Archive | Uncategorized RSS feed for this section

Where Cats Come to Die

12 Nov

There was a dead cat in the front lawn of my apartment building the other day.

Its body kind of lined up directly with my window.  I think the power of my crazy cat lady aura has gotten so strong that cats have begun to drag themselves to my apartment to die.  It’s like they know I’ll take care of them.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do when I first saw it.  Mostly because it looked like it was just sleeping in the grass, except for the breathing and what-have-you.  But also because I was pretty certain that if it’d been hit, the side that I couldn’t see was probably going to scar me for life.  So I called the Bureau of Animal Care and Control but it was emergency hours only and they told me to call back in the morning.

I went back in my apartment, wrote a reminder for the AM, and went about my bumming around the place.  But I had my windows open and every time someone passed the cat on the front lawn, it was like a little piece of theater.  They were all such honest, genuine, and varied reactions.  I, like a crazy lady, peeked through the blinds in my living room to watch and to ensure that no one did anything odd to it. 

For some reason, people love to play with carcasses.

Almost everyone who went by it came back to do a double take, kept walking, came back out of guilt, picked up something nearby, and then poked it to see if it was dead.  After assessing that it was, they moved on with a furrowed brow realizing that they hadn’t really thought it through and didn’t know what to do now.

I figured that at the rate at which people pass by my apartment and the number of hours until the Bureau was open, that cat was going to get many more curious pokes than it would have liked (kinky). After all, it came to my apartment to die so that I could stop that sort of thing from happening.  I’m a cat lady; it trusted me.

So I scribbled up a maniacal note that said 

“Yes, unfortunately this cat has passed away.  The Bureau of Animal Care and Control has been called.  They will handle.  

Thank you for your concern.   – A Fellow Animal Lover”

After I stuck it into the soft ground with a pen as a stake, I went back in to watch the people pass and was glad that the scene had changed.  People stopped, felt badly, read the note, smiled crookedly, and moved on.  I had removed the curious poking part altogether.

When I woke in the morning, I called the Bureau and then looked outside to check the scene.

The cat was in a box.

I talked to Dave, who has been working some terribly odd hours lately, and he noted that when he came in during the wee hours of the AM, the cat was in the middle of the sidewalk.

So this is how the story went: someone wanted to play with a carcass, moved it to the sidewalk, played with it, and left it there.  At that point in time, my letter must have looked like an odd half-attempt at caring, since it was being featured beside a cat’s body that had clearly been tampered with. Then someone came along, saw the scene, and decided to put it in a box with some leaves over top so that when the Bureau came they still had a cat to remove but it wasn’t in the middle of the sidewalk all gutted and gross.

That made it look like I found a dead cat, put it in a box with some leaves on top, and then put a note to tell people the problem was being handled.

The next morning, the Bureau removed it. I can’t imagine what they must have assumed of my neighborhood, but I hope that at least the cat knew I tried my best to get it a proper taking care of.

Then again maybe it’s best that word doesn’t get out to the other cats that my front lawn is the place to croak.  Transitioning into a cat lady is bad enough.  Transitioning into a crazy cat lady that dead cats crawl to from near and far in order to get a proper burial?

That’s on a whole other level of nutty. ♣

For a cat in a box story that is much happier, check out Maru – one of the world’s coolest cats.

Tags: , , , , ,

Beyonce Makes Me Doubt My Womanhood

11 Nov

I feel like I would be more of a woman if I could gyrate like Beyonce.

We all feel this, right? It’s not just me.

I’ve been watching the Single Ladies video over and over again in awe.  I mean, I’ve seen it before – who hasn’t?  But I saw something or other for a recent video of hers, which inevitably led to Single Ladies sidebar suggestion, which inevitably led to me questioning my womanhood.

Take a moment.  Really, take a moment and just look at this madness.  Remind yourself of your inferiority.  Listen, you don’t have to watch the whole thing.  Watch from 0:51 – 0:58.   7 seconds is really all it takes to start doubting your femininity.  (If you’re a reader of the male equipping, you can just go ahead and enjoy it.)

Honestly, how does she even do that? I’ve seen women who can dance and then I’ve seen this detaching of the pelvis and whipping it around in circles.  It’s amazing.

Dave asked me last night why I was continually watching it and what exactly I was looking for.  Once I spotted the sequence, I shouted excitedly so he could come witness the magic.  He said, “what, the hip thing?”

“David.  That is so much more than ‘a hip thing’.”, I said.   “She’s swinging her pelvis around like it isn’t connected to anything else.  And then she just gets up and keeps whippin’ around.  It’s madness, I say.  MADNESS.”

Perhaps this is the reason he is with me.  He’s unaffected by the pelvic magic. The Beyonces of the world have no hold over him.  Which is a mighty good thing since I’m completely uninclined. In fact, I took a Modern Dance class my sophomore year in college just to challenge myself and smacked my head off the stage floor in the final.

There was an audience.  A fairly large one.

I got an A.  She noted in my final evaluation that I had great stage presence,  which is fantastic because I also had two left feet and an overwhelming inability to sense my surroundings.

I’ll admit that this past week I looked up a few YouTube videos with workouts that mirrored this sort of woman beastiness. I looked pathetic.  Also, the women in the videos are wearing very little so I also did a lot of feeling badly about myself while I jiggled.

So kudos to you, Beyonce – your hips have the power to make women doubt that they’re really women.  That’s a powerful quality indeed.   You keep on keepin’ on.  

I’ve got some weeping and jiggling to do. ♣

Tags: , , , , , , ,

The End of an Era

10 Nov

Last night, Joe Paterno was handed a letter saying he was fired fifteen minutes before a press conference where it was announced.

A man gives his entire life to an employer and is fired in a letter after he already opted to retire at the end of the season.

Whatever your opinion on the Sandusky Scandal at Penn State University is, make no mistake that this is a study in the power of the media, who put Paterno at the forefront (who it was agreed he did no legal wrongdoing) but allowed Curley to take administrative leave and Shultz to step down on his own, who both failed to take Paterno’s report to the next level and then lied to a grand jury about it.  Later, Curley chose to resign as well.  Why did everyone get an ultimatum from the Board but Paterno? They didn’t get letters; they got their legal fees covered by PSU.

By the way, McQueary, the man who saw Sandusky raping a child with his own eyes, still works there as well. 

I tried to write about other things today; honest.   But hey, instead of reading me today, read an article or two on this situation.  It’s a dynamic and dangerous monster.

Back to the regular business tomorrow, folks.  Thanks for letting me take a break from the typical topics to address something about which I feel very strongly. 

Feel free to discuss your thoughts on the situation, whatever they may be, so long as they’re addressed respectfully.♣

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Why Joe Paterno Shouldn’t Have to Leave

9 Nov

You can call Joe Paterno a coward and I wouldn’t disagree with you.

You can say that if Paterno would have followed through on his report, Jerry Sandusky would have been a sexual predator behind bars instead of a sexual predator roaming campus, luring young boys, and living in the comforts that his Penn State job provided him. You can say that because of the way the allegations against Sandusky were handled, the Penn State name has been tarnished, a cloud has been invited to hover over the famously successful football program, and a myriad of students and alumni are ashamed and disgusted. And again, I wouldn’t disagree with you.

But Joe Paterno shouldn’t have to leave his job unless he wants to; of this I am certain.

For the record, I don’t follow football and I didn’t go to Penn State.  

For those of you unaware of the news that has swept over Happy Valley these past several days, I advise you to Google Jerry Sandusky.  Or if you prefer (and think you can handle the wincing you will undoubtedly do as you read it), here is the Grand Jury Report on the matter.  It’s unpleasant.   It’s the story of young boys being treated badly by a man lacking integrity.

To put it mildly.

There is a rapidly growing consensus that because Paterno did what was required of him by law and no more, he should not stay on as coach of the Penn State football team.  The number of media outlets calling for Joe Paterno’s resignation and/or touting his moral failure include The Tribune Review, the Star-Ledger, Sports Illustrated, NBC Sports, ESPN Radio, The Altoona Mirror, and a myriad of others.

Perhaps the loudest resonating of these is that of The Patriot News Editorial Board, which featured a front page stating: “There are the obligations we all have to uphold the law. There are then the obligations we all have to do what is right.”

I entirely disagree.

We don’t have any obligation to do what is right.  As a society, we have agreed that we have an obligation to do what is law.  Though we would like to think that people feel morally obligated one way or another above and beyond the call of the law, the fact remains that our obligation insomuch as that we can be held accountable and hold others accountable stops where the law stops.  We are only obligated to do what is required of us, which is exactly what Joe Paterno did.  Having had a report brought to him about Sandusky’s alleged sexually inappropriate act, he reported the matter to his superiors – one of whom (Schulz) was an administrative head of the campus police.

But people don’t disagree that he did what was legally required of him.  In fact, both the Attorney General and the PA State Police Commissioner stated that there has been no legal wrongdoing on the part of Paterno.  The problem is that people believe that when nothing came of the report, Paterno should have done more.   He should have gone above and beyond what was simply required of him and met a higher standard – a super-legal standard – a moralstandard.

For failing this, call him a coward – fine.  Say that he has morally failed – fair.  But you cannot take away a man’s job because of either of those reasons.   

The graduate assistant saw a young boy being raped with his own eyes and yet we do not focus our wrath on him.  Paterno reported the incident to his superiors, who were legally obligated to report it.  They did not.  And yet we are not content to focus our wrath only on them.   We want Joe, because while we agree that he did what was required of him, we believe that what was required of him was not enough. 

I believe that’s our problem as a society, not his. If we want to hold people to a higher standard, then we must improve the state of our legislation.  We must require more of people.  We must see to it that the bare minimum is enough.  Because in examples such as this, that is all people will do and it fails to protect the innocent.

I don’t believe Paterno should have to leave his post as the PSU football coach because I don’t think we should be in the business of asking people to leave their jobs because they fail morally.  Yes, I think he could have and should have done more.  Yes, I think there’s something wrong with the structure of report within the University’s guidelines.  Yes, I think that had something more been done, a plethora of boys could have been spared alleged victimization by Sandusky.

But I don’t think Penn State can implement a reporting structure that has clearly failed and then penalize one of its employees when they fail to go above and beyond that reporting structure.   Likewise, we cannot agree that Paterno did nothing illegal and seek punishment nonetheless.

Joe Paterno did what was required of him and no more.  He could have, and he should have.  We can call him a coward, we can say that he morally failed, but we should not call on him to resign.  ♣

Update: Paterno announced that he would retire at the end of the season in the wake of the PSU scandal, saying that that Board need not spend any time on figuring out how to handle the situation because they had more important matters to address. Sadly, the Board of Trustees at PSU fired Joe Paterno via a hand-delivered letter on Wednesday, November 9th.

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

An Attempt at Lucid Dreaming

8 Nov

I’m not sleeping much lately.  In fact, at all. I’m trying really hard but it’s just not working out.  So this week, it’s only appropriate that I attempted to complete my Lollipop Tuesday in my sleep.  Literally.

Happy Lollipop Tuesday, you beautiful ladies and gentlemen.

I’m incredibly intrigued by the idea of lucid dreaming.  For those of you unaware, lucid dreaming is basically the state of being aware you are dreaming, which allows you to take control and manipulate the actions in your dreams.  There are a slew of tips and tricks for how to accomplish this, though on occasion it will happen independent of effort.  It usually sparks when you’re in a dream and realize that something defies reality.  For the most part, we accept anything that happens in our dreams.  For example, I’ve played Monopoly underground with grizzly bears and my grandparents and nothing struck me as odd.  However, when I ended up underwater in a dream and finally couldn’t hold my breath any longer, the realization that I can indeed breathe sparked me into lucid dreaming.

There were mermaids.  It was awesome; thanks for asking.

I’ve been reading up on ways to encourage more lucid dreaming and came across this list.  Most suggestions (keep a dream journal, look at your hands and ask yourself if you’re dreaming) are efforts made over a long period of time and maybe when I tire of this world, I’ll dedicate more time in reality to successfully escaping to fantasy.

After all, flying in a lucid dream is pretty much the best thing ever.  

Ever.

But for now, I was content to attempt a short term goal and initiate my own lucid dreaming experience by taking tip numbers 5 and 6 in this WikiHow: How to Lucid Dream.  Basically, it required me to set my alarm for 5 hours into my sleep cycle, wake up, and dedicate time to focusing on my dream, what happened, and the desire to remain in it.  The idea is that when I fall back asleep, I actively attempt to ease back into the dream but with the knowledge now that I am in it.

Doesn’t that sound awesome?  Doesn’t it sound totally killer to be able to wake up in the middle of the night, lasso control of your dream, and lie back down for the remainder of your sleep session flying over walls, talking to animals, and saying and doing anything you want? You can bend spoons with your mind or buy a circus elephant for your backyard.  All your deepest desires can be indulged.

Except last night I didn’t dream.

Or at least if I did, it was nowhere near the 5-hour mark.  All I did was wake up 5 hours into my dream, recognize the fact that I did not, in fact have anything to focus on or remember because my mind was a vapid, white space.  So I fell back asleep unaccomplished.

It’s unfortunate, really.  Perhaps this takes training or time or something special that just didn’t work out for me last night.  I’m not even really upset that I woke myself up in the middle of the night for no good reason.  I’m upset that I’m not writing a post about becoming a mermaid queen or discovering time travel or turning into a three-toed sloth and telling of my lazy adventures in the forest.

Don’t judge me.  There’s no judging on The Jackie Blog.  I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this.

I might try again tonight.  And maybe the following night.  After all, if I’m not sleeping well I might as well use that time to do something productive, like cure cancer or transform into a wallaby.

Plus, ever since I first failed at Lollipop Tuesday (Geocaching, followed by apple pie, followed by lack of lucid dreaming), I’ve been harboring a sort of resentment toward myself that might not be reconciled until I right my wrongs.   Maybe I can use my next lucid dream to successfully geocache and then celebrate with a well done apple pie.

Who knew that sleep could be so very productive and delicious? ♣

Tags: , , , , , ,

A Calling from the WordPress Wizards

7 Nov

*cue angelic choir*

When I sat in from of my magical screen of wonder last night, I didn’t have anything to write about for today.

It’s been a while since that’s happened.  Usually I can at least write a bad post.  But last night I couldn’t even write a bad one.  I just couldn’t write anything.  So I did what I usually do when I have an issue with words, which is go check the drafts I have in my queue to see what half-written posts I’ve abandoned in the past that might be recharged with a bit of go-get’um-ness.

I had ten in there, but they were all turds.

I decided it was time to trash all the ones that couldn’t be saved (which was all of them).  Something about cats (big surprise), something about tweeting Alec Baldwin (it started out well but went horribly wrong), and other terrible gems that I never wanted to read again or risk anyone else reading were in my virtual storage bin of potential.  But when I attempted to delete them, WordPress told me that “there was an error moving them to the trash”.

I figured it was something or other to do with my wavering connection or my own general stupidity so I refreshed the page and attempted again to weed through the failures of my mind.  Again, WordPress denied me the right to purge my duds.

It must be a sign.  Yes.  It’s a sign from the WordPress Wizards that there is hope in these awful little leftovers.  Somehow, the server refuses to let me part with them for fear I’d be giving up the best post I will have written all year long.  One of them might even be viral gold.  Viral gold!  Once I have viral gold, I can do anything!

The problem is, I don’t know which one WordPress wants me to keep.  I mean, there are nine in there.  And on a scale of 1-10, they’re all zeroes.  So how am I supposed to tell which one is the winner?  How do I weed it from the rest?  Do they seriously expect me to expound on all of those subject and publish them? Because I won’t.  It would be blog suicide.

I guess I’ll just have to dwell on my nine half-written turds until one of them takes on a new and vibrant life that will spawn a large, deeply committed following.

I have heard your call, WordPress Wizards, and I shall not give up until I have dressed one of those pieces of trash into something acceptable. Thank you for your faith in me.

Or your server error.  …I’m going to choose to ignore that possibility. ♣

Tags: , , , , ,

The Best Diet Plan Ever

6 Nov

This plan replaces my former plan, which was staring at pictures of the morbidly obese.

I’ve found the best diet trick ever.

Really, like, the best.   I shouldn’t even tell you about it because it’s out-of-control effective and I could market it for millions and live off the money from your soon-to-be-skinny behinds for the rest of my life.

But you read my blog, and I believe that from time to time that should be rewarding for you in some way (speaking of which, yes, I’m still cooking macaroni and cheese from The Great Macaroni and Cheese Adventure; winner is to be announced after my belly is full of about 5 more pounds of pasta).  

I’ve been doing this thing called “watch absolutely disgusting food documentaries”.  For some strange reason I’ve become obsessed with learning more about the state of the food in our country and I’m allowing myself to be subjected to revealing, inside looks at the state of food made in a country based on capitalism, and let me tell ya: it’s totally gross.

Like, totally gross.

Anything that can make me put the cheeseburger I’m cooking as I watch the documentary back in the fridge when I’m done is a powerful potion indeed.

So it goes like this: just eat what you already eat, and do what you already do.  But every few days, sit down and give your undivided attention to a food documentary like Food, Inc. or Fast Food Nation or Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead.   Settle in and watch where your food comes from and it will stick with you when you reach for your next meal.  Or when you consider what you had earlier that day.

At least, it’s totally working for me.  Unintentionally, but I’ll take it.  I really was just curious to watch and learn but in the past two weeks, I am finding it incredibly difficult to eat things that I know are super gross now that their super grossness has been revealed to me.

I could probably package this into some sort of viewing plan that best suits itself to the slow, terrifying realization that your food is disgusting and killing you. It’s the perfect plan for America: you can do everything the same, except you have to watch movies.  I could market it so easily; people love weight loss plans that don’t require them to do anything.  Doing that and adding more movie-watching time has got to be an enormous stroke of genius that will have me stockpiling gold bars for my wit.

Or I hope so anyway; I only have about 60 more days for this blog to pay off and that’s not shaping up to be a solid retirement plan anytime soon. ♣

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Battling the Mess Monster

5 Nov

The Mess Monster.

Last night I went Monica Geller on my apartment.

I don’t know why, but I couldn’t. stop. cleaning.

I cleaned absolutely everything.  I went through junk drawers, cleaned out closets, scrubbed carpets, wiped down furniture; I was overtaken by a serious disease.  I started at 7pm and didn’t stop until after 1am.  I didn’t even want to clean. I just noticed the next dirty thing while I was working on cleaning something else.  Most of the evening was a blur but I faintly recall a long, yellow, rubber glove.

That means things got seriously, seriously, serious.

I can’t help but think that if I could only get to the root of what overtook me last night, I could replicate the experience in the future.  Perhaps I could extend it to something other than the house.  With that kind of overwhelming dedication to completion of a task, I could do anything.  I could build a tree house.  Or take up upholstery.  Or write a novel.

No, scrap that last one.  I’m writing enough this year.

I’m disappointed that I didn’t take a blood sample during the whirlwind.  I could have sent it to a lab for some tests.  Maybe it would reveal something in my system that led to this awesomeness and I could recreate it in the future.  Maybe I could even have it synthetically engineered and put it on the market for others.  Wouldn’t it be awesome if you spend 6 hours yesterday on something you haven’t wanted to do in a really long time but needed done?  I reorganized my pots and pans.  Do you have any idea how much time and frustration that will save me in the coming months?  Things had escalated to the point where I couldn’t even nudge the cabinet door the mess of metal inside would clamor about and fall out to the floor.  My carpet had a variety of mysterious spots on it that needed some thorough treatment. And the junk drawer that had too much junk in it for me to be able to locate the junk I actually needed? Fixed.  

I know you’re thinking about those areas of your place right now that need some hard love.  I know because yesterday, I was you.  And let me tell you, today feels glorious.  I might just dedicate the rest of my life to attempting to recreate the happening so that I can take blood, test it, synthetically recreate it, and sell it to you.

Listen, I have bills.

So tell me your dirty hiding places.  Really, I’m curious.  Where is the spot in your house that you need to seriously get a handle on but haven’t made the time?  I appear to have had many: junk drawers, closets…but the big winner was the pots and pans cabinet.

Tell me, dearest readers: where’s your mess monster hiding? ♣

Tags: , , , , ,

Rental Car Lust

4 Nov

I’m in lust with my rental car.

Like, bad.

For those of you just tuning in, 1) where have you been all my life? and 2) my major form of transportation was totaled not long ago, leaving me a fresh tutor of the public transportation system and a sad, sad girl.  

Apparently the insurance company decided to brighten our lives by giving Dave and I free use of a rental car for five days.  I don’t know why five.  I’m sure there’s some insurance algorithm to it.  Or maybe it’s just a monkey and a prize wheel; I don’t know.  All I know is I haven’t been this excited to be on four wheels in a long time.

To truly understand the complete and total lust I have for this vehicle, you have to understand that I haven’t had a car in my possession ever that’s been from the same decade as the current year.   Or hasn’t had a variety of dents and bangs and difficult personal problems to deal with.  I’ve spent a lot of time smooth-talking my cars and trying to encourage them to carry on with their lives in spite of their troubles. For the most part, I’ve just been thankful to have something that can get me from Point A to Point B, lack of air conditioning, power windows, power locks, a trunk, and two back doors aside.

Last night I sat in the car and blasted the air conditioning just so I could wriggle with excitement at its existence.  I played with the windows.  I admired the quiet, almost indistinguishable hum of the engine.  I bought groceries and when I got to the car, there was a trunk to put them in. Like, a nice sized trunk with a top that didn’t weigh fifty pounds and slam back down on my left arm if my strength failed while loading things inside with the right arm. As I pushed the grocery cart back into its stall, I lusted hard over that beautiful, working, nice-exteriored, unproblematic car like it was a high school crush.  And I have to give it back Monday.

That’s like giving me a puppy and then telling me to murder it.  I absolutely will not murder a puppy.

I’ve thought about a getaway plan.  I want to ride off into the sunset with this reliable, simplistic, capable car.   But they have my information on file and I can’t imagine I’ll get very far before I’m sent to a place that doesn’t require transportation beyond my own two feet back and forth from the mess hall.

I bought a five dollar lottery ticket when I was at the store because it had a  picture of the car on the front and promised to give away 10 to lucky winners.  I got caught up in the idea of a reliable car from the 2000’s.  I thought of how ridiculous it would be but was focusing more on how possible it was.  After all, that car has POWER WINDOWS.  The lotto ticket didn’t even have to offer a brand new car.  It could have just offered one from the last ten years and I would have peed myself if I got a car icon in and of the 12 scratch off squares.  But I scratched and scratched and nothing came but disappointment and the sinking realization that I am a complete and total moron.

I walked back to the car and admired its shiny exterior, its unworn tires, and its promise of reliable transportation and deeply regretted the 5 dollars I had just wasted on a scratch off ticket.

 I needed that money for the bus next week. ♣

Tags: , , , , ,

Hot Child in the City

3 Nov

Okay, here’s the thing: I’m repeatedly failing at posting on time.  Technically, I can post any time I want.  But as my regular sheep know, I aim for about 9am.  

But I haven’t actually pulled that off in quite some time.

Part of it is lack of sleep and a general inability to function on any level of intelligence. The other part is I have something like 60 posts to go and I’m having one of those lulls in inspiration.  As it turns out, after you post about 300 different things it becomes a bit overwhelming to imagine posting about 60-something others.

So in order to meet my posting requirement today but to avoid just writing a post about how I’m a failure, here is what I believe to be the third installment in “The Jackie Blog of the Past” posts.  This post, originally published in 2007, is from back when I had my old blog on a another server in a land far, far away.  As I browsed through the attic of my cranium of yore, I was amused by my current lack of personal transportation juxtaposed against this retelling of my frustration with it when I first moved to the city.  Enjoy.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Hot Child in the City

(Read: Stupid, Country Girl in the City)

I was given my dad’s old car this summer for my birthday. In part because my parents knew how hard it was for me to get decent groceries and transport them on the dirty, neglected child of Pittsburgh that is the transportation service. Mostly, however, it was because he got a convertible.

Convertibles and my family don’t go together well. I grew up most of my life wanting nothing more than to finally be able to afford both milk and cereal at the same time. Or something other than macaroni and macaroni for dinner. That being said, it blew my mind to be sitting in a car that was less than two decades old, running, quiet, and spacious. Oh, and a convertible. I actually felt awful and wanted to put a sign on the door that said “We can’t afford this!” in bright, orange crayon andmy own blood.

Regardless, my father is now somewhat more capable of completing his journey to fifty years old since he’ll be driving the depressing path to it in his nice car. And, luckily, I now have a grocery wagon with which to make frequent trips to Giant Eagle, a poorly named grocery store where they actually don’t sell any eagles at all.

Unfortunately, I’ve also become a bit of a taxi service. It’s not that people ask so much as it is that I offer…because I know how much I liked rides when I was a vagabond. Today, for instance, a good friend of mine mentioned he was headed downtown and wanted to know if I’d join him on a shuttle ride while he made some errands. I offered to drive him instead. Like an idiot.

So there I was, in rush hour traffic, driving around the city that’s impossible to navigate even when it’s 3 in the morning. I’m also too stubborn to pay for a parking garage….so basically I left at 4, drove around the city until 5:30, dropped him off and said goodbye. I got home at 6.

Some of this has to do with Pittsburgh’s impossible parking situation, and most of it has to do with the fact that I’m a bumbling idiot.

So these are my days in Pittsburgh. I’m either driving around downtown, wondering if I’ll wreck or find a parking place first, or I’m at home watching my housemate’s cat try to hump mine. TV altogether bores me at this point in my life. For some reason, when the decision to relax in front of the tube is juxtaposed with a good cat rape, I can’t stay focused on the TV.

Tonight, however, I get to change things up a bit and go to an audition downtown. Oh… well I guess the only part that’s different about that is the intention. I mean… I’ll still be driving around like an idiot again. My audition’s around 9. It’s 6:15.

I’d better leave now if I’m going to find parking. ♣

Tags: , , , ,

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started