How would you spend your last entire free day in the city you love? For my last “normal” day in Big D before moving to Austin, I’d planned to spend the afternoon running last minute moving errands around the city. I’d pictured driving along the familiar highways in the sunshine, listening to my ipod and soaking up Dallas flavor one more time.
Here’s what really happened:
I took my car in for a routine oil change and mentioned the small issue I’d been having with my starter. One hour later, I’d gotten an oil change, a new battery and the news that my starter needed replacing because it was draining the battery.
“But, but…” I stammered, “I have so much to do this afternoon.” Three minutes later, I was pulling out of the parking lot in a “loaner car” which was really one of the office guys’ personal BMW. (578th reason to wear short skirts and padded bras)
I’d just loaded up my car with 10 bags of material for recycling and one box for Goodwill when the rain started. After I was done at the outdoor recycling center, I was the soaking wet girl in the short skirt and padded bra trying to wipe down the interior of a random stranger’s luxury German car because I hadn’t been able to figure out how to open the trunk and had to stuff everything in the back seat. Upon arrival at Goodwill’s outdoor donation center, once again, I stepped out into the rain and asked the guy if he took old cell phones. His response? “Sure we do, you’re going to get totally wet!” YA THINK?
On the way to my last errand, as I cursed the pouring rain and bumper-to-bumper traffic, it took me twenty ipod-less minutes to realize that I was going East instead of West. I wasn’t actually surprised as this was only one of the many, many incidents resulting from my move-stress induced ditziness. After thirty more rainy, bumper-to-bumper, (and still ipod-less) minutes in the RIGHT direction, just as I reached the exit to my last stop ten minutes before they were going to close, I discovered the exit I needed to take was CLOSED.
So much for my halcyon daydream.
Oh, but there was one bright spot: At 4:50 just after the closed exit disaster, I realized that U-Haul was supposed to call me before 5 pm to confirm the next day’s truck pickup time and I still hadn’t heard from them. Just as I was mentally giving them the bird, my phone rang! And it was U-Haul! Yes, that’s right – my afternoon was made by the company with the big red and white trucks.
5/31/2007
All Dallas. All Princess.
People have been asking and wondering how my “All Dallas. All Princess.” birthday/going away/back to school party was this year. Was it anything like the bacchanalia of last year? I must say that the answer is no. I did not dance for 5 hours straight, but I did dance enough to generate the usual comments and looks of disbelief. I didn’t wear a tiara… I alternated between two tiara adorned cowboy hats. The boutique VIP (this year’s host) did not end up wearing the gay man’s tube socks, but she did end up with two hot dates for next month’s Pat Benettar concert. The newspaper was not delivered before the last guest went home. That’s not to say, however, that it wasn’t a WHOLE LOT of rockstar fun.
A fly on the wall that night would have overheard the following:
To another year and new adventures!
A fly on the wall that night would have overheard the following:
From the host of the party: No, NO! Ya’ll can NOT do that outside!!! I have neighbors – WITH KIDS!
From the self-described “all things sports ignorant gay man” upon hearing the tail end of a conversation about Carrie Underwood’s recent canoodling with Tony Romo: Oooh, that place serves excellent ribs!!
Said to Yours Truly: What IS it with you and music and dancing?
Said to the expecting couple: What do you mean decide on the paint color of the baby’s room before it’s born? That’s so unfair to the baby, man. Why don’t you let the BABY decide?
I CAN’T BELIEVE YOUR EYES AREN’T TOTALLY RED BY NOW!!
Why are you just standing there staring at Dirk’s crotch?
To another year and new adventures!
All Dallas. All Princess.: The Skyline Yours Truly CREATED HERSELF
Yes, I really did painstakingly envision, draw, cut and paste the whole thing by myself. Because I'm not crazy enough already.
The place to which vulnerability leads
Last week, I found out that a good friend of mine was viciously attacked last month as he was leaving one of his regular hangouts on what should have been an ordinary weeknight. When I say “good” friend, I mean “good” in every sense of the word. He is good at his work and he is a good athlete. He has a good attitude and personality. He leads every aspect of his life with genuine kindness. It seems that he was a victim of being vulnerable at the wrong place at the right time.
To imagine these people he’d never seen before physically attacking him makes my blood run cold. The fact that the cowardly bastards callously played with the life of MY FRIEND probably because of the color of his skin and his “pretty blond hair” (as catwoman so aptly described) makes me angry - the kind of angry that stays in the pit of your stomach for days.
But I was heartened to hear his usual upbeat voice on the phone, his sense of humor deliciously the same as ever. He still insisted on hearing the details of my life and my thoughts. All of this amidst still being at the mercy of the realities of his injuries. I’m sure that he’s angry too, but he’s not letting it destroy his goodness.
In the hours following, as I contemplated the cruel consequences of vulnerability, I considered something else he and I had discussed - not taking things in life for granted. Things like health. Like being blessed with opportunities and a future. Like being able to remember past experiences, even the painful ones. Like the people - those women and men who have positively affected our health, our pasts and our futures. Like my friend who could have been taken from my life in the blink of an eye. Any one of these people in my life could be taken away tomorrow. We are all vulnerable in this way. So I stopped thinking and started doing – started reaching out more to some of these people. And it made me feel good. Good and a little less angry.
To imagine these people he’d never seen before physically attacking him makes my blood run cold. The fact that the cowardly bastards callously played with the life of MY FRIEND probably because of the color of his skin and his “pretty blond hair” (as catwoman so aptly described) makes me angry - the kind of angry that stays in the pit of your stomach for days.
But I was heartened to hear his usual upbeat voice on the phone, his sense of humor deliciously the same as ever. He still insisted on hearing the details of my life and my thoughts. All of this amidst still being at the mercy of the realities of his injuries. I’m sure that he’s angry too, but he’s not letting it destroy his goodness.
In the hours following, as I contemplated the cruel consequences of vulnerability, I considered something else he and I had discussed - not taking things in life for granted. Things like health. Like being blessed with opportunities and a future. Like being able to remember past experiences, even the painful ones. Like the people - those women and men who have positively affected our health, our pasts and our futures. Like my friend who could have been taken from my life in the blink of an eye. Any one of these people in my life could be taken away tomorrow. We are all vulnerable in this way. So I stopped thinking and started doing – started reaching out more to some of these people. And it made me feel good. Good and a little less angry.
5/15/2007
Gem of the Day
This morning on The View, Barbara Walters brought in a Fiddler's Elbow towel that her daughter gave her for Mother's Day. Right beside the lovely art deco bride, it reads: Why Do I Have To Get Married? I Didn't Do Anything Wrong.
Why didn't I come up with that first?
Why didn't I come up with that first?
5/09/2007
Trading Down and Trading Up
I’ve been spoiled, living the last 6 years in my spacious 2-story apartment with an attached garage and curbside trash pick up.
Alas, my new digs will not have the luxuries of the garage or curbside pick up. Sigh. But it’s not bad. Same property owners (same tolerable management) and similar 2-story layout (albeit about a third smaller). There are even some improvements: it’s a brand new property and has a surprisingly spacious kitchen.
But maybe the best trade up is the color palette of the exterior. Not long after I moved into my current complex, management decided to give the exterior a fresh, new look. This new look turned out to be covering the massive group of 3 story buildings with a fresh shade of baby-shit brown. Did I mention that our buildings are built on the slant of a hill? Oh, how I've enjoyed coming home to what resembles a big pile of - well, you know. And ok, they did break it up with yellow (I’m pretty sure they thought it was cream) trim and black doors. Because of course they didn't want to include any colors which would fight with the BABY-SHIT BROWN.
So you can imagine my excitement to move to the new place which boasts a paint shade which I can only describe as green with an identity crisis - is it khaki green? army green? olive green? A mistake? (The fact that it is decidedly photo-shopped down to more of a neutral khaki in all of their promotional material makes me wonder.) So this whatever-the-hell-green is coupled with large sections of that hideous multi-colored river rock that Texans seem to love so much and topped off with cream trim and “Hey, let’s throw in just one more clashing color” kelly green window shutters and doors. That’s right, I consider it to be a trade UP.
That is how much I hate baby-shit brown.
Alas, my new digs will not have the luxuries of the garage or curbside pick up. Sigh. But it’s not bad. Same property owners (same tolerable management) and similar 2-story layout (albeit about a third smaller). There are even some improvements: it’s a brand new property and has a surprisingly spacious kitchen.
But maybe the best trade up is the color palette of the exterior. Not long after I moved into my current complex, management decided to give the exterior a fresh, new look. This new look turned out to be covering the massive group of 3 story buildings with a fresh shade of baby-shit brown. Did I mention that our buildings are built on the slant of a hill? Oh, how I've enjoyed coming home to what resembles a big pile of - well, you know. And ok, they did break it up with yellow (I’m pretty sure they thought it was cream) trim and black doors. Because of course they didn't want to include any colors which would fight with the BABY-SHIT BROWN.
So you can imagine my excitement to move to the new place which boasts a paint shade which I can only describe as green with an identity crisis - is it khaki green? army green? olive green? A mistake? (The fact that it is decidedly photo-shopped down to more of a neutral khaki in all of their promotional material makes me wonder.) So this whatever-the-hell-green is coupled with large sections of that hideous multi-colored river rock that Texans seem to love so much and topped off with cream trim and “Hey, let’s throw in just one more clashing color” kelly green window shutters and doors. That’s right, I consider it to be a trade UP.
That is how much I hate baby-shit brown.
5/08/2007
One More for the Fire
I need to add to my list of gym enigmas: the smelly people.
Admittedly, none of us smell like roses at the gym – we are there to sweat after all. But if you notice that the people on the machines around you are suddenly stopping their workout, burying their noses in their towels and moving across the room, maybe you should change your socks, take a shower, and wear deodorant. And for the LOVE OF PETE, SMELL YOURSELF!!!
Admittedly, none of us smell like roses at the gym – we are there to sweat after all. But if you notice that the people on the machines around you are suddenly stopping their workout, burying their noses in their towels and moving across the room, maybe you should change your socks, take a shower, and wear deodorant. And for the LOVE OF PETE, SMELL YOURSELF!!!
5/07/2007
I think I heard my skin crawling this morning
Why is it that in those first moments of early morning wake, my ideas are never quite as brilliant and fresh as I think they are at the time? It is usually during my workout an hour or so later, when the glaring stupidity of those very ideas comes into focus, suddenly making me cringe and wonder what the hell I was thinking.
A couple of weeks ago for example, I came up with a totally kick-ass theme for my birthday party and had worked out a plethora of ideas for the décor and the invitation…all before getting out of bed. Needless to say, that particular theme (and the cockamamie ideas that went with it) was immediately nixed on the elliptical trainer later that morning.
This morning? I switched on the radio when I first woke up and the first thing I heard was the news of Paris Hilton’s imminent prison term starting on June 5th. June 5th? I perked up as this is a date I’ve been thinking of a lot recently - it being none other than THE FIRST DAY OF CLASS. And then I hear that Paris will be in there for 45 days. 45 days? That’s about 6 weeks…which is the length of the first summer term.
OMG, I thought in a moment of girls-subjected-to-captivity solidarity, if Paris can get through it, SO CAN I!
Then at the gym: Wait a minute. Solidarity? With Paris Hil-
Which is when the skin began its crawl.
A couple of weeks ago for example, I came up with a totally kick-ass theme for my birthday party and had worked out a plethora of ideas for the décor and the invitation…all before getting out of bed. Needless to say, that particular theme (and the cockamamie ideas that went with it) was immediately nixed on the elliptical trainer later that morning.
This morning? I switched on the radio when I first woke up and the first thing I heard was the news of Paris Hilton’s imminent prison term starting on June 5th. June 5th? I perked up as this is a date I’ve been thinking of a lot recently - it being none other than THE FIRST DAY OF CLASS. And then I hear that Paris will be in there for 45 days. 45 days? That’s about 6 weeks…which is the length of the first summer term.
OMG, I thought in a moment of girls-subjected-to-captivity solidarity, if Paris can get through it, SO CAN I!
Then at the gym: Wait a minute. Solidarity? With Paris Hil-
Which is when the skin began its crawl.
5/02/2007
WHO HAS HEART???
ROWDY.
PROUD.
LOUD!!
Shame, shame, shame on the fans who lost heart and left early last night.
PROUD.
LOUD!!
Shame, shame, shame on the fans who lost heart and left early last night.
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