Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Friday, June 18, 2004
Made it to 200
Thanks to all y'all who've been digging the Dad vignettes; I'm sure he's tickled by the attention, even though he'd never admit it.

Dad was always pretty modest except when it came to his teaching accolades, and teaching at the college level fed into that jones for him really nicely. I'm pretty sure a lot of colleges do it, but we were supposed to fill out evaluation forms at the end of the semester on whether we dug the professor, and it never failed that Dad, who taught at my alma mater for 10 years would come home with 98 percent stellar evaluations and maybe 2 percent neutral ones; if there was a bad evaluation, I don't remember it. The first time he was ever evaluated, he brought the manila envelope home and whipped them all out, reading each one to Mother and me. You couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

Those good evalautions saved his ass, too, once. The first year he taught, I was the editor-in-chief of the college paper and hung out with my news editor, who was younger and at the time basically idolized me. (Now she hates me and bashes me to mutual acquaintances, which I really don't get, but whatever.) Well, she was always gazzed that, because I was technically considered "staff," I had a staff pass that allowed me to park in premium staff parking. So at one point, she'd sprained her ankle or something, and she asked me to get Dad's staff pass, and she'd pay for it if he would go get another one saying he lost his first one. And all was well until she got busted and admitted to one school cop who turned into a huge dick that she had it. He turned Dad in, and Dad had to go in front of the Arts & Sciences Dean to plead his case. Armed with his excellent evaluations, he went in there, and the Dean was impressed.

Oh, oh, oh, even more impressive? Every year, the school holds an essay contest in freshman composition, which is what Dad taught. In 1988, I won the Fall competition. In the 1998-99 school year? All the winners? Were Dad's students.
Posted by Broad1:51 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Thursday, June 17, 2004
Gyros, though tasty, might be out of the question, too
Now I'm thinking if your search for the perfect woman includes donkey punching and anal sex, you're going to want to know about her diet. Namely, is she big into curry?

-- My little friend Kate on one of her fiance's idiot friends, June 17, 2004
Posted by Broad12:25 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Took him out to the ballgame
Three years ago today, it was Father's Day, and Dad and I spent together what would be the last good time he would have.
Posted by Broad1:47 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
It’s name? is Pimp
Since everyone wants to see the new ride, and MT is still won't let me download photos, here's a link to them: Lookit.

If you have problems getting into it, lemeno, and I'll mail you the linky.

[UPDATE: That link won't let you get to them, so give me a holla and I'll e-mail the album to you.]
Posted by Broad9:07 PM • (0) Trackbacks
I’ll take a bottle of Pepto and glazed doughnut. To go.
I'm not sure if I mentioned this yet, but did I tell y'all that I bought a car? Yeah? Well, the reality of said purchase is sinking in, and anxiety sucks. I mean, I have a car payment again, for Chrissake. And my insurance went up by $100. And my excise tax I'm sure is going to suck, too. Oof. All this money thought is making me itch. At least the one story I wrote today that I freaked out about didn't suck as bad as I thought it would, compared with the competition's: I've already written about the high-speed rail coming to Northwest Indiana. There were some points I missed, but overall, I think I focused on the bigger part of the story, which is that lawmakers are slowly coming on board. Still, I hate stressing over my work, especially when I need it now more than ever. And if I haven't made it abundantly clear? Anxiety sucks.
Posted by Broad4:24 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Nerves sufficiently pinched
It's a big, sexy ... 2001 Mazda 626, yo. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know we thought it was going to be the Camry, but Mother and I took the 626 for a test drive, and not only was it pretty sweet, but it's just a better-looking car. It really does look like a Mercedes, so I'm feeling pretty damn hot, even if it IS stupid white and tan. I can't wait until Hooks downstairs sees it. Up your ass, Hooks! Heh.

Of course, I'm not even going to go into the nightmare that was getting the damn car, except to say that I'm 34 years-old, and MOTHER HAD TO CO-SIGN THE FREAKIN' LOAN -- whimper -- and that the sales associate, although incredibly hot and really very sweet, was DUMBER THAN CRAP, and what should've taken an hour-ish ended up taking FOUR HOURS TO GET DONE AND BRING THE CAR HOME FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. (bangs head on desk) And of course, Mother trying to tell him about Dad's death, because, you know, he cares and shit. Oh, and not to mention the fact that I gave up the Snowball, which is making me sad.

Speaking of Dad, their wedding anniversary is today; they would've been married 41 years. And to think he didn't kill her. But you know that episode of "ER" when Greene's mother breaks her leg and is diagnosed with dementia? I cried watching it last night, because the familial rapport between Greene and his parents? So, SO real and so, SO well acted. The awkwardness, the frustration, the secrets, the everything. Sure, Dad's and my relationship wasn't nearly as contentious as the two Greene men, but ... it gives me chills just thinking about it. Well done.
Posted by Broad4:59 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Saturday, June 12, 2004
Her damn powers of persuasion
In all my blather about the wonders of popular music this morning, I forgot to mention that I did some Kelley Blue Book research on the state of the Snowball last night, and ... if the insurance doesn't total it, it'll be a freakin' miracle. Value for my '95 Corolla with 150,10-something miles on it? $,1935. Cost to repair it? $1,750. Yeeeeeeeah, I'm guessing NOT. So, what'd I do today? Headed on over to CarMax, like I said I wasn't going to be persuaded by Mother to do.

And I think we may have found the new ride: A '99 Camry. Cruise control (not important to me, but whatever); 49-ishK miles; power windows and locks; no CD player (again, not super-important); and big, sexy room in it. Drawbacks? It's white with tan interior, and I really didn't want to get another white car. Also, tan? Eh. Not crazy about it. However, it rides like BUTTAH for a 4-banger, and I've always LOVED the Camry, so I wouldn't be disappointed with that ride.

I do, however, have three other choices -- a maroon 2001 Saturn L200 that I liked but didn't test drive, a white 2001 Mazda 626 that looks like a Mercedes, and a silver 2003 Mitusbishi Galant that has only 11K, but is about a grand more than I could drop-dead afford. They're all pretty sweet.
Posted by Broad7:59 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Alarming disregard
You know what sucks flaccid hamster weiner? A car alarm that goes off every time a large thunderbolt rolls through. Since were in the midst of a pretty good thunderstorm right now, that means it's averaging, oh, EVERY 30 SECONDS. Thanks, neighbor, whoever the fuck you are. It better not be Hooks, my slutty downstairs neighbor, because that'll just give me another reason to hate her.

Speaking of sluttiness and weiners, it occured to me as I was driving home from my assignment tonight: You know the AC/DC song "Hard as a Rock"? The dude's singing about his hard-on. All right, smartasses, I know -- "Well, what the hell did you THINK they were singing about!?!?" That's the point: I guess I DIDN'T think about it, or else I just never heard the song all the way through. Kinda like the one night when I was 27-ish, and my one best pal Laura and I were stopped at a gas station. "The Stroke" by Billy Squire came on. Here's a song I'd heard a million different times since I was 11, and while she was pumping gas, it hit me: "Holy shit! He's singing about politics!" So she gets back in the car and I tell her, and gives me that look like, "Ok, you didn't get that. Nice." You know, kind of like the one you're giving me now.

Think that's dorky? You should've seen me the first time I got Led Zeppelin's "The Lemon Song." I was 28.
Posted by Broad4:20 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Friday, June 11, 2004
Iss bad, you know
No smoking around Region Broad. Thank you for your co-operation.


That is all.

Actually, I really don't care one way or the other. I'm just lazy this week.

[horked from mikey]
Posted by Broad6:14 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Driving me to purchase
Damn Mother and her powers of suggestion: Ever since the great car wreck of last week, she's been pushing the idea of me getting a new used ride. Problem is, I don't think I can afford taking on a car payment right now, and really? My car still has a lot of life left in it, not to mention the fact that, although I don't LOVE it like I did Corolla #1, I'm still rather attached to the Snowball; it's still pretty good-looking, and there haven't been any awful repairs with which to deal yet. But ever since she said we'd work something out if I got a new ride, I can't help but thinking about the possibilities, even though I shouldn't. Bah.
Posted by Broad2:25 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Beth’s snarky …
and I enjoy that in a broad. Go read her missive to President Reagan: Lookit.
Posted by Broad3:10 PM • (0) Trackbacks
Comedy in the midst of chaos
It's times like this I wish I had a tape recorder, because then I could transcribe a la Sars the conversation I just had with Mer, my crazy friend in Brooklyn. From waiting for her psycho friend to move out of her crib to faking an orgasm, the comedy never stops.

She and I also agreed that the weekend she came out here was probably the most surreal event on the face of the planet; Dad died the night she arrived.
Posted by Broad2:53 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Even I have my limits
When you get halfway up the stairs, and a wang is wafting through the hallway even though the air conditioning is on? It's time to do a wholesale cleaning of the litterboxes. Wow.
Posted by Broad7:13 PM • (0) Trackbacks
The muse
I've mentioned it before, but I lived with my parents until I was 28, mostly because of Mother's out-of-control depression, but partly because my parents fell on really hard times after Dad left teaching, and I thought they needed me around. (There was only one of me, so it's not like I was THAT much of a drain on the household. At least, I'd like to think not.) One of the things they needed was my car; I drove a '90 Corolla (yeah, there's a pattern) and it was the only safe vehicle among the three of us. I was working in Chicago at the time, so Dad would drop me off at the South Shore Station in Hammond in the morning, and then we would alternate taking cabs home so he could use my car on the days he had teaching gigs. (He would leave my car at the station when it was his turn to cab it.)

On the days that I didn't have him rushing around like a maniac so I wouldn't miss my train, we of course would talk, and one time, he suggested he and I write a book together. He envisioned it as a coming-of-age story not unlike A Separate Peace or Death Be Not Proud, but involving the service and the Gulf War, or something like that. We never got around to it for whatever reason, but one thing was for sure, and that was he had much more faith in my writing ability than I did.
Posted by Broad2:38 AM • (0) Trackbacks
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
It. won’t. DIE.
Have you heard what those marketing bastards at Ford came up with now!?!? The "Focus and a Dell" commercial, only they 1) changed the co-pimp on it, and 2) rerecorded the jingle to sound more like "Hey Ya!" You know, because that'll make it LESS ANNOYING.

In the immortal words of Sideshow Bob as he shuddered each time he stepped on the rakes, "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeuuuuuuuuh."
Posted by Broad10:15 PM • (0) Trackbacks
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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!??:

Save the Net Now

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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].

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