly, after some hits by New Wave-y Americans like the Cars and Gary Neuman and Blondie and The Go-Gos started making their way onto the Top 40 stations, the format began to open up a bit for the Brits: The Police. Culture Club. Eurythmics. U2 (only after their 3rd album, "War"). Squeeze. The Vapors. The Clash. And one album rock station started a Sunday-night show after midnight, "Rock 'n' Roll Alternative," which was on for only a couple of hours, but played the newest stuff from England... My record collection started to fill out at last! There was new stuff coming out that I loved and got off on, that reflected exactly how I thought and felt...
Come to think of it, the same goes for late-night talk-shows: In the early '80s, there was just Carson. I hated him. I hated Ed McMahon. I hated stupid guests like the retarded-looking Buddy Rich. (For some reason, I remember seeing Buddy Rich on Carson CONSTANTLY! I hardly ever watched the show, but every time I did...there he was!) I hated all the dumb old-guy guffawing at borscht-belt jokes. From reading, I KNEW that Carson was a very big deal, yet... I didn't find him funny or interesting in the least. Occasionally, I would watch an entire show or two, just to try to MAKE myself discover what it was that made him so popular...I never, ever got it.
And then...LETTERMAN! The Top Ten List. Stupid Human Tricks. Monkey-Cam. Freaky staff members like Larry "Bud" Melman and Chris Elliot who appeared on-camera. Not sucking up to guests. All of that kind of thing is the norm today on late-night shows (Conan and Craig Ferguson are just off-shoots of what Dave initiated over 25 years ago), but at the time, it was completely bizarre and revolutionarily hilarious. I couldn't believe how happy I was at what I was finally seeing on the screen.
To stretch a point, I guess that New York City is just now doing for me what New Wave/Letterman did for me 25 years ago: Finally making me feel at home mentally in my own culture! When one is disgruntled, there exists partly the superior feeling of "I just know better than everyone else! They're just not on my wave-length." But then there's also the niggling, depressing idea that..."Maybe it's just ME! I'll NEVER be happy!"
After 2-and-a-half years in the NYC area, I can safely say that the city makes me happy. 95% of the time. Maybe not always ECSTATICALLY happy, since I'm still looking for permanent work and I haven't found a mate or a group of friends... But happy in a content sort of way.
Today, for instance: I got up around 1pm (my shift at my temp job is 3:30pm - midnight, several days a week). Goofed around the house. Caught the bus at 3pm. Was in Times Square (where I work) by 3:20pm. Had time for a smoke and watching the tourists before going 30 flights up to my office in one of NYC's most well-known buildings. The building's so tall and the windows so large, you can see both the East River AND the Hudson from my desk. (And my co-workers are sane and down-to-earth and nice to work with.) For dinner at 8, I walked across the street to a 24-hour deli, which was nearly deserted at that hour. Had the whole seating area upstairs to myself while I ate my salad and chicken and watched passers-by through the window. Once back outside, had another smoke and watched more tourists and gawked at more city lights. At the end of the evening, because it was midnight, the company paid for a car to take me home. I was home in 17 minutes. I didn't even feel like I'd BEEN "at work."
Everything about today/tonight made me content. Like first listening to the Eurythmics made me content. Like first watching Letterman made me content. So I suppose the lesson, for me at least, has been: "I was RIGHT to be dissatisfied! I just had to LOOK and LISTEN and WAIT a bit..."
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Disturbing Michael Jackson dream
The past couple of days I'd heard in passing on the news that the drug Diprivan was found in Michael Jackson's home. It's an intravenous drug used in operating rooms to sedate patients for surgery (and which can cause cardiac arrest if not used properly or monitored properly). A former nurse of MJ's was interviewed saying that he'd begged her for the drug because he couldn't sleep, but that she'd refused him.
For some reason, the idea that he would be asking for such a drug horrified me. He was THAT miserable. He had insomnia to such a degree that he was begging for a surgical knock-out drug.
This afternoon, hours before heading out to the fireworks, I was napping and had a very, very heavy dream (both physically and psychologically): I was reading my personal e-mails, and had 3 from Michael Jackson. He was explaining to me that he'd used Diprivan 3 times [specifically 3 times] before, and that it had helped him then. And that he hadn't had any idea that he was going to die from it.
I woke up with two lines imprinted in my head, as if from a poem, opening with:
"the dripdripdrip of deprivation"
and ending with:
"tosleeptosleeptosleeptosleeptosleepperchancetod..."
With the punctuation exactly like that. Exactly like that, the number of "to sleep"s and the last "d" cut off.
I'm not a huge Michael Jackson fan. I followed him, like everyone else of my generation, through "Off the Wall" and "Thriller" and "Bad" and then, like most others, lost track of him musically and then just caught whatever scandals were erupting... But this dream, and its very specific lines, really disturbed me.
Diprivan has to be administered through an IV = the "dripdripdrip." "Deprivation" = "sleep deprivation"? the constant "dripdripdrip" of emotional deprivation, creating as water does ultimately, a grand canyon?
The phrase "To sleep perchance to dream" I knew, as an English major, from Hamlet's famous soliloquy:
"To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep—
No more—and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep—
To sleep—perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause...."
Fuck! Sleep vs. Death. Life vs. Death. "To be or not to be." And the fucking ending of the line that the dream gave me: "...tosleeptosleepperchancetod..." Yeah, I woke up knowing "to sleep perchance to DREAM." But this cut-off line, with its missing letters at the end, insinuated also that the finish was "to die." (And the cutting off of the word also indicated a sudden stoppage.) And the last 3 letters of the line, "tod," spell the German word for "die."
Now, I know I posted something here a couple of months ago about being depressed about the loss of my job, my cat, etc., and that no one cared, boo hoo, and that I was going to wait until after seeing the grand 4th of July fireworks on the Hudson, and after that, what did I have to live for, really... JESUS! Things are much, much better for me now! I'm not EVEN thinking along those lines personally. BUT...
I must say I'm very curious: What in the heck am I doing receiving dream e-mails and lines of death poetry from Michael Jackson of all people??????????
For some reason, the idea that he would be asking for such a drug horrified me. He was THAT miserable. He had insomnia to such a degree that he was begging for a surgical knock-out drug.
This afternoon, hours before heading out to the fireworks, I was napping and had a very, very heavy dream (both physically and psychologically): I was reading my personal e-mails, and had 3 from Michael Jackson. He was explaining to me that he'd used Diprivan 3 times [specifically 3 times] before, and that it had helped him then. And that he hadn't had any idea that he was going to die from it.
I woke up with two lines imprinted in my head, as if from a poem, opening with:
"the dripdripdrip of deprivation"
and ending with:
"tosleeptosleeptosleeptosleeptosleepperchancetod..."
With the punctuation exactly like that. Exactly like that, the number of "to sleep"s and the last "d" cut off.
I'm not a huge Michael Jackson fan. I followed him, like everyone else of my generation, through "Off the Wall" and "Thriller" and "Bad" and then, like most others, lost track of him musically and then just caught whatever scandals were erupting... But this dream, and its very specific lines, really disturbed me.
Diprivan has to be administered through an IV = the "dripdripdrip." "Deprivation" = "sleep deprivation"? the constant "dripdripdrip" of emotional deprivation, creating as water does ultimately, a grand canyon?
The phrase "To sleep perchance to dream" I knew, as an English major, from Hamlet's famous soliloquy:
"To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep—
No more—and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep—
To sleep—perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause...."
Fuck! Sleep vs. Death. Life vs. Death. "To be or not to be." And the fucking ending of the line that the dream gave me: "...tosleeptosleepperchancetod..." Yeah, I woke up knowing "to sleep perchance to DREAM." But this cut-off line, with its missing letters at the end, insinuated also that the finish was "to die." (And the cutting off of the word also indicated a sudden stoppage.) And the last 3 letters of the line, "tod," spell the German word for "die."
Now, I know I posted something here a couple of months ago about being depressed about the loss of my job, my cat, etc., and that no one cared, boo hoo, and that I was going to wait until after seeing the grand 4th of July fireworks on the Hudson, and after that, what did I have to live for, really... JESUS! Things are much, much better for me now! I'm not EVEN thinking along those lines personally. BUT...
I must say I'm very curious: What in the heck am I doing receiving dream e-mails and lines of death poetry from Michael Jackson of all people??????????
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Fireworks and Kvetching
A shot of the massive Hudson River fireworks show tonight, looking toward Manhattan from Weehawken.
A gallery of more shots from Weehawken and Jersey City.
The display started at 9:20pm. I can't tell you how relaxing it was to leave my house at 9:18 and stroll casually down to the river! The police had blocked off the roads starting at around 6pm, but people had been, according to the news reports I saw on TV, "camping out" along the river's edge since 9 this morning to get a good spot! That's just nutty! Though I departed for the big show with only 2 minutes to spare, I was able to see just fine.
There were 10s of thousands of people stretched all along the road that runs along the cliff overlooking the river (though loosely packed, with plenty of room to walk around). Most everyone in a relaxed, happy mood...except for the dog next to me that snarled and almost bit the faces off a pack of obnoxious 15-year-old boys who were taunting it! (Yikes.)
Aside from the near-face-mauling, all was pleasant. I got a few chills while watching. People "oohed" and "aahed" and applauded throughout the show, and at the end a brief chant of "USA! USA!" went up, which made me smile. (At the brief tingle of jingoism that ran through me at hearing it; then, later, 'cause the majority of the crowd were either tourists or illegals who had walked over from Union City, which is the next city inland from Weehawken.)
Afterwards, I strolled back home and stopped on my corner to snap some shots of the one traffic cop trying futilely to control the throngs of both people heading back inland and cars heading back to NYC. A neighbor-lady came out on her porch and started kvetching about the cop: "That man does not know what he is doing! I was watching him from upstairs. He must not be from Weehawken. He doesn't know this road. Where's he from? [to me] Can you read that patch? He must be from the Sheriff's department. [he was, according to his shirt-patch] I called the police earlier and asked who they had out here. They sent both Weehawken officers and the Sheriff's department. People from the Sheriff's department do NOT know these streets..." Whew! Luckily, some friends of hers walked up and were able to commiserate with her more appropriately, since I really didn't know what to say and wasn't satisfying her with my non-committal responses of "Well, there haven't been fireworks on the Hudson in 9 years. He didn't know what to expect..." (To which she responded: "He should have KNOWN what to expect!" etc.)
Her kvetching reminded me of something that I really do like about this part of the country: the kvetching. I myself would kvetch back in Texas about any number of things that weren't being done properly, only back home it's called "bitching" and is greatly frowned upon. You're not "laid back" and "easy going" if you bitch (you're just a bitch). Traits that I think Texans and Southerners pride themselves on and that I think are greatly overrated. Texans can be very smart and driven, sure, but they like to present themselves publicly as NOT being so. Whereas people up here are just think-y/talk-y as hell and don't care if they seem uptight in the process of letting their feeling be known! :)
I find that to be much psychologically healthier, actually. At least for me. For instance, I would always get shit back in Texas for, say, honking when the car in front of me wouldn't move when the light turned green. Or for getting pissed when the person in the car in front of me at the bank drive-thru wouldn't have their stuff ready by the time their car got to the window. To me, it was just common courtesy that the laggards were lacking; they weren't thinking about the people behind them. To my fellow Texans, I was the one being rude! That was just nuts! I'm very glad to be in a logical place where PEOPLE HONK WHEN THE SLOW-POKE IN FRONT OF THEM DOESN'T PAY ATTENTION TO THE LIGHT! :)
A gallery of more shots from Weehawken and Jersey City.
The display started at 9:20pm. I can't tell you how relaxing it was to leave my house at 9:18 and stroll casually down to the river! The police had blocked off the roads starting at around 6pm, but people had been, according to the news reports I saw on TV, "camping out" along the river's edge since 9 this morning to get a good spot! That's just nutty! Though I departed for the big show with only 2 minutes to spare, I was able to see just fine.
There were 10s of thousands of people stretched all along the road that runs along the cliff overlooking the river (though loosely packed, with plenty of room to walk around). Most everyone in a relaxed, happy mood...except for the dog next to me that snarled and almost bit the faces off a pack of obnoxious 15-year-old boys who were taunting it! (Yikes.)
Aside from the near-face-mauling, all was pleasant. I got a few chills while watching. People "oohed" and "aahed" and applauded throughout the show, and at the end a brief chant of "USA! USA!" went up, which made me smile. (At the brief tingle of jingoism that ran through me at hearing it; then, later, 'cause the majority of the crowd were either tourists or illegals who had walked over from Union City, which is the next city inland from Weehawken.)
Afterwards, I strolled back home and stopped on my corner to snap some shots of the one traffic cop trying futilely to control the throngs of both people heading back inland and cars heading back to NYC. A neighbor-lady came out on her porch and started kvetching about the cop: "That man does not know what he is doing! I was watching him from upstairs. He must not be from Weehawken. He doesn't know this road. Where's he from? [to me] Can you read that patch? He must be from the Sheriff's department. [he was, according to his shirt-patch] I called the police earlier and asked who they had out here. They sent both Weehawken officers and the Sheriff's department. People from the Sheriff's department do NOT know these streets..." Whew! Luckily, some friends of hers walked up and were able to commiserate with her more appropriately, since I really didn't know what to say and wasn't satisfying her with my non-committal responses of "Well, there haven't been fireworks on the Hudson in 9 years. He didn't know what to expect..." (To which she responded: "He should have KNOWN what to expect!" etc.)
Her kvetching reminded me of something that I really do like about this part of the country: the kvetching. I myself would kvetch back in Texas about any number of things that weren't being done properly, only back home it's called "bitching" and is greatly frowned upon. You're not "laid back" and "easy going" if you bitch (you're just a bitch). Traits that I think Texans and Southerners pride themselves on and that I think are greatly overrated. Texans can be very smart and driven, sure, but they like to present themselves publicly as NOT being so. Whereas people up here are just think-y/talk-y as hell and don't care if they seem uptight in the process of letting their feeling be known! :)
I find that to be much psychologically healthier, actually. At least for me. For instance, I would always get shit back in Texas for, say, honking when the car in front of me wouldn't move when the light turned green. Or for getting pissed when the person in the car in front of me at the bank drive-thru wouldn't have their stuff ready by the time their car got to the window. To me, it was just common courtesy that the laggards were lacking; they weren't thinking about the people behind them. To my fellow Texans, I was the one being rude! That was just nuts! I'm very glad to be in a logical place where PEOPLE HONK WHEN THE SLOW-POKE IN FRONT OF THEM DOESN'T PAY ATTENTION TO THE LIGHT! :)
Friday, July 03, 2009
"Meanwhile, on the other side of the world..."
"The Hardline According to Terence Trent D'Arby" is one of the best albums everrrr.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
The Evil Geniuses of Pathmark
Today was the big day when I deposited a couple of unemployment checks and finally had enough extra to "splurge" on a $99 window-unit air conditioner on sale at the local Pathmark supermarket.
Those suckers are heavy, and I have no car here, so my brilliant plan for getting it home was just to leave it in a shopping cart and wheel it on home. All was well, and I was wheeling along merrily...until I got to the edge of the market parking lot. SCREECH! My cart came to a grinding halt (almost tipping over in the process). Puzzled, I checked all the wheels. Everything was fine and in movable order. So I backed the cart up a little and gave it a mighty shove forward. SCREECH! "GodDAMMIT!" I screeched back.
There were other carts sitting around out there, so I struggled to lift the damn thing and shift it over to another cart. Then got started on my merry way again... SCREECH! I started cursing at the top of my lungs again, which is when a helpful guy sitting around came over and explained, "They've got some sort of magnetic strip in the parking lot. Once you pass a certain point, the carts stop moving." Huh? Nooooooo.
I had a brilliant idea: "What if I force the cart a few yards down, onto the sidewalk? Maybe the strips will stop working once you get past a certain point." So the guy and I started heaving and hauling the cart and air-conditioner to what we thought might be a safe spot. And the mofo cart STILL wouldn't move!
Those evil geniuses! They really came up with a great way to keep people from stealing their carts!
I never could figure out how exactly the strips worked, but... they sure did. So I had to wheel the air conditioner back inside the store. Get some checkout guys to watch it for me. Walk back home and get own my little two-wheeled cart. Walk back to the store. Maneuver the friggin' window unit back home.
It was HOTTTTTT today (85-ish) and by the time I finally made it home, my face was bright red, my makeup completely melted off, my hair plastered with sweat. By this time it was only 30 minutes until I had to be at work, but I couldn't go out looking like that! So I sat in front of my fan with an ice-tray, desperately trying to cool off. I finally had to say "fuck it" and get on the bus looking like a sweaty mess!
I live on the second floor, and that AC is still in my cart at the bottom of the stairs. I looked at it when I got home and decided not to even mess with it again today. (I was kind of hoping my strong landlord downstairs would have noticed it sitting there and carried it up for me by the time I got home. Nope. Can't wait to haul that thing up tomorrow and try to get it installed in the window!)
I must say: I felt kind of like a monkey in the jungle today, trying to figure out how to get ants out of an ant-heap, or coconuts out of a tree. All the stupid little things you have to try when you don't have simple conveniences (like a car, and a man!) to help you!
Monday, June 29, 2009
Unemployment Compensation: Good or Bad?
Good lord, mentally it's for the most part a GREAT thing. I had to jump through a lot of nerve-wracking hoops to finally get approved (after figuring out whether or not I could be approved to begin with). The pay every two weeks is approximately 50% of my former income. Which is still enough to live off of -- paying rent and bills and buying groceries/cigs, but certainly with little or no money for any extras (except the window-unit air conditioner that I'm going to buy, on sale for $99 at the Pathmark). I'm qualified to receive these payments for the next 3 or so months.
This situation differs from last spring, when my 8-month freelance stretch at another publishing company came to an end. Back then, I had no clue that I could qualify for Unemployment, since I was "just" a freelancer and since I'd "just" moved from out-of-state the previous year. So I never applied for it. My ignorance of the system cost me a lot of mental grief. I had some savings after the 8 months was up, but then spent months worrying incessantly about finding a job, and slogging through going-nowhere part-time temp jobs, and sweltering in the summer heat because I was scared to spend $100 on an air conditioner.
This year, I have the safety net of Unemployment pay. But with that, I find myself not looking as hard for work. I know I'll be OK through September, and with that comes the thought in the back of my mind that I can relax a little... Being able to "relax a little" is good, of course, but...shouldn't I be revved up and in super-competitive mode right now? As September nears, I'm sure the reality will hit me that I have to do SOMETHING in order to be able to stay up here... But as of right now...I seem to be in lethargic, slacker "Austin mode": "Wow, man, I can afford a window-unit air conditioner and some beer and cigarettes tonight! I'll be OK!"
I think a part of me is angry that I'm a really good copy editor, yet I cannot find a steady job. Not through my own fault, but because of various companies' economic problems and arcane rules. My last job that just ended, for instance: Some editors that I formerly worked with are now sending me freelance work because the current in-house copy editors aren't as thorough as I was. For real. How ludicrous is that? The company once had ME in-house, but had to let me go after 6 months because... the 6-month contract was up and there was no more money in the department budget. Yet...my former editors miss my work and are hiring me freelance from their own piecemeal personal company budgets. It's utterly nonsensical and maddening. Almost enough to make me just throw up my hands and lie back and say, "Wow, man...looking forward to the air-conditioning and beer and cigs tonight."
Please, NYC! I'm so much more into getting pumped up and working 50-hour weeks, not of lying around on my lazy ass acting all Austin. Do something, for fuck's sake! ;p
This situation differs from last spring, when my 8-month freelance stretch at another publishing company came to an end. Back then, I had no clue that I could qualify for Unemployment, since I was "just" a freelancer and since I'd "just" moved from out-of-state the previous year. So I never applied for it. My ignorance of the system cost me a lot of mental grief. I had some savings after the 8 months was up, but then spent months worrying incessantly about finding a job, and slogging through going-nowhere part-time temp jobs, and sweltering in the summer heat because I was scared to spend $100 on an air conditioner.
This year, I have the safety net of Unemployment pay. But with that, I find myself not looking as hard for work. I know I'll be OK through September, and with that comes the thought in the back of my mind that I can relax a little... Being able to "relax a little" is good, of course, but...shouldn't I be revved up and in super-competitive mode right now? As September nears, I'm sure the reality will hit me that I have to do SOMETHING in order to be able to stay up here... But as of right now...I seem to be in lethargic, slacker "Austin mode": "Wow, man, I can afford a window-unit air conditioner and some beer and cigarettes tonight! I'll be OK!"
I think a part of me is angry that I'm a really good copy editor, yet I cannot find a steady job. Not through my own fault, but because of various companies' economic problems and arcane rules. My last job that just ended, for instance: Some editors that I formerly worked with are now sending me freelance work because the current in-house copy editors aren't as thorough as I was. For real. How ludicrous is that? The company once had ME in-house, but had to let me go after 6 months because... the 6-month contract was up and there was no more money in the department budget. Yet...my former editors miss my work and are hiring me freelance from their own piecemeal personal company budgets. It's utterly nonsensical and maddening. Almost enough to make me just throw up my hands and lie back and say, "Wow, man...looking forward to the air-conditioning and beer and cigs tonight."
Please, NYC! I'm so much more into getting pumped up and working 50-hour weeks, not of lying around on my lazy ass acting all Austin. Do something, for fuck's sake! ;p
My Favorite Housewives
Not having a real person in my life to fantasize about (see the below "4th o' July/no sex" post), I have somehow gotten fixated on the bad girl Danielle Staub from the "Real Housewives of New Jersey" show, whose run just ended with a wonderfully dramatic table-turning finale. (No, the tables weren't turned figuratively, but rather literally! It was great, tackily intense reality TV.)
Danielle, it turns out, has a past as a stripper, prostitute, Colombian druglord girlfriend, and "coke whore," as some tabloids unkindly put it, and had been arrested for kidnapping. The other housewives found this all out by digging up a book that had been published by Danielle's ex-husband, which contained, among the various sordid details, her mug shot from 20-odd years ago. Now, having seen on the show Danielle's exploits with phone sex, and bathroom sex with a 20-something muscle-head (who's now trying to hawk a sex tape), and having learned about her, count 'em, 19 past engagements, "The Book" just raised the stakes of interest that much more. It all sounded excitingly tawdry. And it was fascinating to see the other women's reactions: The two sisters and Dumb Teresa, the table-flipper, were a bit self-righteous: "I don't want my family near her! A kidnapper? I can't let her around my kids!" etc. While Jacqueline, married to the brother of the two sisters, insisted on remaining friends with Danielle despite the rift it was causing within her family, and stuck up for her during the finale, calling her own sister-in-law a liar.
Danielle had also been "accused" in the book of being bisexual -- watch out for those intense stares, Jacqueline! In fact, I think that's what started me thinking about Danielle... The Stare. The woman was often rather annoying and overly dramatic, but I loved that dead-serious, intense look of hers. (It was also funny to hear the 20-something good-looking lawyer son of one of the sisters say he was scared of her! I liked the thought that she really would, in all probability, eat him alive, and that he fully recognized the fact!)
So anyway, the show has been a sexually-charged hoot to watch. (After finding Danielle attractive, I started thinking about the Housewives from the other cities, and whom I paid most attention to when they came onscreen... From the OC show: Jeana. And from the NYC show: the Countess de Lesseps, of course! Neither of whom are trouble-makers, like Danielle, though they all share a certain dark-complexioned look. I like Jeana's looks and eyes and laid-back wry humor, and the Countess...her bright eyes. And those shoulders! that sexy, husky voice! I wouldn't be surprised if she had slept with a girl or two in her own past modeling days!)
So, thanks, Ladies, for keeping me occupied while I'm having nothing whatsoever going on in my own personal life! :) That's what TV's for, right?
4th o' July
Well, the anniversary of the last time I had sex is coming up! (I know, I know: Too much information!) :) But I remember the memorable date, the 4th of July, and the fact that it was with the very first woman that I ever had sex with (after many years apart) and that there certainly weren't any fireworks!
We'd been trying halfheartedly for a few weeks to make a go of it again. But this time around, I kept noticing annoying things like: (1) She ate tortilla chips with her mouth open and crumbs flew out when she talked. (2) I checked out a book for her at the library where I worked and she didn't return it on time; when I called her to ask when she was going to take it back, she accused me of trying to start a fight. (3) We were going to eat take-out and spend the evening together at my place. She wanted me to go pick up the food on HER side of town. When I pointed out that the restaurant was just down the street from her and across town from me, so why didn't she just pick it up and bring it over, she accused me of trying to start a fight. (4) On the July 4th date, we went swimming at her pool, when I noticed that she was getting a belly. Nothing wrong with that, but I hadn't been with her in years and she didn't used to have one, and she didn't look particularly good with one. Then, after sex and while we were downtown watching fireworks, she kept blabbing on and on and on about something; I can't remember what, but I do remember thinking that I would scream if she didn't shut up because she was boring me to death...
Friends, the thrill was gone. But still not completely. About a week after the 4th, I called and left a message asking if she wanted to go do something. She didn't return the call. THAT was when a little light finally, finally, after 10 years, went off: "I want somebody who will return my calls and take me out on a Saturday night! That's not too much to ask." At that moment, I completely fell out of love with her and have not thought about her in a romantic way ever since. (She actually did call me back several weeks later, before my birthday. I just sat there and listened to her leave a message and rolled my eyes.)
So anyway, that's my "4th o' July" last-time-I-had-sex story.
BTW: The fireworks on the Hudson, which lies between Manhattan and Weehawken, are going to be insane. I just had an automated call from the Weehawken mayor today warning about the crowds and the traffic and the roads that will be blocked off. I was strolling by the river this past Saturday, and the traffic and people were slightly hectic. (It's a prime tourist spot because of its gorgeous view of the city.) I can't even imagine what it's going to be like this coming Saturday, the 4th. Mayhem, most likely. (I feel sorry for the people whose houses line the street overlooking the river. Most of the houses have picket fences, but people are still going to be intrusive...) Still, the show is going to be fantastic, and since I live just a 2-minute walk away, I can't not go.
And, hey: Maybe I'll meet some hot woman to whom I can tell my sad 4th o' July story and she'll take pity on me and give me a symbolic anniversary present... Yeah, OK, right. ;p
We'd been trying halfheartedly for a few weeks to make a go of it again. But this time around, I kept noticing annoying things like: (1) She ate tortilla chips with her mouth open and crumbs flew out when she talked. (2) I checked out a book for her at the library where I worked and she didn't return it on time; when I called her to ask when she was going to take it back, she accused me of trying to start a fight. (3) We were going to eat take-out and spend the evening together at my place. She wanted me to go pick up the food on HER side of town. When I pointed out that the restaurant was just down the street from her and across town from me, so why didn't she just pick it up and bring it over, she accused me of trying to start a fight. (4) On the July 4th date, we went swimming at her pool, when I noticed that she was getting a belly. Nothing wrong with that, but I hadn't been with her in years and she didn't used to have one, and she didn't look particularly good with one. Then, after sex and while we were downtown watching fireworks, she kept blabbing on and on and on about something; I can't remember what, but I do remember thinking that I would scream if she didn't shut up because she was boring me to death...
Friends, the thrill was gone. But still not completely. About a week after the 4th, I called and left a message asking if she wanted to go do something. She didn't return the call. THAT was when a little light finally, finally, after 10 years, went off: "I want somebody who will return my calls and take me out on a Saturday night! That's not too much to ask." At that moment, I completely fell out of love with her and have not thought about her in a romantic way ever since. (She actually did call me back several weeks later, before my birthday. I just sat there and listened to her leave a message and rolled my eyes.)
So anyway, that's my "4th o' July" last-time-I-had-sex story.
BTW: The fireworks on the Hudson, which lies between Manhattan and Weehawken, are going to be insane. I just had an automated call from the Weehawken mayor today warning about the crowds and the traffic and the roads that will be blocked off. I was strolling by the river this past Saturday, and the traffic and people were slightly hectic. (It's a prime tourist spot because of its gorgeous view of the city.) I can't even imagine what it's going to be like this coming Saturday, the 4th. Mayhem, most likely. (I feel sorry for the people whose houses line the street overlooking the river. Most of the houses have picket fences, but people are still going to be intrusive...) Still, the show is going to be fantastic, and since I live just a 2-minute walk away, I can't not go.
And, hey: Maybe I'll meet some hot woman to whom I can tell my sad 4th o' July story and she'll take pity on me and give me a symbolic anniversary present... Yeah, OK, right. ;p
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