the snow is the least of my problems

so i've been snowed in just like the rest of you, and i should probably have been blogging a whole lot. i bet my huge audience is wondering, where did this chick go? is she stuck under a christmas tree that then got snowed on and is she now frozen like a pine-tree-flavored-and-tinsled-popsicle?? oh, the horror! the horror!

well don't fret. i'm here. nice and toasty, and i do not taste like pine trees..i don't think.

i am not feeling so hot, though, thats for sure. skinny maybe, but not hot. i seem to have caught this stomach bug from my lady. i spent christmas on the toilet, coming out to a gift placed on the floor outside the door by my nephew..which i then thanked him for and he asked me if i celebrate christmas. i guess when you are five and living in a(n apparently very-)jewish town, you equate 12 days of diarrhea with not celebrating christmas. oh well.

12 days?! you ask. yes, my friends. from what i saw my girl go through before me, this lasts just about two weeks. so i've been holed up in my apartment since christmas, leaving only to trek through elbow-high snowdrifts to the pharmacy on the corner to make sure i was sufficiently stocked up with gatorade, broth, rice, crackers, and pedialyte. oh..and beer.

so, why still no blogging? it's not as if, as Reverend Pat Robertson might enjoy, God brought on this shitstorm to prevent me from doing "gay things"..right? if that's the case, that must be why chazzy has defied the laws of nature and somehow caught this literal pain in the ass bug, cuz i have been quite busy.

aside from heating up broth and chugging pedialyte, i haven't just been sitting here scared shitless (see what i did there?) of writing. i have been cleaning. i have been cleaning doggie diarrhea up from my apartment. i have been waking up at 4:30 a.m. to doggie cries, begging to go outside. i have been cleaning the trail of poo left in the elevators and hallways of my building after not getting charlie out in time. (actually, no i haven't..thanks baby:) i have been cleaning my dog after these explosive bouts have managed to splash off the beautiful, fresh snowfall and back up onto him. i have been cleaning the tub after bathing chazzy. i've been cleaning dog vomit up off the floor, off the carpet, and off my hands. i have been administering pepto bismal via medicine dropper into my dog's stinking, rotting mouth--pedialyte, too.

i've been busy.

today, charlie and i are trying to eat solid food. i took a pause somewhere up there in this post to boil some rice and chicken for him, and some pastina and chicken for myself. we both ate, and i don't know about him, but i'm feeling pretty good. only a slight stomach ache! he's seemingly in a food coma on the ground next to the coffee table, so i take that as a sign that the food did him good. we'll see tho. yesterday he puked almost six hours after eating.

so now i'm pouring myself some vino, kids. alcohol hasn't been bothering my stomach one bit. i know it isn't helping the dehydration factor, but what am i supposed to do? sit on my unemployed ass and soberly reflect on my day of poop, vomit, and cleaning?! no, thanks.



so, ya know? psssssh, you know..! so, no?


The snow falls upon the waterfront
At least, it tries to;
my neighborhood is far too windy to let any weather behave as it would
anywhere else I've ever lived before
But this place, this is mine, all mine!
So the wind, i take it; it is mine as well
It swirls the flurries I wish would fall flat, accumulate
But so my brain does in terms of ideas
This line, alone, will change before I get [t]here


when i grow up..

my girlfriend has come up with probably the most appealing next-step for me, in terms of my vocation:  a mini-pancake chef and tosser, located on her chest.  the only thing i need to do now is invent a shrinking machine, a la rick moranis in 'honey i shrunk the kids'


only i will purposely be shrinking people (or, just one person:  me) as opposed to accidentally creating a terribly dangerous situation in which i am at first thought to be missing, and then am potentially either squashed by my loved ones in their search for me around my apartment-turned-science-lab, or i am accidentally sniffed up one of the wildly accurate nostrils of chaz.

i'll then have to figure out the order in which to shrink my items (pancake mix, hot plate, extension cords, whisk, slingshot, etc.), prepare kc to shrink me and remind me how to arrange all my tools in my new workspace... and then i will have to go ahead with this all.

i'll need a schedule, to fit sleep into my day.  i'll need to be sure that the woman of my domain does not ever go hungry, though--considering this is my new job--so sleep can only occur for a few hours at night.  and then probably an hour or two here and there throughout the afternoon.  so after scheduling a little bit of sleep into my day, i'll need to devise a plan on how to deliver these delicious treats.

the problem, i notice.. is that my girl does not like syrup and so none of my sling-shotted pancakes will randomly and strategically stick to her face in the event that i miss her mouth.  hey, i will have to get some practice in with the sling-shot before my aim is spot on.

yes, so, there are a few details to be ironed out on this one. but hey, a girl can dream, can't she?


i'm not a chicken- u's a turkey

happy thanksgiving, you hookers.

look, things got deep there for a minute; things got dark.  and now, we move on to the point of this.. wait, what is the point anyway?  who knows.

i am supposed to be at a friend's show right now, and since i seem to have gotten a little too drunk/distracted/involved in some kind of pet smuggling, i'm sitting here wondering about some shit.  mostly, what's next?  what shall i do with my time, now that i don't live with a group of craycray dancepartiers (pic'ed above) or even within their 'hood?  guess being laid off means i just lay around and enjoy being "off" from required, daily, scheduled work..?  maybe those bitches will help me figure that out, or at least help me add some better content to this flog than what i'm currently spitting out of my stricken brain.  or, not.  all i know is that if anyone needs a shadow puppeteer, they should probably talk to me.  i make a mean wall bird--multiple kinds, too.

pea ehs. why is diamond rings so good that my kc is so sick of hearing his music she potentially wants to attempt her life on my second-story window-jump?  oh yes, she loves him, but she is really over my obsession, i think.  so now i guess i must get back to bringing this kitty to its home, cuz kc also loves rayray a whole lot more than sitting here listening to diamond rings and my keyboard..


there are always firsts.

life is full of them:  steps, words, jobs, kisses, stitches, and even breaths.

it is full of first successes and first failures, and it is full of the "first time for everything's," until, i presume, it isn't and we become bored.

i assume this boredom is only born of lack of some sort of courage.  i'm told there are many different ways to go from there, though i apparently only ever before thought of one or two until now, neither of which were remotely healthy-minded choices.  but ultimately there is no real difference if the end is the same:  intentional.

the other option i am now toying with is this:  the next "first" in the Life of Mine.

(art by jake dintino)

i'm alive because there was some tiny fucker of a warrior inside that said i had to do this, and i'd be fine.  if i did this, i would never bore my heart or soul, and there were going to be a whole lot more of firsts, which were going to need me to do them.  and so, i'm taking the plunge and writing.  no--i'm writing and sharing it.  yep, that's the plunge.  happening soon.