Yeah, baby, YEAH!

So there I was, perusing my various online news sources this morning, hunting for an interview-worthy subject, when I hit upon the above item on Google news.

Take a closer look. Do you see how they chose to illustrate the story, about the link between genetics and sexual desire?

Does he make you horny?

I want to meet the editor who made that choice and buy him or her a drink. THAT's good stuff.

NOTE: I did NOT make this up! Miss Cheese is my witness.

So maybe I was wrong...

...and I don't dislike opera after all.

I haven't seen much opera, but what I have seen didn't thrill me.

I'm not sure you can call Baz Luhrmann's staging of "La Boheme" TRULY opera, since there was a bit of Hollywood and Broadway mixed in, but it didn't move me. Some of the performers were really great, and the sets were incredible... but the leads? Blah. They didn't move me. The most interesting thing for me was seeing exactly what inspired Jonathan Larson when he created "Rent."

Then, last fall, there was this. Oy.

So it was with much trepidation that I ventured out last night to take in the first-ever outdoor simulcast of a San Francisco Opera production -- they set up a huge screen in Civic Center plaza, near the Opera House, for the opening night of "Madama Butterfly." And despite the fact that it was freezing cold, I really enjoyed it. As the guy seated next to me said, "Everything sounds better in Italian."

Sure, I was bored in parts...but the second act was particularly riveting and moving. Patricia Racette, who was Butterfly, was astounding. As was Zheng Cao, as Butterfly's maid, Suzuki.

It didn't hurt that I got to sit in the special media area and had a great view of the screen. Not to mention, wine. And the backdrop -- our spectacular City Hall -- wasn't bad either.

After the performance, the leads were all brought over to the park to take a bow and they seemed completely stunned by the size of the crowd, which was easily a few thousand.

Just another reason to love this city.

It's a pretty good day...

The sun is shining.

I took a sleeping pill and spent the better part of eleven hours asleep.

It's noon, and I'm still in my PJs.

I'm drinking the best cup of coffee I've ever made.

I have no firm plans for the weekend, but all sorts of possibilities.

And I don't have to be back at work until Tuesday.

Ahhhhhhhhhh.

TFFW...

...or, too funny for words.

A friend of mine e-mailed me today to tell me that a couple of young musicians I met the other day as they dropped off some materials for an upcoming interview thought I was, and I quote here, "the bomb."

That's the funniest goddamned thing I've heard all week. (And you shoulda seen these guys. They're so young and fresh and enthusiastic and cute, it almost hurts.)
Of course, they happen to know that this friend of mine IS a friend of mine, so naturally they'd say something nice. Still. I got a good laugh out of it.

Hey, isn't it great when the way you think about a subject that has long vexed you changes? Something that you've gone around and around with in your brain and in your heart countless times? (No, I'm not talking about that thing I was being cryptic about in my last post. It's something else to be cryptic about.) Then something happens, and you feel a shift in your brain, and everything suddenly looks different?

It's so freeing.

It's like I've freed up space on my hard drive for new material.

Bring it on, world.

(Oh, and about that other thing? More hoops to jump through. *Sigh.)

Tom Petty was right...

The waiting really IS the hardest part. (And I don't even like Tom Petty...)

But this horoscope gives me hope:

While you have your doubts about your abilities, a certain someone has none at all. Let their confidence bolster you. And it certainly wouldn't hurt to make like the Little Engine That Could. Start chanting, 'I know I can.'

Yes, I know I'm being cryptic. I will explain as soon as I have some news.

Instead, I will meander from point to point...

Hey, what's the point of going to bed at a decent hour when you end up tossing and turning for the better part of two hours? Cripes. I did everything right yesterday, too. I worked out. I had a light dinner. I was ready for some sleep. At least I stayed asleep, once I finally reached the land of nod. I should be grateful for that.

Apparently, my cocktail shaker is trying to save me from myself. I made myself a cosmo last night, to have with dinner. Really... just ONE. (And as you know now, that means two to normal people, with small cocktail glasses.) But I couldn't get the lid of the damned shaker off, after the shaking! Nothing I did -- and I tried everything -- would allow me to get the tasty beverage out! So I threw the whole thing in the freezer in frustration, and will see if I can make any progress tonight, which is laundry night.
I'll need a drink after that. And possibly, a new shaker...

Didn't I tell you this would happen, after seeing the pre-Broadway version here?

NEW YORK (AP) - They're driving a stake through the heart of ``Lestat.''
The $10 million Elton John-Bernie Taupin musical inspired by Anne Rice's ``The Vampire Chronicles'' will close Sunday after a disappointing run of 39 performances.
The show opened April 25 to negative reviews and has seen its box-office grosses steadily sink since then.

Why is this week taking so long? I thought yesterday was Wednesday. That's never a good sign.

The lazy weekend...

I did nothing this weekend.

I'm serious.

I did not clean house, even though I desperately need to.

I did not chemically alter the color of my hideously gray roots, even though I desperately need to.

I did not get out for that walk Saturday, even though I desperately needed to.

Okay, I did take care of some hand-washables. But that's it.

Part of the problem is that most of my fun activities take place during the week, so by the time the weekend rolls around, it's hard not to be slothful, unless I have something specific planned.

Honestly, how does the weekend go by so quickly when you're on the couch, doing nothing more than watching the last six episodes of "The Amazing Race" on On Demand?

On Demand, by the way, is the greatest thing EVER.
But I was a bit annoyed when I realized I had to pay 99-cents per episode, to watch "TAR."
Then I figured, what the hell... I want to see the show, and it's cool to get it without commercials.
Except it's not commercial-free. There weren't as many as there would be on the telecast, and most of them were promos for CBS shows, but I was incensed when I saw any at all. The same way I feel incensed when I'm forced to watch commercials at the movies, after paying ten bucks to get in.

NOT COOL, Comcast...(or CBS, whichever of you is responsible for that).

Hey, should I have a birthday party for myself this year? I'm turning 42. How boring. And the big day is a Sunday. Also boring. And inconvenient for people who aren't off the following day...

PMS + Cocktails = a dangerous combination...

I've been ravenous for DAYS now. No matter what I've eaten, I've been absolutely starving less than an hour later.
Since there was no logic to that, I took a closer look at my calendar and realized... yep! It's hormonal.

And I was doing a pretty good job of not submitting to the beast. There was some extra chocolate in the mix, but in small amounts.

But then I made some cocktails for myself last night.

Here's the thing: my martini glasses are larger than those you find in most bars. In fact, the ones in most bars are teeny (tini?), compared to mine.
And it's not like I set out to buy jumbo martini glasses; I liked the colors, I liked the designs, and dammit, some of them were GIFTS!

At any rate, my glasses hold two cocktails each. So when I decide to make two Terry-sized cosmos, I have to quadruple the recipe. HAVE to.

Okay, so I get home from work yesterday, and decide to have a little snack before my manicure. I had some of these TJ soy chips. Not bad.

Oh. Then I had a handful of those pralines I bought from TJs the other day when they were out of my favorite peanut butter cups (People, they're better than REESE'S. No joke.).

Yeah, then I had a handful of said PB cups. The ones I bought on a previous shopping trip. They're smaller than Reese's, so a handful isn't THAT bad. Right?

Then, while my nails were drying, I ordered that noodle dish I love so much from the Burmese place that's conveniently next door to my nail salon.

Of course, I inhaled the whole thing. I usually have leftovers, but whatever. And my cosmos went really well with it.

Now, I figure, I'm done. I've had MORE than enough to eat, and have another cosmo to finish and I'm feeling full.

A couple of hours later, around 11 p.m., I'm not only a little drunk, I'm starving again. Hey, I have some fresh mozarella! I'll slice up some of that! That'll do the trick. It's yummy. It's filling. And even in my vodka'd haze, I'm aware that it's the hormones that want to eat, and that I'm not REALLY hungry.

That's what I thought until I decided to have a little piece of this amazing gluten-free chocolate cake I found at my organic grocery store last weekend. Heated up, with a little coconut gelato on top. (The great thing about this cake is that it's so rich, a small piece is all you need to get full chocolate satisfaction. Which is why I still have half a cake left, a week after I bought it.)

Needless to say, there's a big, long walk on my agenda today...

A little farce...

...and not just on the stage.

Last night, Miss Sassyhair and I trekked over to the East Bay, to attend the opening of Berkeley Rep's latest offering, Moliere's "The Miser." It's loooooong... but very funny, and the acting is really great. The staging is interesting as well.

And since it was opening night, the usual spread of free wine and snacks awaited us in the lobby after the play. That is a delightful tradition, I might add. But as we were partaking, we spotted the Thousand-Year-Old man who hit on Miss Sassyhair at our last Berkeley Rep outing, so we kept moving around the room, (which was quite crowded, since there were so many people glomming onto the free food) to avoid talking to him again.

Then some odd guy started to chat me up, and it appeared no place in the room was safe. It was comical, how many times we moved. And I'm not sure TYO got the hint, because it seemed like every time we settled somewhere, he'd end up nearby, moving ever closer.

We finally ended up in the ladies room, figuring THAT was safe... and also, because we needed to stop in there anyway. That's when we realized how late it was, and figured it was best to make our exit.

Luckily, we got out without Miss Sassyhair getting stuck in a TYO moment... Yeesh.

And now... I desperately need a nap... but am facing an afternoon of laundry excitement after work. Does life get any more exciting than that??

Could it be...?

As I was walking into my apartment building this afternoon, after work and a very frustrating trip to Trader Joe's (how can they be out of my bread? and my favorite chocolate treat? AND yeast? AND triple sec??? fer crying out loud), I saw it.

Outside the door that leads to my building's trash chute.

It was gross.

But.

It was a decomposing mouse carcass.

I haven't seen that little fucker* Reynaldo, nor any sign that he's been here (yes, I mean poopy droppings) for... uh... when did I last mention him? More than a week ago?

Has he actually met his maker? Without my direct involvement?

Or have I just tempted the fates, by mentioning this at all?

*that was just for you, bobo!

Oopsie...

Apparently, it's been so long since I've needed sunscreen that I've forgotten how to use it.

I spent yesterday at a BBQ in the South Bay, with my friend Sherri, her family, her in-laws, and some of her friends (the same people I spent Easter with). Fun, fun, fun.

And since it was a gorgeous, sunny day, I made sure to slather sunscreen on my face, and on my exposed chestal area... but I neglected my arms completely. And I was having such a good time that I didn't pay enough attention to how much time I spent with my left arm exposed to the sun.

It's a delightul shade of dark red today. And is there anything more attractive than an uneven sunburn? One arm... dark red. The other.... a lighter shade of red. And some variations on that theme on other parts of me. Nice. Feels great, too.

So here is what I'm wondering today....
You know how, when you want to make something happen in your life, you're supposed to visualize it, believe it, own it?
What do you do when it DOESN'T happen? Doesn't all that believing bring about greater disappointment?

It's something that occurred to me last week, amid all my visualizing and believing.
Now, I'm not sure what to think....

Everything is beautiful...

...at the ballet...

And it was, last night, at the opening of Smuin Ballet's spring season. They're a wonderful smaller company whose works encompass many different styles of music and dance. I just love 'em. They're so innovative. They make me wish I'd never stopped dancing.

I took ballet classes as a little girl, like many women my age, and have oh-so-many pictures of myself in little tutus and such. I stopped after a few years. I can't really remember why. I think we moved, and my parents didn't like something about the studio in our new neighborhood.

I started up again as a teenager, after seeing "The Turning Point," which introduced me to Mikhail Baryshnikov. HELLO. (I finally got to see him dance here in SF years later, and I still get chills thinking about it.) But it also reminded me how beautiful ballet really is.

But it didn't take long for me to realize that I wasn't disciplined enough for serious ballet study, and that I preferred a freer style of dance. So I switched to jazz and modern, which I absolutely loved. I became so obsessed that I was constantly choreographing in my head whenever I listened to music.

I even had a little fantasy for awhile about dancing professionally, but the practical side of me won out, and I took a different path. And eventually, I couldn't fit dance classes into my schedule anymore.

I miss it.

Sleepy haiku...

oh, mr. sandman

why leave me at 2 a.m.?

i can't keep this up

My face hurts...

...from laughing so hard last night.

Martin Short's "Fame Becomes Me" opened here, for its pre-Broadway tryout, and OMIGOD, is it funny.

There were at least three moments when I was completely overcome with uncontrollable laughter... you know, the kind that continues when everyone else has stopped laughing? So you try to put a lid on it, so the other theatre-goers can hear the dialogue/lyrics, but you can't stop? So you look and sound like you're having a seizure in your seat?

The kind of laughter that's almost as good as an orgasm? (I said almost.)

Yeah. That kind of laughter. I even snorted. Audibly. More than once. In public.

I haven't laughed like that in the theatre since... uh...well, "Spamalot." With the original cast.

Funny, too, was Dennis Miller's appearance in and around the front of the theatre before the show started. He was in and out and around so much I could swear he was trying to DRAW attention to himself...
However, he redeemed himself when he ended up on stage, for an interview with Jiminy Glick. That was damned funny.
I wonder how they'll do that bit when it's just regular folk in the crowd...

Then my friend and frequent theatre date Patti and I decided to check out the after-party, just to see if it would be as entertaining as the party for "Lestat" (I think, in that instance, the party was better than the show...) and ended up having such a blast chatting with one of the women who works at our sister station and her husband that we lost track of time.

I'm sure the champagne and wine had nothing to do with it.

I didn't end up in bed until about 12:30am, so I've been in graaaand shape today.

But it was totally worth it.

So not hot...

You Play it Cool

You're not in your face, smokin' hot... and it's all by design You have a carefully crafted cool persona, leaving everyone wanting to know just a little more.

Are You Hot?

I didn't really need a quiz to tell me that...(though I don't know that anyone wants to know more...)!
What about you?

A case of the Mondays?

I hate it when...

...I wake up ten minutes before the alarm goes off. Especially on mornings when I've given myself permission to get up a little later than usual, to catch a few more Zs.

...my newspaper is late.

...my upstairs neighbor flushes while I'm in the shower.

...I can't get my eyeliner on straight.

...the bus driver blasts the heater on warm mornings (or doesn't turn it on when it's cooooold).

...fellow bus passengers have their personal music player turned up so loud that you can hear the music through THEIR headphones.

...guys sit on the bus with their knees a mile apart. Your package ain't that big, pal.

...people stand on the bus, when there are plenty of seats... blocking the aisle, and forcing people to squeeze past them unnecessarily to get off.

...I spill something on my clothes ten minutes after I get to work.

...one person somehow manages to block the entire sidewalk.

...I have to clean all sorts of unidentified dried foodstuffs from my workstation upon arriving at work.

...someone leaves their dirty dishes in the sink in the breakroom.

...I can't get anyone to return my calls at work.

...our paydays are two and a half weeks apart.

...I screw up my finances so that I'm broke for most of that two and a half weeks.

...I have to call in for several days to find out whether I have to report for jury duty.

...I'm cooped up at work when I'd rather be out enjoying the sun... (yes, sun!).

UPDATED, 5pm: I DO have jury duty tomorrow. Oh, goody.
At least I don't have to get up as early as I do for work...

Not exactly my ideal Friday night...

There I was, sitting on the couch, finishing up my second glass of wine (a fine vintage of Two-Buck Chuck), wiping the tears from my eyes after yet another great episode of "Six Feet Under" (yeah yeah, I've seen 'em all more than once already... shut up), when, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something moving.

No, I think. It can't be. It's not Sunday night. I'm just really tired and could be hallucinating.

A few seconds later? Yep. There's Reynaldo...scampering from behind my loveseat to the area behind my TV set. The same path he took the first time we met.

I was going to wait until tomorrow to re-bait and move those worthless traps a third time, but no... it's just been done.

I chatted with my neighbors for a little while this afternoon (Tim's back from the hospital, by the way, looking thin and frail, but his prognosis is good) and they offered to loan me one of their cats for an evening. I might just take them up on that.

But if he brings me a dead mouse, I really WILL vomit.

(Do you have any idea how many times I've had to stop typing, during the course of this post, to scratch something?? GAAAH.)

Friday Funny...

And not just because the strip includes a mention of my TV boyfriend. Though that doesn't hurt.

In fact, if you have some time, peruse around this link and look through Don Asmussen's archives. He's damned funny.

Anyone who can make me laugh while riding the bus to work early in the morning is good people. (And of course, my giggling makes my fellow commuters think I'm insane, and that's not such a bad thing either.)

Happy Friday!

The real me...

You're no wilting flower, but sometimes you feel that way on the inside. Why not take a look at the disparity between the 'you' you present to the world and 'you' you know from the inside? Maybe it's just a little tiny disparity. Maybe it's a big one. Either way, it's interesting to investigate. Both 'yous' -- public and private -- are part of you, and exploring those 'yous' is one of your major projects in life.

This was one of my horoscopes from last week. I've been ruminating about it for days, because it's so on target.

Most of the time, I feel like I AM a wilting (and uber dorky) flower... yet I go to great lengths to make it appear as though I have my shit together. I guess we all do this, to some extent. Or do we?

Those who know me best know just what a mushy messy goofball I really am. And that at heart, I'm actually a shy person. An introvert. Who often feels like a fuck-up.

The loud, sassy, opinionated, obnoxious me only comes out when I'm around people with whom I'm comfortable. Oh, and at work, which is one of the few places where I DO feel confident and on top of things (most of the time. definitely not all the time).

So you can imagine how surprising it is to me when someone will tell me I have a strong presence, or even that I can be intimidating. It's happened more than once -- even my stupid ex-husband once said this to me -- and it shocks me every time. I can't help but wonder who the hell they're talking about. Because I know what a huge dork I truly am, despite the game face I can put on.

Now, I'm at a place where I really need to believe that I'm the confident, strong, together person I try to present to the world. I need to be my own best friend, my best cheerleader.

And it's ridiculous how much effort it's taking.

Reason # 756 that I am a dork...

Okay, remember when I wrote this?

I'm wearing that same blouse today, and it may be the first time I've had it on since last October. It's kind of a springy/summery kind of thing, and the weather's finally right for clothes like that.

Apparently, I never bothered to fix those little holes.

Something I just discovered, oh, about halfway through my work day.

Yeah. Classy. That's me.

I made a(nother) horrifying discovery yesterday: a mouse dropping.

IN MY KITCHEN!

WHERE I PREPARE FOOD!

WHICH I EAT!

I suppose I should be grateful it was just a single dropping... but I'm still icked out. No sign of the little bugger himself, though. I'm starting to believe that he's just a weekend visitor, which makes it all the more challenging to wipe him off the face of the earth.

And thanks for all your mouse-fighting suggestions. I'm going to start trying them very soon.

As soon as I stop retching. And scratching.

My next husband...

This only makes me love him more.

Yes, I know he's married.
And that he hasn't even met me yet.
But still... I think he's the one.

Come on... speaking in typos? Colberto Reporto Gigante? His 80's music video? Formidable Opponent? Is there anyone funnier?

It makes me so proud that the zoo here has named a baby eagle after him.

And on another subject, that goddamned mouse (or an accomplice) made an appearance in my kitchen last night. As one of my friends likes to say... VOMITOUS!

Apparently, this mouse likes to show up just before I go to bed on Sundays just to freak me out and keep me from sleeping.

Time to move the traps... and then bleach every surface of my kitchen!

BLEAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!

I swear, everytime I even think about that mouse, I get all itchy... !!