Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death

Region-y goodness

Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Hairy sitch
You know how when you accidentally let your hair air dry a little too long before hitting it with the goo, and then you got shit sticking out where it shouldn't be and things laying flat where they shouldn't be? Yeah, I got some gay-ass hair going on right now, and I don't mean that in the positive way. Thank God for the hair party this weekend, because this ain't right. I'm thinking about changing the color to dark red with black lowlights. I've seen it done before and it looks cool, and it would work with my specs. Plus, I feel like giving myself a jolt, not unlike the time three years ago when I was chest-deep in depression and had him put highlights in my hair, only he did so many that I was for all intents and purposes blonde. Didn't lift the depression any, but it did smack me out of complete listlessness. No no no, I'm not listless now or anything; just need to shake the shit up like I do from time to time.

Greta, in the meantime, is in the throes of the major blues since she did end up losing her job after all. Except now, she's also decided that because of this book she's been reading about how 99.999 percent of all medicine is of the devil, she's gotten off her antidepressant and plans to start taking St. John's Wort when she finds the right herbalist -- none of that over-the-counter Walgreen's stuff for her, no sir. Did I mention she's OCD, too? It'll be nothing if not entertaining, for sure.

(Now, before anyone gets all hyper that I'm mocking someone for eschewing modern medicine, I can appreciate that someone would want to cut out certain crap from her diet or certain medications from the rotation, especially if they interfere with other things (i.e. taking a med for which the side effects include depression when you're already depressed, etc.). I'm thrilled that, for example, Greta got rid of the Zyrtec and Flonase for her sinuses and is using this oil stuff instead, with much better results. But unlike those goofy Scientologists -- yeah, I said it -- depression is not one of those things that can be willed away with positive thinking, and I don't believe that any good will come of this experiment. If I'm wrong, I'll cop to it, but I don't think I will be.)

In other news, part of my weekend was spent contemplating my place in the future -- specifically, am I going to end up one of those lonely old ladies who no one visits in the nursing home. Yeah, I know, morbid. It started Saturday night after Jill came over with Chinese: We were talking about how I, during another tangent, came to the conclusion that it really doesn't bother me that I'm not out most Friday or Saturday evenings with an SO, that I'm perfectly happy hanging out on the couch with the boys or hanging out with Greta or whatever. I mean sometimes, sure, it gets a little bothersome, but not so much so that I'm crying over Chunky Monkey or some shit.

So anyway, Sunday I just started thinking about what's going to happen to me since I'm not married and don't plan on birthing any babies, and then I was like, "Wow, this sucks," so I went to sleep.
Posted by Broad1:18 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Saturday, January 08, 2005
I am the super fantastic girl, even if I am poor!
As if y'all needed the confirmation, but we have it, because I sent Manolo a shot of me in my Manolos, and he wrote back and said I am the super fantastic girl! Take THAT, fuckin' Paris Hilton.

So Greta and I, speaking of the super fantastic, were downtown today for one of her foloup Lasik appointments when we drove up to Oak Street, the part of Chicago's Mag Mile where the Prada, Louis, Gucci, Tod's, etc. is. We went there because EWK had given me a well-loved, well-worn black leather swing coat with blonde fox fur collar as a Christmas gift, and I want to sell it to a resale shop, so thinking the fur factor would kick up the value a notch, I picked the swankiest one I could find.

Yeah, no such luck; not only is there not a call for black leather swing coats with fur collars yet, but this one's beat down, and the woman wouldn't be interested in it, anyway. I guess a resale shop in NWI it will be, after all.

However, we did pop into the wonder drugstore of the universe, Bravco, where I purchased myself this for $18.99, and by God, I think we have a wax that will finally keep my hair textured without looking all gummy. Huzzah! And I totally want to go back to Oak Street, if not to just figure out new things I want to start hunting for on eBay when I stop being quite as poor as I am right now.
Posted by Broad6:26 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Saturday, December 18, 2004
You’ll burn your eye out
Remind me to never, NEVER go out to eat with Greta, her sister and niece again unless its a restaurant that we all like, because Christ on a cracker! I've never seen two more whiny people in my life! I mean, yeah, Don Pablo's isn't real Mexican food, but can't you just enjoy it for what it is!?!? And then Greta's niece ... (shudders). Greta's sister just found out she's pregnant, so already the little twerp is clinging and being even more annoying than she already is. The whining and the not listening -- Goddamn. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: It takes a special person to be a parent, and I'm not one. Who needs kids when you have cats, anyways?

Oh, and I get to be up at the buttcrack tomorrow to take Greta into the city for her Lasik surgery. At least it's close to Nordstrom, so I can go masturbate in its shoe department. (Just kidding. Sort of.)
Posted by Broad2:18 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Friday, December 10, 2004
Hot piss
Nothing like going to the doctor for a UTI and finding out that you've gained six pounds in a year. Even though that's supposedly about average, it's not when you've gained as much as I have since I left Chicago. Drat.
Posted by Broad8:13 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Days off are nice
Be back tomorrow with tales about my first trip to a strip club.
Posted by Broad3:08 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Monday, December 06, 2004
House won’t be a home
Looks like my any apprehension I had about getting a new crib may have been answered Saturday night: I found out that John, Jill's fiance, still has a mortgage on the house, which wouldn't be bad iff'n Miller didn't get butt-raped in the great property tax fiasco of 2004 (tm). I don't know what his taxes are, but I did hear him tell someone we were talking to that one of the reasons he and Jill are moving is because he was insulted by the taxes. (History: This year, because of a long history of lawsuits by big industry and this dude that I'm surprised hasn't been killed in a drive-by yet, the state of Indiana decided that Lake County should be assessed by an independent firm, because it was the only county not using a fair-market formula. When that happened, many homeowners' property taxes more than doubled and, in many cases in Miller, went from like $6,000 to $22,000 -- kind of like going from 0-60 in 30 seconds without a crash helmet.) So, unless his mortgage is, like, $200 a month, I can't imagine him renting it to me for anything less than $700 or $800 to cover the tax bill, and I can't afford it. Again, things could change between now and a year, but I'm not going to hold my breath. Of course, I found out all this after Jill and I decided that I would paint the kitchen apple green to stand out with the white cabinetry and appliances. Crap.

Meanwhile, the one guy made an appearance Friday night/Saturday morning, drunk and all fired up about something or other. (He was also exhausted, because he'd been up since he got off work at some ungodly hour.) One thing he talked about was going after the "insurmountable challenge," because even if it doesn't work out -- and it very rarely, if ever, does -- the one time that it does will be worth it. Mm-hmmm. Make of that what you will; I've already drawn my own conslusions. Anyway, Saturday I spent the afternoon with Jill at Customs, and then we went to a Christmas carole sing-along at the Gallery, where much wine and even some tequila (heh -- it was Patron, which is smoooooooove) was consumed. I begged off early, though, because I was tired.

Today was spent taking Mother to the mall, which didn't suck nearly as bad as it could've. She bought her Christmas present (for which I'll give her money when I get paid Thursday): a short, pink leather jacket, which I'm sure I'll have to borrow for dress-up.
Posted by Broad12:36 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
On the dl
The meeting with the administrator went much better than I anticipated, but because he went off the record, I can't talk about it other than to say my suspicions were correct.

Meanwhile, I need to get dressed so I can get to Richard's funeral service for a little bit before I have to play journalist. Went to the wake last night; I kept expecting him to look up from the coffin, he looked so not-dead.
Posted by Broad2:21 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
So much for honesty and public officials
Before I launch into my latest work-related tirade that I can actually talk about, take a gander over at my blogroll: You'll notice that an old favorite of mine, "It's Funny Because It's Shit," had been put back onto the lineup. That's because its author, the always-excellent, always Scottish PeeBee Curtis, is done with his vay-cay and has decided the world just hasn't heard enough about why he would never properly execute a cumshot. And do you know how I know this (that he's blogging again, not his feelings about cumshots, although I know that now, too)? Because he has me on his Kinja favorites list. For me, that's huge, because I'm a yooge fan of PeeBee's.

And now, the drama: Tomorrow morning at 10 a.m., I'll be sitting in a rather high-on-the-totem-pole school official's office listening to him backpedal on what he said for my big story from last week. In my three years of free-lancing, I've never had this happen, so this ought to be a treat. My guess? He had his ass handed to him by certain parties that I'm loathe to mention by name.

Story below:
Posted by Broad3:43 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Couldn’t say it better myself
More on Richard Grey, this from Post-Trib columnist Jim Gordon. It was in today's paper.
Posted by Broad3:01 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Friday, November 26, 2004
Funeral for a friend, pt. 2
Received word today that one of my editors, the venerable Richard Grey, died in his sleep last night. He'd had a heart attack a couple weeks ago and then got some sort of infection in his heart and lungs, but he was on the mend and was going to be released for the holiday. The last time I talked to him was about a week ago, when I called just to see how he was doing. He was still in ICU, and we weren't on the phone for longer than a minute, because I didn't want to inundate him with all the usual questions about "What happened? How do you feel?" and whatnot. I just told him that I wouldn't bore him with all that, but that I hoped he was feeling better.

Below is a poem our mutual pal Izakar kept of his from many years ago. It's but a mere glance into his genius.
Posted by Broad8:59 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Well, life WAS going good …
On the one I beat I cover regularly, I came in at a time when the school board was changing. Because of its efforts, the Indiana State Board of Accounts handed down a special audit that mandated its former administrators pay back the school corp. a few grand for inappropriate spending (i.e. using school credit cards for personal purchases, claiming personal time as school time -- you know, just like Enron and shit). Well, another school system in NWI has decided to hire one of the former administrators, and I scooped the story up here -- with all the warts that I'm sure she wanted to go unnoticed. And not only that, but now? The paper of record in the town she's going to is REQUESTING COPIES OF THE AUDIT, preparing to find out if it's all true, which it is. Wheeee!

Of course, in the story I wrote about the ball Saturday night, I screwed up where the award that OUR PUBLISHER WON originated, and I feel like a big ass.
Posted by Broad3:04 PM • (0) Trackbacks
And then? There were two
Does anybody know anything about this guy? Because our friend The Snidge completely missed our evening out tonight without calling or e-mailing, and that means one of two things: Either the two of them were, um, INDISPOSED (cough), which is forgiveable; or the guy's an axe murderer, which is NOT. Any help in this matter would be appreciated.

Oh, and she? Is the cutest thing in the world. Go encourage her to write more. And be sure to pray for Kaffy's warm, mucous-filled corpse that she no doubt turned into this afternoon after I got off the phone with her. Great googly moogly, she was miserable.
Posted by Broad2:35 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Monday, November 15, 2004
Here she comes …
My assignment tonight? Covering the Miss Indiana USA pageant at the Radisson. Here's what I want to know: If Miss USA is all about diversity, how come everything reeked of downhome, Christian values and country music and all that, and does The Donald know about this? I mean, I'm not expecting anyone to play "Gett Off" by Prince or stripper music or anything, but this is NWI, not French Lick, and it made me a little ill seeing contestants of color having to shoehorn themsleves into this Southern pageant stereotype. And of course it seemed to be much worse this year than the previous two years I covered the event. Fuckin' Shrub. All I'm saying is, you can make something whitebread while catering to every denominator.

Meanwhile, it was a good weekend up in here. Visited Jill at Customs Saturday and ended up going with her fiance and her to a couple of gallery showings, one by this really talented young artist (from Hobart, even) on whom I could easily have a crush and another by this dude who does a lot with primary colors. But more important? Shiraz, shiraz, shiraz, babies. And it was FREE shiraz, so even better. So after three Lites on top of many glasses of Shiraz and two or three glasses of chardonnay back at Customs, Jill and John decided it would probably be best for me to crash at their crib, which Jill wants me to buy when they move in a year or two. It's a great crib, too -- big enough for me and the boys, and it's in Miller, which I've been dying to move to since forever. So of course now, all I can think of is color schemes.
Posted by Broad3:48 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Saturday, November 06, 2004
Murder most foul
Good stuff going on over at Y's crib: The debate started as the Liberal/Conservative issue but has now turned into a discussion about partial birth abortion. Go there if you want some thought-provoking education.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, a 35-week pregnant mother was found bludgeoned in her home this morning -- eight houses away from Greta's crib. Naturally, it's been ruled a homicide, but it doesn't seem to be indicative of a serial killer or anything. Funny thing was, the house isn't cordoned off with police tape, and the only way we found out that was the house was when Telemundo (the Spanish-speaking station) was in front of it when we were coming back from dinner.
Posted by Broad3:25 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Want some candy …?
If you once again gaze over to the left there, you'll see a button (created by the lovely Zoot, btw) leading to the World's Finest Homemade English Toffee. Well, my aunt and uncle make that toffee -- by hand, even, with genuine. butter. -- and I've made it my duty to pimp them out. For real, it's damn good stuff, so I encourage y'all to go over there and buy it early and often.
Posted by Broad11:08 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Page 23 of 25 pages « First  <  21 22 23 24 25 >
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.

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