Pocky Upon My House

Last weekend, I flew to New Hampshire for the second annual meeting of Pinky Tuscadero’s Assassins. There were reps from Kansas, Colorado, Minnesota and Massachusetts. We even had reps from the Netherlands and Nicaragua. Our power is that far-reaching. So, what do the members of the PTA do when they convene? We eat, drink and plot world domination. Last year’s meeting was all about caipirinhas and Cheetos. This year’s meeting was all about caipirinhas, martinis and chocolate Pocky. Actually, I like to call it The Pocky because it deserves reverence. I’d heard about The Pocky before but had never had it so when we invaded a grocery store after some time in an airport bar – it was clear that The Pocky would be mine. Let’s just say that I ate A LOT of Pocky. I am 75% Pocky and 25% human at this point. I’m like a Pocky Borg. I know this is true because I took the "What Kind of Pocky Are You?" quiz and the answer was Chocolate Pocky. No further evidence is needed.

At some point after the initial Pocky purchase, some PTA members went to the store for more provisions (i.e. The Pocky, Cheetos, Tacos at Midnight and Cachaça) and came back with Yan Yan. Yan Yan is kinda like The Pocky but the sticks of biscuity goodness are plain and come with a frosting dip on the side. We had strawberry Yan Yan and, well, it was gross. The frosting sat out in the open air for two days and never changed in consistency. Ingesting something like that seems like a bad idea – even peeps get stale if you leave them out. The Yan Yan sticks have little sayings on them which I did enjoy. The first one I pulled out of the container said, "Eat more carrots". The Yan Yan may taste like shit but it is wise, wise beyond measure. I ignored that sage advice, however, and did not eat a single carrot all weekend.

After two rounds of strep and another round of lice...wait...did I tell you that we had another round of lice? I don't think I did. Well, last Wednesday evening ( twelve hours before I was supposed to be at the airport to head to New Hampshire), Miguel said, "My head really itches." With those ominous words, the most frenzied pre-trip shenanigans began. By the time I arrived at Lake Winnipesaukee, I was an exhausted, fragile mess. But, the good thing about old friends is that they look after you. They remind you to take your suitcase with you when you leave the airport bar. They show concern when you get tangled in your own jacket in the handicap stall in public bathrooms. Hypothetically speaking, of course. They say nice things to you and give you chocolate from their stash if you cry. The best thing about old friends, though, is that they are not above shooting you in the face with a water gun when you are peacefully and innocently sitting on the couch drinking a caipirinha with The Pocky hanging out of your mouth. That is true love, people.

Now, I'm re-energized and ready to pick up the blogging pace. I'm sure my commitment to writing will last as long as my Pocky stash holds out.

p.s. I wrote a new post for Grace the Spot about World Cup Soccer - check it out.

Personal Space People

This tale begins at 9 p.m. last night when I decided that I would make myself an iced mocha. I know there are many of you gasping in horror at the thought of drinking coffee right before bed but caffeine just doesn't affect me.  Well, I didn't think it did. As I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, I had plenty of time to ponder my rather cavalier attitude towards caffeine. I pondered it at 11 p.m. I pondered it at 12:15 a.m. Then, I slept...until I woke up at 1 a.m. to ponder some more. So, yeah, I had a little trouble sleeping. I finally fell into a fitful sleep sometime after 1 a.m. and awoke at 5 a.m. to gun shots. I know that I was complaining on Twitter and Facebook last week about the birds outside my window but I didn't shoot them. Nor did I shoot my Crazy Gay Neighbor who has gotten an early start on The Crazy this year by 1) mowing our front yard while we were gone 2) disposing of the Christmas tree we were going to use for kindling 3) watering in such a way that we cannot enter or exit or home (front or back) without running through his sprinkler and 4) sneaking into our back yard to weed and slinking away without any explanation when confronted. I was not responsible for these gun shots and they were close...like on the next block close. I couldn't go back to sleep after that so I showered and made a pot of coffee. The bright spot of the day (sadly this bright spot occurred at 7 a.m.) was that I heard the kids wake up and say to each other, "Let's surprise mom by getting ready without her having to tell us to!" And they did. They came downstairs dressed with teeth and hair brushed. So sweet! I wanted to stay and revel in their sweetness but I left for work instead. Then, when I got to the parking lot, I realized I didn't have my parking card because I was driving Luisa's car. It's not that I didn't realize that I was driving Luisa's car. I did. How could I not notice? It's so nice and has the sexiest auxillary port which means I can listen to my iPod without static. No, I knew I was driving her car but forgot to take the card out of the other car. So, I pulled a ticket at the garage and headed to the elevator. I just missed an elevator so I pushed the button for another one and waited. Then, this big burly guy came in and pushed the button again and stared at me like I was an idiot. I wanted to say, "Do you think I'm just standing here wondering how these things work and assuming that I can summon an elevator through sheer will?! Huh? Do you?" At that very moment, the elevator arrived and I knew that he thought that he had made it come and I was irrationally furious. Fortunately, because of the immense intake of caffeine in recent hours, I forgot about my fury before I even got out of the elevator. So, I went over to talk to the parking attendant and she wasn't there. Her jacket was there. Her pen was there. Bonnie Raitt was playing on her little CD player but she wasn't there. For a brief moment, I was convinced that she had been abducted (see previous sentences regarding caffeine levels in my bloodstream) but there was no sign of struggle so I just stood there and waited. I waited for about 10 minutes and every person that got off the elevator stared at me and the automated payment machine kept saying, "Please pay here before returning to your vehicle." I was about to start talking back to it and telling it about forgetting my parking card and that I don't usually pay because I have a monthly contract but I was saved from myself by the return of the parking attendant who gave me a pass. I then headed into the Government Center, through security and to another elevator. There were a lot of people waiting so I went way down to the end to get an elevator that would be less crowded. The elevator arrived and I got on and then I was rushed by a gaggle of loud attorneys who kept backing up and backing up until I was forced into a corner. It was like I was invisible! There was about two inches between me and the attorney in front of me and I wanted to scream, "PERSONAL SPACE PEOPLE!" but was worried that they would think I was crazy and/or was claiming to have my own aliens like, "Oh you can't have these. These are my personal space people." What? It happens, especially in my line of work. So, I was suffocating and craned my neck to get a look at the buttons and nearly every floor was lit. It was a long ride. A very long ride. I finally made it to my desk and turned on the computer while taking a look at my new case. The line of the report that stood out was, "The house is filled with human waste." Lovely. Then, to top it all, my computer wouldn't allow me to access any of my files or open Microsoft Word. My friend Kristin then happened by and asked me out to coffee. Should I have had more coffee? Probably not. But, I went and got an espresso frappuccino anyway. Wow. Those are tasty little buggers. When I got back to my desk, I was motivated to get my work life under control! Computer be damned! This was going to be my day! I rebooted my computer and put on my iPod and...it didn't work! That's when I knew...today was simply out to get me.

Et Tu Diane Keaton?

Last night, I dreamed that I was visiting Diane Keaton and I told her that I needed a place to stay and asked if I could stay with her. She smiled and jumped around and flailed her arms and told me about this new thing that she got. I’m not sure if it was a table or a pair of shoes but she was super excited and I was a little afraid that she was going to smack me with an errant exaggerated gesture. I had to redirect her back to my question. Don’t you hate it when you have to redirect Diane Keaton? Anyway, I was like, “DIANE!” and then she smiled at me and was like, “Yeah?” and I asked her if I could stay with her and she didn’t actually answer the question. She went off on some other joyful tangent and I sighed and walked out. Then, I ran into my friend Anthony and asked him if I could stay with him. He said, “Well, I’m really trying to set boundaries with visitors. So, I’m sorry but I just can’t let you stay with me right now.” But, he was getting read to go to dinner and said I could tag along. So, we went to this restaurant and the table was set up so that it looked a little bit like The Last Supper except one guy was examining his toes and trying to get other people to look at his blister. So, I sat down to have dinner and I ordered a gin and tonic. When my drink came, I noticed that the lime was very ugly which kind of pissed me off. Aesthetics are apparently very important in my dream life and if you can’t get a good gin and tonic at the Last Supper then there is a problem. I then looked at Anthony’s drink and he too had an ugly lime gin and tonic and I was relieved because the whole ugly lime thing wasn’t personally directed at me. For some odd reason, though, I reached into his glass and squeezed his lime. He gave me a look like, “What the hell?!” and I shrugged and giggled. We sat there for what seemed like an eternity and there was no food which I found rather irritating because I really like to eat. At one point, some guy said, “Anthony, what nourishes you?” and Dream Anthony replied, “Life nourishes me. I need nothing more.” I nearly burst out laughing but everyone else was nodding knowingly and I sat there wondering how the hell I ended up having dinner with these people. Fortunately, I had the sense to leave. I went back into Diane Keaton’s building and sat in the lobby which overlooked a hill covered in dead grass and dotted with suburban homes that all looked the same and thought, “If I had this view, I would never be able to tear myself away.”  Oh Dream Vikki…you are an enigma.