The provolone (or is the mozzarella?) is calling me. Can you hear it? The seductive whisper of "just a little taste, oh it will be so good." I must resist it's siren song. The left-over Chinese food is chiming in too, "c'mon, a little chicken & snow peas never hurt anyone." Yeah buddy, like I haven't heard that line before.
I'm having a another colonscopy tomorrow (just because I had so much fun the last time.) As I'm not allowed any solid foods today (hello jello!) I'm fucking starving. The stale pretzels on top of the refrigerator that I really should have thrown out weeks ago? Sound really really good to me right about now. And I have to drink that nasty shit that makes you shit. And when I say nasty I mean REALLY NASTY makes me want to puke instead of poop nasty. Admit it, you wish you were me don't you?
Pray for me.
UPDATE: I've been drinking this crap for 3 hours and am NOT pooping. Me, the one who poops non-stop is not pooping. WTF?
UPDATED UPDATE: Still NO poop. And I ate a cold wonton (ok,2 cold wontons. And they were fucking delicious).
UPDATE #3: I love Casey Blake.
MORE UPDATE: Can you believe this shit? Or should I say non-shit? For the past 10 months all I've done is shit my brains out and now? When I want to? Not so much.
Seriously, what happens if I don't go? Should I stop drinking the stuff?
ALSO: Shut up Rick Sutcliff.
A LITTLE BIT LATER: We have poop. Lots and lots of it. Be careful what you wish for.
The two most important things in life: good friends and a strong bullpen-Bob Lemon
Some of my favorite Yankee Stadium memories:
David Wells perfect game 1998 -- took the niece & nephew for Beanie Baby day and got a perfect game.
Yanks vs. Red Sox 1999 ALCS Game 2 -- Yanks win 3-2. My first playoff game and man, was it a nailbiter. Literally every pitch mattered.
Yanks vs. Braves 1999 World Series Game 3 -- Yankees down 5-1 in the 4th inning only to come back and win it with a walk off HR by Chad Curtis (his 2nd of the game).
Yanks vs. Mariners 2000 ALCS Game 6 -- David Justice hits a majestic 3 run HR into the right field seats to give the Yanks the lead. I've never felt the stadium shake like that before.
Yanks vs. Red Sox July 1, 2004 -- this is the Jeter "catch in the stands" game.
- Out of three women in my office I'm the only one who's NOT pregnant. Which? Thank g*d for me but now it's all baby all the time around here. Just hope it's not contagious. What was that you said? Oh yeah, right, I have to have sex in order for that to happen (at least accidentally).
- I'm thinking about "breaking up" with B. I really enjoy spending time with him but it also hurts me very much. Is this silly? I've tried this before, with obviously not too much success. In the words of the immortal Ray Davies "And now were back where we started,here we go round again."
- I see the Yanks also thought Kelly Stinnett sucked since they designated him for assignment (meaning they kicked his ass to the curb) and picked up Sal Fasano. Shawn Chacon deserved that win, coming in the the bases loaded, no one out & not giving up a run.
- I spent yesterday training someone and man, I was even boring myself and I generally love the sound of my own voice.
- Really? Is there a more perfect food than Reese's Peanut Butter Cups? Especially after they've been in the fridge for a couple of hours. Hmmm.
Change the gender and there you have it folks: what I want and for some unknown reason, I can't have.
Every night I hope and pray
A dream lover will come my way
A girl to hold in my arms
And know the magic of her charms
Because I want a girl to call my own
I wanna dream lover
So I don't have to dream alone
Dream lover where are you
With a love oh so true
And a hand that I can hold
To feel you near as I grow old
Because I want a girl to call my own
I wanna dream lover
So I don't have to dream alone
Someday I don't know how
I hope you'll hear my plea
Some-way I don't know how
She'll bring her love to me
Dream lover until then
I'll go to sleep and dream again
That's the only thing to do
Until all my lover's dreams come true
Because I want a girl to call my own
I wanna dream lover
So I don't have to dream alone
Dream lover until then
I'll go to sleep and dream again
That's the only thing to do
Until all my lover's dreams come true
Because I want a girl to call my own
I wanna dream lover
So I don't have to dream alone
Please don't make me dream alone
I beg you don't make me dream alone
No I don't want to dream alone
What's the definition of insanity? To keep doing the same thing time and time again and expecting a different result?
It's official! I'm insane. I mean, what the fuck am I doing to myself?
Saturday with B was soggy but fun. We watched some baseball, ate some hot dogs and b.s.'ed the day away. And then I went home alone. The funny thing is when we're together it's not like I'm sitting there thinking "why doesn't he want to be with me? (ok, maybe some times I think that)or get all spazzed out about it or whatever. But when I get home? All bets are off. A friend of mine, one who's spent some time with him, said maybe the problem is that we are too much alike. We do have so much in common -- I can't tell you how many times during the course of the day I said "oh my god, me too!" Maybe she's right. Who the hell knows? For as much as we talk that's the one thing I could never bring up. Gotta go bang my head against the wall now! Enjoy the show and don't forget to tell your friends.
Friday was Emma's 8th birthday
Saturday @ Shea
First we had this:
Then we had this:
And when I say we, I mean B. & me.
Not pictured:
Us enjoying some very refreshing vodka & lemondades @ Old Town after the game.
Sunday
I'll spare you pictures of me doing the laundry and changing the litter boxes.
My not-an-ipod has decided that today is Robert Clark Seger day. In honor the Motor City rocker I present you with one of the finest songs ever.
Beatiful Loser-Bob Seger
He wants to dream like a young man
With the wisdom of an old man.
He wants his home and security,
He wants to live like a sailor at sea.
Beautiful loser, where you gonna fall?
You realize you just can't have it all.
He's your oldest and your best friend,
If you need him, he'll be there again.
He's always willing to be second best,
A perfect lodger, a perfect guest.
Beautiful loser, read it on the wall
And realize, you just can't have it all.
you can't have it all, you can't have it all,
Oh, oh, ... can't have it all.
He'll never make any enemies,
He won't complain if he's caught in a freeze.
He'll always ask, he'll always say please.
Beautiful loser, never take it all
cause it's easier, faster when you fall,
You just don't need it all
Oh, oh, ... you just don't need it all.
"When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep, and you're never really awake-Fight Club"
I really need to get a good nights sleep. This bullshit of me waking up in the middle of the night has got to stop. I could deal with the waking up if I could fall right back asleep but that's not happening. I lay there, getting all worked up about not sleeping and all the bullshit of my life comes into my head and ugh.... I finally fall back asleep about 2 seconds before the alarm goes off. No amount of concealer can disguise the bags under my eyes. And the crankiness? Is being taken to new levels.
I've always been a bad sleeper, I have a hard time falling & staying asleep. I've been taking Ambien for a couple of years now, maybe I'm building up a tolerance to it? It's still putting me to sleep, I'm just not staying asleep. I can't help thinking a good fuck would really knock me out. Heh. Do you think I could get my dr. to prescribe that? "Listen B., can you do me? For medicinal purposes of course."
To: Kelly Stinnett
Why the hell do you suck so much Kelly Stinnett? What exactly have you done to earn your paycheck today Kelly Stinnett? You were supposed to have some "pop" in your bat, all I've seen is "fizzle." I'm not asking for 3 R HR's, just a timely hit every now and again. And I totally blame today's loss on you and your goddamn throwing error.
To the KC Royals:
I know you're a small market team and all but you are professional baseball players right? You do know how to hit the ball? How the hell do you lose consecutive 1-0 games? At least today you mustered more than 1 hit.
To All The People Who Have Searched For David Wright is Gay:
If I were a Met fan I wouldn't care if he was into elephants right now.
Moreland: I'm just a humble motherfucker with a big-ass dick.
Freamon: You give yourself too much credit.
Moreland: Okay then. I ain't that humble.
Season 3 of "The Wire" is coming out on DVD in a few weeks. In preparation for this blessed and much-anticipated event I'm re-watching the first two seasons and even on it's second go-round this show kicks some serious ass. I've seen many a cop show in my day and I can say with absolute positive certainty that this is one of the best. Almost as good as "Homicide". And knowing how deep my love for "Homicide" is, you know that's saying alot.
Hot diggity dog. It's like a freaking oven out there. Seriously. Forget about frying an egg on the sidewalk, you can roast a whole damn chicken just by walking down the street. I am wearing 3 articles of clothing (2 of them being my underwear) and it's still unbearable. Makes me glad that my office has a pretty non-existent dress code. Luckily my apt. is not in direct sunlight otherwise my kitties would be so screwed. I'm kinda paranoid (and cheap) about leaving the AC unit during the day when I'm not home. I left the fans (ceiling & floor) on so I think they'll be ok.
A few days late but a big shout-out to Mo Rivera on his 400th save. Last night (save 401) YES showed a clip (from 1996) of Mo's first save. I got a huge chuckle out of that, my god he looked like he was 12 years old. I realize how lucky I am, getting to watch a first ballot hall-of-famer play for my team. This isn't some player I will have just read about it, or just have seen on some old grainy clip, this is Mo. Enter Sandman. #42. Gotta go to Mo's. Can't wait for save #500.
ok, I know it's kind of hard to tell but that's Mo, take my word for it.
Who: Me (in the blue) & Liz (in the brown)
What: Hanging Out
Where: Orchard Beach
When: Summer of '80
Why: Why not?
It's so fucking hot. SO! FUCKING! HOT! How hot is it? So fucking hot that the only place you should be headed to this weekend is a pool or the beach. Sadly, I am headed to neither one of these destinations this weekend. Not having a pool to go to this summer is so freaking depressing. Not having a tan is even more depressing. Yeah, I tried the fake tanner route but you know what? It's not the real thing. I try telling myself "you're better off, being in the sun is so bad for you" but that doesn't cut it either.
The BF is having a bday party for her daughter this weekend & I'm totally blowing it off. (But I will see the kid next week). The thought of making all that small talk (AGH! KILL ME NOW) with all those people who I could care less about is just too much to deal with.
Which has nothing to do with the point of this post (point? there's supposed to be a point?) Talking to the BF last night, she was talking about meeting me in "the city" for drinks (I hate when people refer to it as "the city" -- it's downtown or Manhattan peoples) because her kids will be off at sleep away camp. Now we never do anything like that anymore because:
a. she has kids
b. lives in the boondocks of suburbia
c. she's a wimp.
I say wimp because she never goes out without her husband or without plans to meet her husband at some point in the evening. You know that type? And it really annoys the hell out of me. Why? It's not just one thing that I can put my finger on or articulate. Maybe I'm a little jealous. Maybe because I think every one should have a life separate from their spouse (I'm not talking about a secret- life type of thing, just something that's about them). Maybe I can't relate at all because I don't have a spouse. Maybe I should stop judging people?
What really got me was the machinations that she was willing to put herself through so that she be able to meet up with him. Hey, maybe if I was willing to do shit like that I'd have a spouse. Hmmm, we'll file that under "food for thought".
God this summer sucks.
Coincidentally? there is no sunshine in NYC today.
I won't comment on the All Commercial Game because I only watched the intro's and the first inning. Well, one comment. What is with the game starting so late? It didn't begin until after 8:30. How the hell are little kids supposed to watch the game? It's the same thing with the playoffs. Again, I understand why (FOX you money grubbing whores) but still. Start the games at 7 or 7:30 (FOX you greedy bastards).
What is the deal with me waking up in the middle of the night lately? I'll be sound asleep and then BOOM! Wide awake. And hot. Oh so hot. Despite having the AC, ceiling fan and another fan on. And it's not like I can fall right back to sleep. Oh no. That would be too simple. I have to lay there for an hour or two and catalog everything that's wrong with my life. Or go pee a hundred times. Of course I finally drift off 15 minutes before the alarm goes off. Fun times.
So this morning I'm all groggy and cranky from lack of sleep (that's today's excuse anyway) and this Joni Mitchell song comes on the not-an-ipod. Isn't it great how you can be feeling so bad and one song, one simple song, can totally make you feel better? Well, almost better anyway.
Amelia
I was driving across the burning desert
When I spotted six jet planes
Leaving six white vapor trails across the bleak terrain
It was the hexagram of the heavens
It was the strings of my guitar
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
The drone of flying engines
Is a song so wild and blue
It scrambles time and seasons if it gets thru to you
Then your life becomes a travelogue
Of picture-post-card-charms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
People will tell you where they've gone
They'll tell you where to go
But till you get there yourself you never really know
Where some have found their paradise
Others just come to harm
Oh Amelia, it was just a false alarm
I wish that he was here tonight
It's so hard to obey
His sad request of me to kindly stay away
So this is how I hide the hurt
As the road leads cursed and charmed
I tell Amelia, it was just a false alarm
A ghost of aviation
She was swallowed by the sky
Or by the sea, like me she had a dream to fly
Like icarus ascending
On beautiful foolish arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
Maybe I've never really loved
I guess that is the truth
I've spent my whole life in clouds at icy altitude
And looking down on everything
I crashed into his arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
I pulled into the cactus tree motel
To shower off the dust
And I slept on the strange pillows of my wanderlust
I dreamed of 747s
Over geometric farms
Dreams, amelia, dreams and false alarms
Despite my vows to boycott this years HR Derby I wound up watching it anyway. With the sound off because hearing Chris Berman say "back, back, back" a million times is just too much to bear. Wright was pretty impressive but holy fuck, did you see some of those shots that David Ortiz (big pap-smear) hit? Joking around with MM I said that they should have the pitcher wearing a Yankees uni and put some men on base and then he'll really crush the ball. Another suggestion (this one by G) is instead of this bullshit of having the winning team of the All Star Game (which I'm renaming the All-Commercial Game) determine who gets home field advantage in the World Series (stupidest, lamest idea ever), use the interleague records of the league's to determine that. Makes sense to me but of course it's really not about what makes sense, it's about ratings and revenue. Just like everything else. Sigh.
Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day hanging around the garbage room to tell me that I look fat. I hadn't noticed and appreciate your pointing it out to me.
Yours truly,
Lisa Ann
A warm July afternoon strolling along the boardwalk. An ocean breeze. The snap and sizzle of a Nathan's hot dog. 9 inninings of minor league baseball. The sweet coldness of Ralph's cherry ices. The perfect summer day.
Some people collect cat figurines or antique cars. I collect kids. Some are related, some aren't. But no matter how they've come to be mine I love them all and am so proud to be their Aunt Lisa.
Angela came into my life via Toni (who is my now deceased best friends daughter). Toni's step-mom is now married to Angela's dad. Got that? Anyway, Angela is lovely, talented and totally amazing. Did I mention talented? She now has an on-line gallery where you can admire (and buy) her absolutely ass-kicking work. Go on & look, you know you want to!
Angela's Gallery
As you can imagine, months and months of non-stopping pooping have left me with some (back) side effects. Like hemmoroids. This time last year I didn't even know what a hemoroid was, and how fucking incredibly painful they could be. And let me tell you... they are FUCKING PAINFUL. And nothing seems to bring relief. Sure, the over the counters help for about 2 seconds. And then? FUCKING PAINFUL YET AGAIN. But that's not really the point of this post. The point of this post is me trying to look on the bright side of things. And the bright side to hemmoroids? They have totally taken my mind off (not) getting laid. Because really? The thought of having someone touch me even remotely close to the hemmoroidal area? I can't begin to tell you have freaking unappealing that is. All I'd be thinking of (besides OUCH!) is DON'T TOUCH IT. GROSS. DON'T TOUCH IT. GROSS. Now if that's not looking on the bright side, I don't know what is.
Today
Am I the only person on this planet working today? OK, to call what I'm doing today working would be a bit of an exaggeration but you get my point. I'm so blowing this popstand early. TCTMPS be damned. It's funny, my rushing off. You might think I actually have something to do/someplace to go. Which is SO not the case. But still.
This Weekend
I won't bore you with the painful details, let's just say boring doesn't begin to cover it. I didn't leave the house on Sat. (involuntarily - poop related matters) and barely made it to the store on Sun. I re-watched the entire first season of The Wire (p.s. I love you Dominic West) and spent alot of time bemoaning my fate. And cursing the gods. And whoever else I could think of.
Friday Night
3 mojitos (can you say happy hour?), yummy gauc and some good girl talk.
