from television without pity 'project runway' forum:

I'm listening to my boyfriend right now talking to one of his co-workers on the
phone about how horrible Angela's skirt was and what he would have done with
Keith's dog instead of that lame-ass bracelet. This, from a guy going on a
camping trip this weekend to shoot guns in the country with some friends.

love. this. show.

i'm going to stagger home now from the office. i wore white pants today and i've been a nervous wreck because Hugo is still visiting. Hugo has been visiting for months. in any other situation, any other woman, three months of Hugomenses would be a cause for alarm; alas, for me, it's merely an emphatic sign that i'm totally effing stressed out. i've killed my uterus.

and i have about 10 phone calls i have to return, that i haven't had a single chance to get to.
once i get my sister's visit out the way, i'll concentrate on roomie's birthday, next month's trip to new york (STILL have to buy the ticket and talk to my friend L- about it), my birthday and perhaps a visit from a boy.

where has the summer gone?

bush to everyone else: what civil rights?

so...you have a department charged with enforcing civil rights laws on our books. who'd you rather want enforcing it: someone who agrees with the law or someone who thinks the law is crap?

my favorite, totally insane, 'up is down' quote from the conservatives who think this makes total sense:

But Roger Clegg , who was a deputy assistant attorney general for civil rights during the Reagan administration, said that the change in career hiring is appropriate to bring some ``balance" to what he described as an overly liberal agency.

``I don't think there is anything sinister about any of this. . . . You are not morally required to support racial preferences just because you are working for the Civil Rights Division," Clegg said.

no, roger, you're right. you're not morally required to agree with civil rights legislation. you're just legally required to adhere to it.

since when does enforcing the law need balance? since when does making sure there is non-discrimination need balance? let's think about what 'balance' means in this context.

what balances enforcement? non-enforcement!
what balances non-discrimination? discrimination!
what balances civil rights? fuck your civil rights!

Civil rights hiring shifted in Bush era - The Boston Globe

oh, the internets.
always a good source of weird myspace pickups:

"nice pictures. what do you do for a living? how tall are you? what do you do for fun?" - F.
(hi, random.)

"I read your profile and would be very glad to talk with you in real time, to start our relationship.I'm gentle and passionate man with a velvet sight and tender hands, kind heart and purposeful, resolute character. I can be soft and gentle as a cat, and I can be a passionate lioness with my unique lion. I very romantic and very much love a life! In fact in it so a lot of interesting! Very much I like to travel, meet interesting an pls if u wanna get to contact me real fast i mean to know each other better u can IM me on this yahoo ID [boop] u can as the same drop urs too thank u." - D.
(he's my favorite; notice how his language deteriorates as his message continues.)

"when i move to chicago u gona be my friend?" - G.
(um, no.)

"you like to be entertain me to were do you like to go?" - Godly
(the irony.)
...
the flaming bag of poo called work is finally over this week. and - i was dinged yesterday for wearing jeans - despite my wonderful new jacket and 'denim trousers.' (they're trousers! not jeans!) i was told i now have to be 'an example.' dude. after years of giving management the finger, i'm about to be coopted!

but thank you, S-, for your unique relaxation technique this afternoon. worked a charm. (hee!)

squee!

i've always written.
in 2nd grade i wrote stories about smart, nosy girls solving mysteries like What Was in the Janitor's Bucket.
in 5th grade i wrote a sci-fi story about an invasion from mars and how a ship of women saved the world while their boyfriends got shot. (i also bound and made the cover for it.)
in junior high i wrote gothic stories of victiorian ladies who were locked in rooms, broke out and shot their captors. (sensing a theme?)
in high school, i wrote plain stories about people living in los angeles in an existential torpor.
in college and grad school, fiction died and then i started to write self-aware, dry, academic things - conference papers, research papers, drafts for articles, book reviews.

and during all of this i scribbled in my journal - drew maps, made lists, sketched folks i saw on the bus. i traced my sexual (non)development, bitterly chafed against my baptist bonds, wrote more fragments of stories about being religious, funny stories about the latest boy i was stalking (oh, Knightley). so i've always written. and written. and written.

but today was the first day i actually got a check for it.

(the current issue of geez, kids! i'm in it!)

our president: man with a slow hand

nevermind she's the leader of all of germany.
she's a soft, warm woman and like all soft, warm women, she craves the touch of...our President.

dude. cussing on mic, blathering about pigs - is our president off the wagon or does he always give leaders of the free world back rubs?

the video of bush's 'love attack' is here.

in the world away from crisis communications and appts with community leaders, people are having much more interesting conversations than the ones i'm foisting on you all over here.

like, this conversation over at Bitch Ph.D. about the head butt heard 'round the world. JP has a response of sorts over here.

ok, back to crisis communications.

shopping

i have had to patch my favorite pair of jeans. the cuffs are frayed and the pants have that worn in look that impressionable young fashionistas pay scads of cash to get. after years of faithful service, they have become my new weekend jeans. long live the weekend jean.

and long live the jeans i replaced them with from forth & towne. roomie and i trekked in the blazing heat to old orchard and, there, i immersed myself in the really great sale they were having.

(where else can you get a cropped poppy jacket for $30 when it was once over $100? or a green straw handbag for $20, marked down from $98? or a couple of soft as silk t-shirts that drape just the right way for under $10? get thee to this sale!)

these jeans...i thought they weren't going to fit, that they were going to make me look like a big muffin top, but once again forth & towne totally surprised me: dark wash, straight through the thigh and hip, very slight bootcut at the bottom. it makes me look tall-ish. and it rests at just the right spot at my 'waist.' whoever is making their pants, and whoever their fit model is, it is working for me.

we did other shopping at pottery barn (paisely plates for just $13!!), stopped into nordstrom for their anniversary sale, but it was a bloodbath.

(and word to the head honchos at macy's: the field's out at old orchard is already suffering from the macy's malady - over-stuffed floors and racks, poor merchandising and tacky, undistinguished clothes. what used to be a store with at least attractive merchandise, with some really great surprisingly quality lines, is now a jc penney. and MOVE the big soft girl section from the FURNITURE department. not a good way to create a loyal customer.

thanks for that. can't wait until you finally ruin the store downtown.)

then, we came back into the city and stopped at vive la femme, a cute boutique in bucktown for big soft girls, something that's rare for this part of town. bucktown likes to act like everyone is hip, rich and the size of fiona apple. VLF is normally very very pricey (sometimes, prohibitively) so i was cautious when the really aggressive owner made me try on a very disco black/white sweater with kimono sleeves and a wide waist band. what a surprise that it rocked! i never would have picked it but now i'm wearing it to new york. and it only cost the equivalent of a cheap pair of steve madden shoes! add to that a black party frock with a disturbing band of silver under the ruched bodice (hm, must be removed) and this was a surprisingly productive shopping day - all this for just under $200!

see what happens when you wake up in the morning and do your yoga? you turn into a freaking capitalist, shopping pig!
...
and i know i said the door was closed on this topic, but he keeps emailing me.
it turns out B- really wants to date seriously and wants to correct any misapprehension i may have had about him 'bowing out.'

i give up. i really do.

my own personal west wing

boy situation aside (which actually isn't that big a deal since expectations were so low), this week is going to give me a stroke.

work has, to put a fine point on it, exploded all over me like a flaming bag of poo. i stepped into my new position officially last week and, man, is the learning curve fast and steep. our government affairs contact said to me, as she handed me her copy of the IL general assembly directory, 'don't worry. in a year, you'll be great. flashcards are useful.'

holy crap. flashcards. and - a year?!

i have to learn names, committees, titles, interest areas - for city, county, state, and federal level officials (elected and appointed).

what the hell. those 7 years of frolicking were nice. who needs friends, family and boys? not me.

i have the illinois general assemby and the cook county board to keep me warm.

(of course you know i'm secretly thrilled. i love this stuff.)

the last word on B-

in the twisted opera that is my non-relationship with B-, i think we have approached the final aria. the hero (that would be me) comes onstage too late to save poor butterfly (that would be B-), in his death throes, having chopped up his own guts after deciding, 'i can't meet your friends.'

the past few weeks have seen poor B- calling while i stalled, trying to figure out just what it is i wanted to do with him. i didn't want things to be the way they were. but i didn't know, couldn't see, how things were going to be different. so i stalled.

but still he called.
he called while i was at roomie's corporate event at navy pier.
he called when i was at a party for pride weekend.
he called when i was in michigan.
he called when i was at work.

(were his calls about getting together for the future? no, they were about getting together that night. please.)

so yesterday, when i call him (i have a 25% return rate with him) from the office i still have no idea, really, why i'm doing so. we chat awkwardly. i invite him to catch the world cup final with me and some friends on sunday afternoon. he says, 'right, that friendship thing.' and then says no - he's not into it, he leaves his sundays to prep for work the next day. ok. i can understand that. so i leave it. i offer to call later, but i'm still stumped what i'm going to be calling for.

the curtain is just hovering over the stage, folks.

i wake up this morning (er, afternoon) to an email from B- that says 'it seems you want me to perform certain social feats before we can hang out together alone. it feels like penalty kicks before the end of a game. good thing i'm bowing out before you make me go shoe shopping with you.'

butterfly has just inserted the knife and has hit the boards. bastard! i KNEW he'd do this!

my return email said 'i don't want you to perform anything. it would have been nice if we could have existed outside the bedroom. take care.'

enjoy all that alone time, dude.

(and note to self: when a guy gets dumped, he stays dumped. erase his phone number, block his email. waste of my fucking time.
yes, those three minutes i actually gave some thought to B- - i can't get those back now, can i? bastard!)

i have returned!
rejuvenated and refreshed from 5 days out of town.

did you know there are vineyards in michigan? had no idea!!
the northern part of michigan is so pretty.

but god i'm glad to be home.
i'd forgotten how totally scary silence can be.