Sickly Jibberish

I feel like doo doo today. I cannot even muster the strength to say shit. I have sore throat, cough, lots of snot, my ears hurt, I have a fever, I sound like a 98 year old man that has been smoking for 90 years, I feel like I have been kicked repeatedly in the stomach and back and my hair hurts. That's right - my hair. It hurts. I am currently wearing my favorite t-shirt, which has no less then 200 tiny holes in it, a pair of pants that resembles my mascot uniform of so long ago (basically pants made of carpet) and my foam flip-flops. I am wrapped in a blanket with a cat hanging off it and I am still freezing.

The Super Bowl is this weekend. Had I still been at NFL, I may be there. That's what they said anyway on my first day, but when I saw the list of workers going, my name was nowhere on it. It sort of leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Maybe that is just phlegm.

Isn't it weird how when you are sick you really don't move around a lot, but after you doze off and wake back up, you look around your dwelling and it is about 10 times messier than you remember it being before dozing off? Like a tiny quiet hurricane was polite enough to pay you a visit and not make a sound while you slept. If you ask me, I think it is the gnomes. Those bastards. . . .

Some people are fixin to be written off. That's all I have to say about that.

Tomorrow is February. Weird.

Here is a tip from Rick. When you build a fire and it is still burning but there are no flames, toss some matches (the kind in a box) into the logs and when they light, you will have flames again. I refer to these as Magic Matches. Disclosure - Matches may or may not have magical properties.

I wish I received more good mail. Like actual handwritten letters and stuff. I am going to start doing that more. I have these really cool pens that write real sparkly that I addressed my Christmas and New Year cards with last season. I sure do like shiny stuff. Last night I went outside to see the snow fall and the snow that fell through the light of my back porch looked like slivers of diamonds floating in the air.

I need to start doing more New Yorky stuff before my time here is up.


TheraFlu is kicking in and I am going to watch The Last of The Mohicans.

Lost - This Is NOT The ABC Television Show

I could not find anything this morning. I mean anything.

Finally, I found my tooth brush behind the toilet, my cat in the closet, my keys in the freezer and my bra in the dishwasher.

Wow.

Some Jacked Up Work Stuff

I have had a few interesting points in the Job Life the last few weeks.

There was one interview for a non-profit agency downtown. It seemed to be a good job. It was created by Jewish immigrants over 115 years ago. Most of the Directors that work there are Jewish still. That is a fact that was neither here nor there for me at the time - - I basically just don't give a shit one way or the other. My job is pretty much the same no matter what the place, industry, or people I work with, regardless of religion, sexual preference or race.

The Director of HR conducted this particular interview with the Benefits Coordinator at her side, which was kind of weird for me. While looking over my resume, the Director stated she worked with the only female boss I have ever had that I didn't mind working for at any point of my job. I still feel a very strong loyalty to her and a great amount of respect. The Director then turned from me to the Benefits Coordinator and proceeded with the following conversation as if I were not even in the room.

HRD: Oh! She knows ****! I use to work with her before she became President.

BC: This is good?

HRD: Yeah. I mean, I like ****, don't get me wrong, but she was just a little too WASPy for my liking.

BC: laughs

It takes A LOT to offend me. Really, it does. Hell, I can even make salty drunken sailors blush. I was highly insulted by this. Not necessarily for me, but on ****'s behalf. You see, **** is 1/2 Catholic and 1/2 Jewish, and by definition, not WASPy at all, except for the W part. I, on the other hand, am a prime example of WASPy which made me think the people in front of me were blind and very very stupid. Then there was this:

HRD: Yeah, she was such a strange woman. She never wanted or had any kids.

BC: That is so strange. What is wrong with her?

Now I was offended on my own behalf. Neat. I am WASPy and childless. Thank God I am Protestant so I may turn the other cheek and forgive you, or I would have commented on your atrocious accent, huge nose and urgent need to procreate while obviously still on the prowl for a man after all these years. I honestly had 20/20 vision at that point and I did not even have my glasses on. I was praying for a nosebleed or worse just so I could bust the hell outta there.

Then they ecstatically offered me the job but wanted me to shadow the current Assistant right then, as it was her last day. Shadowing is such a ridiculous notion for me. Leave me some notes and let me be. By the way, did I say they wanted me to do this pro bono?

They then proceeded to ask what I thought. How could I possible say what I was thinking, which was basically: you are not even offering my minimum so you cannot afford me, this building smells funny, I have to pee, I REALLY want a ciggy, why is he so mad at me, I need to buy kitty litter, damn my hair looks good today, Arby's or pizza, how could Jack Bauer shoot Curtis, and oh yeah, I think you should really go fuck yourself because you obviously need it bad you pompous, politically incorrect, bad hair day, rude, Yankee, socially retarded, vile, hell-bound bitch.

Instead I just smiled and said I did not think this was the job for me, apologized for wasting their time and gracefully excused myself.

Now I am working at MTV Networks again. They called me into a Department called LOGO. I thought it was an Art Department. It is actually the Gay and Lesbian channel of MTV. Everyone is real nice. I think I have this Gay and/or Foreign magnet thing going on. My last 2 lovers in a row were foreign and my roommate is gay and foreign and I have lots of gay friends. All I know is I will not be meeting my first husband here.

Today I had an interview at Warner Music, referred to them by my Favorite boss at Viacom that used to work there. It sounds like a great job and I really am praying I get it.

And this is my life.

Normal Life Has Commenced

After a brief almost month long hiatus in the Republic of Texas, I have returned to work at MTV.

Everything is not normal on the Eastern front. My dear close friend is still angry with me over a Christmas mishap. I swear, I just hate Christmas. Not only is he what I assume is angry with me but he is being indifferent to me and flat out ignoring me. Probably the safe thing to do at the moment because now I am pretty livid over it and I would probably rip him a 'New One'. Frankly, I am not either pissed nor livid. My feelings are really hurt and that is worse than either. Shame on him.

I think I may move back to Texas later this year.

Special Exemption Ricki

This is the story of my flight to Texas.

December 30, 2006

I was angry. I had the shittiest of a shitty holiday season, people were mad at me for gifts and I had ZERO tolerance for anything.

I had to pay $25 at the ticket counter because the new piece of luggage I bought 2 days prior was 15 pounds over limit. And one wheel had broken off. Of course my other bag was 25 pounds under the limit but they said I could not take the time to shift things.

The flight from Laguardia had taken off late and then when I connected in Atlanta they taxied around the airport so long I thought they were just driving me to my Mom's house in Fort Worth. When we did finally drove up to the gate, the pilot announced if we were making a connection there would be a Ticket Agent at the gate to direct us to where we needed to be.

I got off the plane and I was at the very back so I was last and then there was an airline employee behind the desk rummaging around while I and a few other passengers just looked at each other waiting patiently. We waited so politely and long that the crew came off the jet I was on. The guy walked from behind the counter and went and started talking to some stewardesses. Rage quickly ran through my veins and I said "Buddy! Wha cha doin?!" He asked what I meant and I said we were all waiting to be told where our connections were. Well, mine was in another terminal at the far back of that terminal and I had about 2 minutes to get there. I asked him to call them and he said there were some other passengers on their way and the plane would wait. Cool. Last plane to DFW by the way.

I got there in about 6 minutes and I figured I had 2 choices.

1. I could pee.
2. I could have a ciggy.

This was a no-brainer. I could pee on the plane so I had myself a smoke and waltzed into my gate. I was informed they were holding the plane for me. Cool. That's so damn nice!

The plane took off and we hit turbulence. Minor, but the 'Fasten Your Seat belt' sign was still on. I had to go. Bad. Everyone was still seated

Finally the crew started moving around and began to pull out the beverage cart. Shit. I knew if that was coming out I was going to be trapped somewhere. So I got up and proceeded to go to the Ladies Room. The stewardess stopped me. She appeared to be angry too and I thought for a brief moment we could share some camaraderie. Not the case.

Stewardess: Ma'am. The captain has yet to turn off the fasten your seat belt sign. You need to go sit back down.

Ricki: I am aware of that Ma'am. But I can either piss in there or piss in my seat.

Stewardess (real angry now): Well it is my job to tell you.

Ricki: Oh. Good job.

I just knew when I stepped out there was going to be an Air Marshall waiting for me, ready to throw me off the jet at the current 35,000 feet cruising altitude. Luckily Stewardess was angry at someone else now, there was a line at the bathroom (all fellow LGA - ATL passengers), the fasten your seat belt sign was still glowing red and the captain was giving a weather report.
All was well.

I think I have figured out why I never married.

Memories From The Good Old Days

While at Momma's this past visit, I was able to find my old CHS yearbooks. Here are some excerpts that I find amusing.

My Freshman Year - 1987
Just about everyone put I was 'the sweetest girl they knew'.
Boy, it sure went downhil form there.

My Senior Year - 1990

LOVE those NASTY clothes.
You are invited to my party. I will mail you a picture of my shirt.
- Michael McCabe - Class of 1992

You know I think you're the greatest.
Just try not to fuck off and make you life a shithole.
- Curtis Davee - Class of 1990 and my oldest friend in this world

Despite the fact you got kicked out of my party, I do like and appreciate you.
- Chris Martin - Class of 1990

I'm really glad that we're friends becasue it suckled hard when people were cool and said things that mattered. When the shit gets too high just fuck it and party on.
- Jeremie Gordon - Class of 1991

Don't drink anything I wouldn't.
- Jason Cook - Class of 1991

Gimme me damn 12 pack. I'm thirsty. It's bad luck to graduate with debts.
- KC Harrison - Class of 1992

There's no way in hell I could write down all the things we've been through, seen, done, seen done and done and been seen.
- Ricky Chewning - Class of 1991

Random Thoughts On Recent Discoveries

I like oatmeal. Who knew?

I just want to reinstate I do not want children. HUGE weight off my mind.

I would never live in Atlanta. Ever.
BUT . . . they do have nice peaches.

I have become attached to slippers. I did not realize how much so until I nearly caused a security breach in DFW the other day. After clearing security and I took a seat at Gate 15 to put my shoes back on. I am not used to carrying a carry-on bag because I just don't like to jack with it, but to avoid paying a surcharge for my primary bag being overweight, I had to borrow a bag from Anne we affectionately refer to as Brownie. Anyway, I put my shoes back on and headed toward the Texas Souvenir store to purchase the traditional "Don't Mess With Texas" bumper sticker. While I was shopping around, I heard this announcement: "would the passenger with the brown bag with the pink bunny slippers inside please claim it at the security checkpoint at Gate 15. This is the final announcement." At first I thought 'cool' because I have a pair of pink bunny slippers. Then, I immediately thought "Shit!". When I got to the Security checkpoint, I told the lady about my bag and I was met with laughter and applause. Weird. On the leg to Atlanta, there was this guy that told me they were thinking about shutting off the Terminal due to someone that left a bag with some bunny slippers in it at the gate. Who wears bunny slippers?
My thought was 'You son of a bitch. Don't you dare talk bad about my bunny slippers in front of me. I love those'

My best qualities are my thoughtfulness and generosity. I don't have much else to offer. You'll either like it or you won't. If you don't, then fuck you. I guess my sweetness is a pretty good quality too, come to think of it.

I love pain killers. You do too. If you say you don't, it's because you are in denial.

If there is anyone out there that can score me some airplane soap, please do so. It smells nice and leaves your hands silky smooth.

I really don't want to work anymore. I just want to have fun.

Everything Happens For A Reason

My last weekend in Texas I had planned on spending with my family. I did for the most part of it.

You see I had planned on going back to NYC on the 16th at first, then something came up and I was really wanting to get back by the 9th. For some reason I just kept delaying it and delaying it and delaying it.

My best friend is so fed up with her job and she is quitting after 13.5 years. Friday night she really needed me and I was glad I was here.

The weather has gotten really icey and immobile in North Texas and she dropped me off at my family's house early on Saturday. I had maybe been there 2 minutes and then I had to take Mamaw to the Emergency Room and we spent the day together there. It tears me up to see the fear in her eyes and the pain she suffers. She is 81 but still has the spirit of an 18 year old. She better have at least 10 more years left.

I love them so much and saying bye when my trip is over is the hardest thing in the world for me.

I am having such a hard time figuring out where I belong in this world. I think I will just quit trying so hard to search it out. It is in God's hands now and to be quite honest, I feel better about that as I feel I am not doing anything too right these last few weeks. Months, really. Surrender of all my woes and troubles and control is my only option and surprisingly, a most welcome one. The illusion of strength is more than I can bare right now.

I am just so tired.

It's The Little Things . . .

I managed to go get my Texas Driver's License yesterday without being arrested, unlike the last time.

Funny how sometimes it is the simple things in my life nowadays that make me proud. I mean I know plenty of other people out there that can just waltz on into the TXDPS and not have to worry about such things, but I have to admit I was a little afraid.

I am afraid no more, and that my friends, is a good feeling.

No Kids

I have pondered over the last few months if I want to have kids.

I have decided, in fact, I do not.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Bad Day At The Farm

This past Sunday was supposed to be such a good day. This is what I get for thinking.

We got up at 6:00 to drive out to Turf Express (1 hour and 45 minutes away) to see Hero's Crown, Anne's little baby thoroughbred, and his mother, Nugget.

I have to tell you, I miss road trips and driving in a car, especially in Texas. You just get to see so many cool things that are so familiar to me, and yet, so different to my every day life in New York. Plus the stops at the little country gas stations or restaurants where half the men in town talk about the weather, or in this case, the Cowboys and their 1 point loss to Seattle which kicked them out of the playoffs, which I am sure as shit not happy about. ** When we went to the Giants/Cowboys game last month, the New York fans kept yelling "Romo is a homo!" The men at this place didn't quite phrase it like that, but, in their own way, they meant the same thing, if not worse. ** We did manage to shave off 15 minutes in each direction thanks to Soundgarden, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, The Foo Fighters and Alice in Chains.

We got out to the horse place and it had recently rained. The mud was so high, and stupid ass me, had on her knee high boots that I need to wear to work. I couldn't even get to the fence. So I couldn't pet HC, only saw him from a distance. I couldn't even get 2 pastures away from poor Nuggy. So the mission was a waste of time, although I did get to go on a mini-road-trip. HOWEVER, I did have the pleasure of seeing a little 5 year day baby horse and that is just always so touching - see picture.

We got back to Roxanna's and the dogs next door had gotten into our trash so there was trash ALL OVER the yard.

Roxanna was coming home that day from her cruise, so we cleaned the house spotless and made some Cowboy Shepherds Pie and a homemade strawberry cake.

Tonya came over and we hung out for a while until Roxanna got home.

Roxanna did not have the fun time she thought she would. She was pretty bummed which bummed us out.

But, we decided before all this to have a spa night where will did girly things and played with make-up, talked and did our hair and nails. That turned to shit pretty quick.

They mean well and I love them like son of a bitches. Anne and Tonya had been adamant about me doing my hair darker and putting high-lites in it. I finally agreed although people generally like my hair and it is so long now. If I didn't like the darker blonde, I would just change it back. It was going OK but when I rinsed my hair and then towel dried it, I thought it may have been a little too brown. I was completely wrong.

I realize purple is the color of royalty, but not in my kingdom. I HATE purple. And now, my hair is a shade of purple I have never even seen before. There is no name for it, no way to describe it and it is definately unique to all other hair colors in every land, in every people.

After I fix this, I will always, until the the day I die, have long blonde hair to my ass. I don't care if I am 101 and I look like I am trying to be 23 again. I yelled at Anne and Tonya and slammed the door in their faces. I was so livid pissed, I cried. Needless to day, smoking secession is off the agenda and I am praying I will not go bald when I fix my hair Saturday. Then I felt bad and we all apologized and there is really nothing left to do but laugh about it.

Still, I would rather be here and all this happening than be in my normal life that I traveled 1,583 miles to escape myself, which I learned is like trying to run from your own shadow. I am plagued by my responsibilities and still have the weight of my woes, but it is somehow better. I had not even bought my return ticket until last night, which I was reluctant to do, but I know it needed to be done.

Also, it seems my Australian room mate is being kicked out of the country and his visa has expired so I will be living by myself at some point next month. It is fine. I just sense I will be lonely even more than I already am at times.

All things happen for a reason. I am still questioning what purple hair has to do with anything, but I have decided to not worry about it, not make any plans and just let life come and I will handle it when it gets there. I am on Oak.

Pranksters

Anne and I have been up to some shanagins.

I am at Roxanna’s in Springtown pet-sitting. Roxanna’s boyfriend, Rick, lives down the road with his best friend Cecil. We are feeding their cats too, as they are all on a cruise together with Cecil’s girlfriend, Christina, and Roxanna’s sister.

Anne asked Rick 3 times if he would bring us some wood for the fireplace because he has a big woodpile out on his property. We got here the other day and there was none. Well, Anne was annoyed and she called Rick and he told us we knew where he lived and we could go get our own firewood.

When feeding the cats the other night at the bachelor pad, I went to use the restroom and I noticed 2 Playboy magazines and some bifocals by the toilet. Men.

So, Anne and I decided to play a joke on the men and we took their Playboys. We went to The Nasty Shop and purchased 2 copies of Playgirl, which after looking at them decided they are sooooo cheesy. We carefully took the covers off the each of the 4 magazines and perfectly stapled the Playgirls inside the Playboy covers. We will replace their magazines where we originally found them. So when they go to look at the well worn centerfold of Miss May they are going to get a surprise and a Post-It note reading:

“ We forgive you for not bringing over anything to help with the fire. We even brought you some wood instead.”

That’s right.

The Glowing Tombstone

I have been in Springtown Texas (about 40 minutes outside Fort Worth) since Sunday night. I get to pet-sit the horses and cats while my friend Roxanna is on a cruise this week. She has a great house – inside fireplace, outside fireplace, Jacuzzi tub, swimming pool and a kitchen where I have really whipped up some fantastic meals, plus the peace and quiet, stars and a full moon this week. This is seriously the best quality of life one could dream of.

Now, speaking of Springtown and full moons . . .

There is a ghost legend of The Glowing Tombstone out here. Right in the center of the cemetery, there is a tombstone that glows an eerie green. Nobody knows why or anything. There have also been reports of a female ghost walking around her grave. As I have seen with my own eyes the green light, I have never encountered the woman ghost. Some say cars’ engines stop and doors lock when you get out. Luckily that has never happened to me.

The first time I ever went and saw this was when Rodney and I were together and we were with Kim and David. We were just young-uns. We threw back a few drinks and made the journey. Sure enough, we saw it. As plain as the nose on my face.

I love shit like this. Hauntings, ghostly phenomenon, scary stuff - I should say I love the thought of it. More accurately, I would love to love the thought of it. Once I dedicate myself and finally commence such adventures, I either creep myself out with anticipation along the journey or once we get there I piss everybody off by being the biggest ‘fraidy-cat you have ever seen or I scream and it scares everyone else. The long ride home is always the worst part of it. That and my weak bladder when I am scared or laugh too much, which is always entertaining for everyone else.

As many times as I have been to this house before, I decided to go revisit this tombstone, which I have not seen in about 16 years. It only happens to be about 10 miles away, way less than down the road by Texas standards. I have been telling Anne about it since I have known her and I decided since there was a full moon out, it was long overdue.

Yesterday, I called Kim and got directions which were as follows: Take the road by the cemetery on the main street in town, go down the road and look for a big ranch with a barn about 1 foot from the road followed by an old gnarly dead tree. Take the first right and a couple of blocks down the road the cemetery is on the left. They were perfect, thank you very much, Kim.

Of course it was dark, foggy, there are absolutely no lights whatsoever, trees enveloped the road, there was not a person in sight and the whole creepy factor was almost too damn much for me. We actually passed Veal Station Cemetery and had to turn around. So when we drove back by the cemetery was on my side of the car. I had my camera ready. I told Anne she better not stop, but then I made her back the car up. There was a fresh grave dug in the middle, the dirt mound piled high. We didn’t see the glow, but I think it may have been blocked by the dirt mound. We were just so creeped-out we came home. Oh and we were hauling ass so fast on the way back, we almost flew over a curb and drove through someone’s living room.

I think we are going again Sunday night.