Thursday, May 28


I'm posting at

bye guys

Monday, March 30


So... I've been gone for a little while. Ooops.

No excuses. I started putting everything else ahead of my blog time when we all know how much you need me. I'm sorry sweeties.

The good news is that I'm in the new apartment as of today. AND I have vodka. I know, big surprise, right? The even better news is that I should have wifi by the end of the week. So I'll be back permanently soon.

Don't worry - I won't expect fatted calf until I've posted consecutively for a week. I've missed you guys.

Love ya!

Tuesday, February 24


I write my parent's eulogies in my head sometimes and I have no idea why. Sometimes I'll be driving and hear a song on the radio that will prompt the writer in my head to start scribbling. Sometimes i'll come out of a daydream and a phrase or sentence will be there.

Inevitably it makes me teary eyed. I don't want either of my parents to die. It isn't something that I like thinking about. I don't sit around writing any of this stuff down either - this is more like snatches of dreams that float through my mind. They are disturbing and sometimes painfull. I have NO idea why I'm sharing this with you guys except I came up with a great sentence this morning that totally summarized my relationship with Papa G. Of course, I've forgotten it now.

While I'm on this funeral kick - I have a playlist for mine. Well, not so much the funeral itself, but for the vodka soaked wake I'm all set. Here's a sample...

American Girl - Tom Petty
She Came In Through The Bathroom Window - The Beatles
People Get Ready - Curtis Mayfield and the Impressions
If It's Magic - Stevie Wonder
Ice Cream - Sarah McLachlan
With or Without You - U2
I'll Work For Your Love - Bruce Springsteen
For The Good Times - Ray Price
A Rose is Still A Rose - Aretha
Steppin Out With My Baby - Tony Bennet
Fly Me To The Moon - Frank Sinatra
Strength, Courage and Wisdom - India
#41 - Dave Matthews
Leeds - Indigo Girls

Wednesday, February 18


It seems the NYP ran a cartoon depicting the shooting of the chimpanzee that went on a rampage (which is sick enough) and the tagline referenced President Obama. I'm not going to link to the cartoon. I know you can find it ten million other places on the web.

It's sad that people in this country still try to deny their fellows citizens humanity based on skin color.
It's sad that other people think it's funny.
So - no more gossip rag for me.
All I have to say is: FU NYP.

Saturday, February 14


MyHeritage: Celebrity Collage - Family tree templates - Pedigree

I don't think I look like any of these people...but apparently the computers do!

i heart you

I'm at work. On Valentine's Day. Which is fine because I am SO single, but I love my job.
And my minions.
Hope you're all having a great day!

i heart u

Monday, February 9

listen to what the man said

So I'm listening to President Obama talk about the economic stimulus package tonight and something struck me about his arguments for it. He was talking about a specific proposal (I'm going to paraphrase here) to retrofit government buildings to be more energy efficient. Apparently there are some questions as to how this is stimulus. Well first it creates and/or saves jobs immediately, because someone has to plan and then do the actual work, so there are people who get paychecks they can then use to pay bills and feed their families, which sounds like stimulus to me. Oh, but it will also end up saving the taxpayers money on fuel to heat and cool those buildings, so we could use the money to do other things. And then there's the added bonus that we won't be wasn't that energy anymore. Like he said - how is this a bad idea?

He basically just laid it out there, step by step. In the half hour I've been watching he's done that over and over. Someone asks a question and he takes them through the answer step by step (except on Iran, because he totally didn't want to answer that one).

I'm reading my book and listening with half an ear but I keep glancing up at the TV because something is different. Something has changed. It's more than the fact that we have a President who can talk in complete sentences without bumbling and shuffling and whinig about how it's hard. It's that I'm hearing something out of Washington that I haven't heard in a damn long time...

what's that sound?


I'm just sayin'...

Sunday, February 8

I had my good eye to the darkness...

and my blind eye to the sun...

I hate being sick-it gives me too much time to think. I can’t really do anything else. I’ve read all the books I own and I don’t have the energy to get myself to the library. I’ve seen all the movies I own and don’t really feel like watching them again. There isn’t anything on TV that holds my interest, so I take some NyQuil , put in a West Wing DVD and doze.

I’m a horrible patient, even for myself, and this round of sickness – a head cold that I’ve had three times in as many months, is straining my relationship with me. My mind skips in fits and starts across my past and my dreams become disturbing, filled with images that make no sense and leave me questioning myself when I wake.

Whoever came up with that “sticks and stones” nonsense should be shot, because it just isn’t true. Years ago he told me that I was insane and should be committed and I have never been able to shake the sound of his voice saying those words from my head. They tainted all the wonderful memories of his voice before them. Even though I know it isn’t true. Even though I know that everything he said then was a palliative to make it easier for him to excuse kicking me onto the street, literally, those words crop up again when I am at my most vulnerable. They make me want to tell all of his secrets to the people he loves. They make me want to hurt him. They make me realize why victims of crime should never sit on a jury.

Then I think about Nicole andVal and Susan and how alike they are. Do I attract a certain type of friend? Nicole in high school, Susan in college, Val now. I’d be fine with it except for the fact that I seem to have to lose one to move on to the next. I miss you, Susan, just not the person I was when I knew you. I doubt that you miss me.

I remember driving down a winding coastal two lane highway late at night in SC and thinking about turning the wheel into the path of the truck coming towards me. I remember thinking that it was a beautiful night to die. Instead I drove home. Still, I doubt I’ll ever drive to Edisto Island again.

Listening to Working on a Dream now sends me back to the nights I stayed up for hours playing The Rising over and over again. So much happened in my life in 2001 that by the time I got that album in 2002 it seemed almost like a lifeline; Bruce’s voice and the bands’ music pulling me up and out of the darkness more than the shrink or the meds. It was not abstract, that music was something firm that I could hold on to when everything around me turned to quicksand.

The days are racing towards my 30th birthday and my last cigarette. It feels like someone dying slowly – every day is a goodbye.

My life is presenting me with so many opportunities to live up to the things I preach. I’m not sure I have the energy to do it all sometimes. Other times I wish I could skip ahead, through the next few months which I am sure will be hard and full of tests and trials. Then again I think that I have everything I need to move forward and that each moment, especially the hardest of them, should be savoured.

Sometimes I look at how far I’ve come and I cry for where I was then, and how far I have to go. Sometimes I look back in anger. Sometimes I look forward with fear. Sometimes I don’t look, I just walk on.

Thursday, February 5

kevin mckidd

maybe it's my latent Scottish blood...but all I can say is... yum! (I am so glad he's talented so I don't feel quite so sleazy)

Really people, go get Rome...or just start watching Grey's Anatomy... or find some Journeyman episodes, or BBC the man, please!

Tuesday, February 3

it's just a little crush

I mean it's not like he's Kevin McKidd or anything (I really have to get a handle on that - celeb crushes are so weird to me!) but I have a crush on this guy.

He lives at the apartment complex where I work and I've talked to him maybe a handful of times, mostly about apartment stuff. I don't know him. But I like him. I get butterflies when he walks in the door. When I found out about the fire my first thought was that it was in his building and was he ok (he was). Then tonight he told me that he's headed to Afghanistan soon (he's in the Air Force).

Now here's the thing - or things:
Even if he wasn't going overseas I could never actually date him because he lives at my job - it's a big no-no...
And I have no idea if he's even seeing anyone...
And I'm horrible at flirting with guys I actually like...
And he could not be attracted to me or interested in getting to know me at all...
And I am waay too old to have a crush. This is not high school.

But - I like the fact that on any given day I could see him. I like the fact that he's just there, you know? And soon he won't be.

Soon he'll be going to a place where I've lost too many people that I care about already. So, even though I don't know him, I'll miss him and I'll worry about him. I'll hope that he's ok. Until he leaves I'll keep hoping to see him come through the door and smile at me. And I'll keep thinking in my silly, girly heart...maybe...

For tonight I'm listening to Bruce, looking up a vodka we talked about tonight on 'teh internets' and playing Jewel Quest on my computer like the dork I am.

But tomorrow maybe I'll see him...maybe...

* In comments - anyone else out there with a hopeless crush? Any advice for me on mine?

Monday, February 2

bad super bowl commercials come to life


I have never even pretended to understand men. It’s a silly thing to try to do. Understanding the people in your life is a worthy goal, as long as you know that it is only attainable to a certain degree. Understanding a group, however, is completely ridiculous.

I’m a fan of men. I like the way they walk, talk, smell and taste. I like the way they never think I can play poker as well as they can – and so does my wallet. I like the way they try to protect me and they way they can sometimes drive me even more insane than I usually am. I do not, ever, pretend to understand them or how testosterone poisoning actually works.

If it isn’t obvious already, I met a guy last night. I went to a Super Bowl party at a friend’s house and was talking about my new puppy (who I’ve decided to name Bartlet). I mentioned that I told Mama G to get ready for her Grand Puppy because he just may be the only grand she gets and this sparked a whole round of, “But don’t you want kids?” and “But you’d be such a great mom!” These things are true – I will be a fantastic mom and I do want kids but as I said last night, “Where is he? Is he hiding in a cabinet somewhere (we were in the kitchen)? Because I am NOT the turkey baster type.”

Fate, with whom I’ve never had a great relationship in the first place, decided to play a little joke on me. In walked Terry. Terry is yummy – that’s really all there is to it. He’s 35, not as tall as I’d like, but shoulders... really, just...shoulders. Anyway we chatted, because I am quite yummy myself and Terry was interested.

But here’s the thing, minions (especially you single male minions) we are not in high school! Do not try to be smooth or cute. If you want my phone number take a chance and ask me. I realize it’s not the easiest thing to do in the world, but grow a pair and speak up. DO NOT ask to see my cell phone and then just call yourself from it. First of all, I still have a SC phone number, so you just look like an idiot when it doesn’t work and second WE ARE NOT IN HIGH SCHOOL. Use your words children.

It isn’t the fact that he texted me five times today when I was busy at work and then decided to call me when I didn’t respond to any of them that bugs me(well, maybe a little), it’s still the attitude from last night. Was it Chris Rock that said that a woman knows within five seconds of meeting a man whether or not she’s going to sleep with him and all he can do at that point is fuck it up for himself? I think it was and I think truer words may never have been spoken.

In any case, Terry now has a hole to dig himself out of. I’m not quite sure how interested I am now in the light of sober/hungover day but we’ll see. So guys please, just be yourselves – we’ll either like you or we won’t. Don’t try to be smooth. Ask for what you want, don’t assume, because unless your name is Kevin McKidd you are just not attractive enough to get away with that shiggity.

And completely off topic, I have no idea where my fascination with KMK came from. I’ve never been attracted to anyone who looks even remotely like him. The whole red hair, blue eyes, pale skin combo is SO not my cup of tea. The man just has something. Go get Rome or check him out on Grey’s Anatomy and maybe you can explain it to me. In the meantime I’ll just enjoy:-).

Friday, January 30

of snobs and bosses

I’d like to have a blog like I’d like to have The Snob’s wit, time, know how and dedication to her blog. I’d like to be able to scour the web and bring a fresh (snobby) take on everything from TJ Holmes’ cuteness to the latest legislation coming out of DC. That would be awesome.

Instead I’m a dedicated reader of The Snob. She cracks me up on a regular basis and I LOVE her new site – there’s just so much more Snob now and that is exactly what the world needs. Or maybe it’s just what I need and really, isn’t that the same thing? I’m fine with my blog and I adore my minions, you know that. But every once in a while... blogousy rears its’ ugly head. All this is the long way of saying that The Black Snob has launched a new site which is completely fantastic and you should all go, minions, and read her articles, post comments and start your own threads on her boards. Have a great time!

Now – as much as I’m no super blogger I am REALLY not a music critic or a musician either. I did the requisite piano lessons as a child and I’ve noodled around on the sax and guitar, but I’m no Bruce. Fortunately for us all Bruce Springsteen has a new record out, Working on a Dream. I grew up on Bruce, not because of one of my sisters or parents, but because I was a radio junky and he ruled rock radio in the 80’s. We went our separate ways in the 90’s. And then The Rising came out and it was like he had written that record just for me. I still can’t fully express how much those songs touched me and helped me heal after the hell my life was in 2001-2002. Magic seemed like the perfect follow up record and again Bruce was sitting somewhere writing songs just for me (he’s totally a minion, folks). Was there any way that this new record could really create the perfect trilogy? Can you hit three home runs in a row?

If you want the info from someone who actually knows what they’re talking about on a musical level buy the latest issue of Rolling Stone and you can read all about it. If you want to figure it all out for yourself listen to The Rising, Magic and Working on a Dream in that order. Maybe you’ll feel, as I did, so acutely grateful for this life and its wonders and how few minutes you really have left to live. It’s a painful joy and a beautiful regret.

All this is the long way of saying that Bruce and E Street have hit three home runs in a row. Let them show you what love can do.

ps - Shaun likes me! He really likes me! (He and DFC obviously have fantastic taste)

Monday, January 26

On My Honor

The Girl Scout Law

I will do my best to be
honest and fair,
friendly and helpful,
considerate and caring,
courageous and strong, and
responsible for what I say and do,
and to respect myself and others,
respect authority,
use resources wisely,
make the world a better place, and
be a sister to every Girl Scout.

The Girl Scouts of America will be selling fewer cookies this year. It was announced that the boxes will be shrunk by about a centimetre but will cost the same as a response to the rising prices of ingredients, most of which have risen 10-40%.

I have really great memories of my time as a Girl Scout. I always hated selling the cookies, but loved eating them with my friends at meetings, or with my mom (straight out of the freezer), or with the girls at Camp Congaree, where I worked for two summers.

When I first saw the article about the GS financial troubles I thought of the jokes people would immediately make and then I thought about lemons. Working at the camp over the summers you develop some strange eating habits – it’s called survival. A box of Lemon Cremes that’s been in the back of the freezer for a couple of days with some industrial strength institutional powdered lemonade over ice – THAT will cool you off and make the chirping, screeching and general whininess of 7-12 year old girls easier to bear.

Those cookies are actually magic, you know. They keep girls off the street and empower them. They impart knowledge and build friendships. They let girls who would never be able to afford a sleep away camp experience the freedom and camaraderie of a week away from it all. They give broke college students summer jobs and teachers extra income. They grant scholarships and passports so that girls can explore the world and their own possibilities. If you think I’m exaggerating please go to the website

Girls Scout cookies gave me late night stomach aches with my best friends while we fought over which New Kid On The Block we would marry. They gave me horseback riding, a faith in myself and two heroes all in one week. They saw me through many late night readings of Shakespeare. When Stone died I was eating Thin Mints while I cried, glued to the TV. When I needed money for a trip to Scotland to perform at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival they gave me a summer job where I could carry on a legacy and become a hero. They took me white water rafting and turned a girl from New Zealand into my twin.

So even though the boxes will be smaller the power is undiminished. Buy a cookie. No matter what we told the girls who still would not be quiet at one a.m. they are NOT made out of real girls, but many real girls have been made from those cookies.
* I wrote this and then couldn't get this song out of my here you go, one of my favorite super cheesy campsongs:

Chorus :
On my honor, I will try.
There's a duty to be done and I say aye.
There's a reason to be here for a reason above.
My honor is to try and my duty is to love.

People don't need to know my name.
If I've done any harm, then I'm to blame.
If I've helped someone, then I've helped me.
And I've opened up my eyes to see.


I've tucked away a song or two.
If you're feeling low, there's one for you.
If you need a friend, then I will come.
And there's many mmore where I come from.


Friendship is the strangest thing
if you keep it to yourself, no reward will bring
but you gave it away, you gave it to me
and from now on great friends we'll be


Come with me where the fire burns bright,
We can even see better by the candle's light.
And we'll find moremeaning in a campfire's glod,
Than we've ever found in a year or so.


We've a promise to always keep.
And to pray "Softley Falls" before we sleep.
We are Girl Scouts together and when we're gone,
We'll still be trying and singing this song.

People have called me naive. They have asked me how I can be so educated and still have rose colored glasses on; how I can get so angry and still be so hopeful. Well - these are some of the things I was taught as a child. Songs like On My Honor and things like the Girl Scout Law were taught to me by young women who were cool, sure of themselves and their power. They showed me that I was cool, that I was powerful and that service was cool and could be powerful as well.

It might be strange to have all of these feelings brought up by an article about cookies but it's the little things, I guess, that do it to me. In this case I started thinking about the box of Lemon Cremes in my freezer at home and ended up thinking about the amazing women and girls I've me through scouting - and how they changed my life

Thursday, January 22

First Day Back

Its’ seven o’clock and I just got home from work. I’m tired and I’m still fighting this head cold thingy but my first thought on getting in the car and heading towards home was: ‘I wonder how school went?’ This morning when I was in the shower and bitching to myself about having to go into work when I’m sick and exhausted I thought: ‘The girls have to go to school today, suck it up.’

I have never been a celebrity stalker type. I don’t read the mags and I’m usually the last person to know who got married/divorced/knocked up, etc. Part of this is because at one time I thought I’d end up being a celebrity and that whole ‘do unto others’ thing stuck with me and part of it is because I really couldn’t care less. As talented or beautiful or whatever as they may be they aren’t my family or friends and their lives have no bearing on mine. I also cannot see in any way how this is news. I believe that privacy is an absolute right and that most people’s personal lives are not as interesting as whatever I’m thinking about at the moment. My personal taste and arrogance has thus far kept most famous people safe from my prying eyes.

But I’d like to know how Sasha and Malia’s first day back at school was. I’m one of those people who would have crashed the J Crew website if I had a young girl to buy clothes for because those outfits were just too cute. I could totally rock pink and orange by the way – even if I am no longer an adorable seven year old.

So what is it about these two little girls who didn’t run

for anything or ask for anything more than a puppy, and certainly not all of this attention? I see some of myself in them, of course. I was precocious and my parents (especially my father) delighted in my wit. I was also usually the one who got to take him down a peg with some joke, or by being bored by some speech he was giving (though never on the national stage). I also remember my parents looking at each other like that when I was little and dancing like that.

They’re also like the children I hope to have.

Maybe that is what it is. For all of his talk of hope, and faith and confidence there is no physical symbol for that. Maybe when I look at them I see a reason to hope, because a world that made these two darlings surely can make itself worthy of them. I see a reason to have faith, for aren’t children the perfect proof that there is a God? And I see a reason for confidence – we have to do it, so we will, they are looking to their father, and all of us.

I don’t have a child of my own to see these things in, or wish things for and I catch only fleeting glimpses inside myself of the child that I was. I look at those girls and see all these things in an electric blue coat. It is too much to ask them to ever live up to. It is too much for any child to have to stand for and yet it is what they all do.

And so I must confess that I really want to know how school went today and I hope there was something warm and sweet waiting when they got home, because it was cold out there.