Ok, so I know they won't admit it for a while, but a little change might not be such a bad thing.

happy election day

Hopefully by this evening two things will be settled: 1. Obama will be the next President of the United States and 2. I'll stop receiving annoying political messages from virtual strangers via Facebook.

But there is one less obvious quandary left dangling down south. I saw an interesting article this morning about a clearly overlooked group of the voting population: the nudists. Apparently folks at the Caliente Resort and Spa in Florida would like to vote naked. For being naked and all, this group seems a little high-maintenance. They have requested their own polling station be erected (pun intended) at their resort so that they may get their vote on in the buff. The have also scoffed at the suggestion that they vote absentee. "It's about freedom," a member insisted. "We take our civic duty seriously and nudism is a very serious part of our lifestyle." So, two questions remain today: who will win the election and what ever happened with Florida's nude vote. Stay tuned.

My job is sort of a miserable experience these days, as I know it is for many people. For me it's not so much if bad news will come, but if it will come before or after lunch. Things can only get better though, right? The ridiculous wig I won on eBay for my Halloween costume did arrive in the mail yesterday, so that's pretty good.

For now, here's something else pretty good from David Sedaris.

sometimes older is better

Well friends, last night's debate pretty much sucked liked the first two in that watching it left me tired, angry and a little drunk. Basically it went down like this: McCain attacked Obama with something off-base and a little crazy, Obama shot it down in one or two sentences, McCain gnarled his teeth and scribbled out his frustration on his angry little notepad. Rinse and repeat. I really don't think John McCain's a totally bad guy, and I frankly felt a little sorry for him. I think his campaign has gotten so far out of his control, he's almost a bystander at this point.

Anyway, onto more important things. The finale of Project Runway was also last night, so I was flipping back and forth between the debate and Bravo. Spoiler alert: Leann won and I was thrilled. Obama and Leann - two cool heads, finding themselves in the midst of chaos, kept their focus and came out on top! Let's just hope this winning streak makes its way to November 4.

Before all of that, though, I had to hang around the museum for a dinner honoring some of our oldest donors - I counted two walkers and one wheelchair at my table. They are one of my favorite groups to be around, however, because I am always surprised by some of the things they will say. The highlight of the night was when the woman seated next to me asked if I would be watching the Project Runway finale later. I told her I would indeed and she said that she was leaving dinner early so that her driver could get her home in time. She was rooting for Kenley. I then asked if she was going to try to see any of the debate and she said no, she hates them both and she'll be dead soon anyway. The old ladies are always the wisest. God bless America.

sometimes hate is pretty funny

Sure, I don't particularly care for all the hate-mongering, blatant racism, lying and the use/abuse of religion as a campaign battle cry - but you have to hand it to those hard-core Palin/McCain supporters (she is basically top of the ticket now, right?) - they come up with the best bumper stickers.

I knew my people would come through

Sexy Sarah hasn't won them all. http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20081009/ts_afp/usvoteobamarednecks_081009162329

can't stop watching this

screw you, Suze Orman

Suze Orman, who I generally like and whose advice I think we could all use, said on TV last night that in these tumultuous economic times we should cut out all frivolous things - specifically she mentioned Halloween decorations, costumes, parties and the like.

Is she going to cancel Christmas, too? I need Halloween. I need stupid screaming skulls and glowing pumpkins and people well into their 30's wearing embarrassing costumes.

Screw you, Suze Orman.

while I was away from my desk, continued

As I started to share a few days ago, my car was stolen. On a hot, sweaty September night a couple of weeks ago, my car was taken from the parking lot of my condo building; the gated, security guarded parking lot of my condo; the overly-lit, gated, security guarded parking lot of my condo. To make this scenario all the more ridiculous, my car, in case you didn't know, was a 1995 Honda Civic with a dent in the side, a sagging front bumper and at least one gross Starbucks cup covered in lipstick in the cup holder. It was parked between a sexy little convertible BMW and a brand new Prius.

I went out to leave for work the next morning and it just wasn't there. Just an empty space where I had left it the night before. I stood there a minute, let it all soak in, and called 911. After calling I was approached by two other sad-sacks who had found their cars not stolen, but vandalized. I told them my car had been stolen and that the police were on the way. One of them asked me what kind of car I had, I told her, and she said, "Now that's really weird. Why would they steal that?"

The police arrived quickly to file a report. The officer explained to me that 1995 Honda Civics are one of the most stolen cars for three reasons - 1. they are easy to break into, 2. the parts are sold at top dollar, and 3. Mexicans like to turn them into tricked out clown cars like this:

I quickly decided that if didn't get my car back, I was hoping for the third fate. I sort of liked the idea of seeing a hot pink low-rider on Buford Highway and wondering if maybe it was my car living an exciting second life in the latino fast lane.

Sadly, la vida loca was not in the cards for my Honda. Its dignity stripped, along with its tires, my car was found abandoned in a Dekalb county ditch with no bumpers, its headlights dangling from their wires like a pair of gouged eyeballs. The city towed it to its final junk yard resting place. And just to have them take the car off my hands, I had to go and pay a fee of $125 to a large, humorless black woman perched behind bullet proof glass overlooking the bleak sea of car skeletons - a cruel way to have to say goodbye to my loyal chariot of 13 years.

Stress ensued in the coming days as I became unreasonably panicked at the prospect of buying a new car - something that happens when you keep the same car you drove in high school until you're 31. Fortunately it all worked out thanks in part to the level head of J and the courteous assistance of Associated Credit Union. I'm now the proud owner of a beautiful Mazda 6. It feels especially fancy to me - again, I was accustomed to driving a really old car - so I'm tooling around town at an admittedly slower pace, (ok, like an 80 year-old grammy), am considering some type of plastic sheeting to protect the entire interior from stains, and feel a little sad every time I see an old Civic on the road - painted day-glow green, or maybe purple, with a really tall spoiler, giant tires with super shiny rims, and an ever-so-subtle hint of glitter shimmer in the paint.

while I was away from my desk

Sorely overdue for a post and I'm really going to do it, just not now. A lot has happened: my car was stolen, a shiny new one was purchased, the U.S. economy took a swift ride down the can and Sarah Palin met some exotic foreign folks for the first time in NYC! So much to discuss, and I will post soon.

Until then, this bit of magic courtesy of my dad.

presidential grill, part II

History was made last night, and regardless of your personal political views, it's something to sit up and take notice of. Maybe even be pretty excited about.

Now this is a presidential grill.

presidential grill

John McCain is a lot of things - some not so great, some not so bad. But have you seen his teeth? I'm just sayin'.

did I mention that I hate American Idol?

There are many reasons why. Here are two pretty good ones.

Diamond Dave: still the (slightly gay) king of crazy

Last night my sister and I went to the Van Halen show here in Atlanta. It was at the Gwinnett Center Arena, which if you're not familiar with Atlanta and its environs, is located in an unsavory sea of strip malls, chain bars (The Loafing Leprechaun...it was as bad as it sounds) and at least one Holiday Inn. The arena itself, however, was a pretty good venue; certainly the cleanest place I've ever seen a big show. Good sound, clean toilets, and a generous pour on the $8 Bud Light served to me in a giant plastic cup. No complaints here.

And after the clean toilets and big Buds, things only got better. Friends, Van Halen puts on a great show. All joking aside, they were so fun - it was truly impressive. Eddie has suffered through tongue cancer, multiple rehab stays and a hip replacement? Really? He looked healthy and spry from where I was sitting. Even his son held his own, the slightly chubby and awkward Wolfie Van Halen on bass. Alex Van Halen actually appeared to have been frozen in time with a face that hasn't really changed since 1989. I even enjoyed the really long drum solo!

And then there was Dave. What can I say - the man looks incredible. And maybe it's always been there and I'm just now seeing it, but there was a little gay vibe. (Maybe it was the hairless, waxed chest and the bedazzled general's outfit? Who can say. But if a reincarnated Liberace was there performing Runnin' with the Devil on stage, it would be only slightly different from what I beheld last night.) As buff and chiseled as ever, he spent most of the evening sporting an open shirt that left the ladies swooning in their seats! Dancing, high-kicking and looking totally cuckoo crazy from start to finish, seeing David Lee Roth live was everything I had hoped it would be. Naturally, Jump ended the show and was made complete with an enormous inflatable microphone/phallus that Dave twirled around with as a cloud of confetti fell from the ceiling.

The rest of the evening's enjoyment came from the crowd - a spirited crew of suburban dads in Dockers, Johnny Van Zant look-a-likes, a handful of lesbians and just enough older gals in short skirts and leather to make any gathering a good time.

(Proud Jacksonville, Florida

native Johnny Van Zant took over for his late brother and personal style inspiration, Ronnie, as the lead singer of Lynyrd Skynyrd in the 1980's. Other Jacksonville fun-facts: 1. Lynyrd Skynyrd, 38 Special

and I all hail from Jacksonville's westside, a storied spot in southern rock history. 2. There are a lot of men that look like this in

Jacksonville and most of them went to my high school.)

After the show, we headed out to the lobby to buy a t-shirt for my brother-in-law, 2040. There were many t-shirts to choose from, all overpriced. But the souvenirs didn't stop at t-shirts. There were Van Halen tote bags (perhaps a perfect gift for that educator in your life - hot for teacher, indeed!), Van Halen bumper stickers and red Van Halen thongs at the reasonable price of only $15 - a true deal. Fortunately, for those of you not at the show, that deal is also here.

We then made our way to the parking lot where we wandered a while before eventually finding our car. You might assume a champagne Mercedes Benz sedan would be easily found in the parking lot of the Gwinnett Center Van Halen show, right? Not so. We were right in line with most of the crowd: there were many Mercedes, BMW's and Lexus in the mix with just a smattering of pick-up trucks and late 80's/early 90's model camaros here and there to keep it real. Van Halen's fan base has grown up, I guess. But that didn't keep them from rocking out - starched golf shirts be damned.

Needless to say, should Van Halen make its way to your town, I suggest you buy a ticket. And maybe a thong.

three times a lady

Just checking in. I don't have a real post today. I've been too obsessed with reading, watching and listening to the coverage - the CONSTANT coverage - of the FLDS bust up in Texas. Some people want to hear about the economy (apparently there's something wrong with it), some folks want to hear about Barack and Hils and all that jazz. Me? I want to hear about the FLDS - only that. Seriously, this story will never get old to me. Take me on another guided tour of a polygamist house with one of the zombie women, Larry King. Let me hear more about your take on it, Nancy Grace. Even you, Anderson Cooper, let me know what you've got on the story. Bill O'Reilly, I hate you so much, but right now I would also like to get your take on the whole thing.

a friday potpourri

Taking the lead from today's post on 2040 Worldview (and buckling under the pressure of its author's overwhelming demands that I post something new), this afternoon I will share some equally random thoughts. TGIF!

1. I'm starting to hate everything related to the race for president. The firestorm over Rev. Wright's controversial comments from the pulpit regarding the N-word, Hillary never being called the N-word, and the general fact that rich white people run the United States was ridiculous. While his presentation maybe could have used a little, uh, discretion, did he really say anything that wasn't true? Of all the things she has been called, Hillary hasn't ever been called the N-word. And of course the United States is run by rich white people. Was Obama totally ill-advised and naive if he really thought that his Rev's "direct" approach at the pulpit wasn't going to come up at some point and reflect negatively on his campaign? Absolutely. But I also recall John McCain (and countless other Republicans) hanging out with the now deceased, but eternally hateful Jerry Falwell back in the day in an effort to gain the approval of ultra-conservative evangelicals, and somehow that was alright. (FYI to all the evangelicals out there: John McCain's fortune belongs to his wife, and she got it from selling BEER.) So, yeah, Rev. Wright said some pretty racist things, and Jerry Falwell was a flaming homophobe who said terrible things all the time. I don't fault John McCain for that, nor do I fault Barack Obama for what his friend Reverend Wright said. Plus, I think we all know that the Rev's bit about Bill sticking it to the American people like he stuck it to Monica was hysterical.

2. And speaking of black comedians I enjoy, my favorite part of the Hillary/Bosnia debacle a couple of weeks ago was that Sinbad was a central character in the story. Hillary just made some shit up, and Sinbad called her out on it. Now if we could only find a way to get one of my personal favorites, Bernie Mac, in on the action. Bernie would totally straighten Hillary's ass out!

3. I got engaged a couple of weeks ago. In addition to the well wishes and interest of my friends and family, what I'm really enjoying most are the tips, queries and general thoughts from people I barely know.

Among my favorites, so far:
"Don't waste your money on a wedding cake. They're never good."

"You should take dance lessons so that you'll be a good dancer at your reception."

"I thought you were already married."

4. I just found out that this group is coming to Atlanta in July, and yes, I want to go.

the time of my life

(Two posts in one week. This probably won't happen again for six months.)
Sad news came this morning when on the Today show it was announced that Patrick Swayze has pancreatic cancer. They say he's undergoing treatment and doing pretty well. Meredith Vierra then made a point of saying, "Well, if you're going to have cancer, pancreatic cancer isn't the one you want." As always, she was waiting in the wings with just the right thing to say.

There are a number of 80's/early 90's films, all of widely varying levels of quality, that if I find are on TV, I get really excited and feel immediately obliged to watch them. And as luck would have it, Patrick Swayze plays a significant role in this list of hits. In honor of everybody's favorite dancing man and his speedy recovery, let's copy so many other blogs today and dork out with a walk down my personal Swayze-memory lane.

Dirty Dancing. There's so much right with Dirty Dancing, it's impossible to really delve into this topic here. It's a post unto itself. First love, first overtly sexual dance moves, back alley abortion, class wars, triumph over both adversity and terrible music. But at the end of the day, Swayze and his tight little pants made this movie and without him, well, Baby might as well have stayed in that corner.

(Side note: Friends of mine over the years have said that Baby's dad, played by the late Jerry Orbach, looked a little like my dad.)

And not that any real DD fan needs a reminder, but Swayze was also a triple threat this time around:



Ghost. I don't love Ghost the way some folks do - primarily because Swayze wasn't dancing in this film, and to me, that's like chocolate without peanut butter; it's good, but it could be better.
Regardless, it's a hit - high on drama, lots of tears, cheese. And nobody gets pissed off like Patrick Swayze, especially pissed off ghost Swayze! Even though his fight scenes were always a little too graceful, he still got the job done. Whoopi Goldberg is also in this movie, but don't let that deter you. She plays a character named Oda Mae. She's naturally pretty annoying. But there is a bonus: hearing Patrick Swayze say Oda Mae over and over. It couldn't sound more unnatural coming out of his mouth.


Roadhouse. For years this film was somehow interwoven in my mind with Rhinestone as an odd hybrid featuring Patrick Swayze, Sylvester Stallone, Sam Elliott and Dolly Parton. (add Cher and you almost have Mask in there, too.) Here again we find ourselves dealing with Patrick's overly graceful fight moves. He got away with it in Ghost, but in a white trash bar fight all that prancing around doesn't cut it. Fortunately Sam Elliott is there to balance out the necessary scruffy masculine equilibrium as only he can. And the soundtrack? Bob Seger, Little Feet and a song called "Raising Heaven in Hell Tonight", another original by Swayze. Can you believe I couldn't find a clip of that song on YouTube?

Maybe someday I'll post about the other films in my private hits list which includes the aforementioned Mask, Ghostbusters, House Party, Fast Times as Ridgemont High and Porkie's. (I know you'll all look out for that post with great anticipation.) But today it's just about Swayze. Get well soon, Johnny Castle.

hump day

** Try googling for images related to "hump day". When I did, I ended up with lots of porn shots and a few photos of US soldiers pretending to hump camels in the Iraqi desert.**

Hump Day is a stupid saying. Today is the big hump, and it's one of those days that started bad and has slowly rallied to being tolerable. Want the details? Of course you do.

3:30ish am - I awake to the drone of some asshole's car alarm. (And yes, it's totally fair to call this guy an asshole. He consistently parks under my bedroom window and his goddam car alarm goes off at least once a week. And he's perpetually topless in the condo gym. And judging by the bizarre stubble, he shaves his chest. And he drives a Miata.)

4:00am - Still awake. I've taken multiple bathroom trips, one trip to the kitchen to drink some juice that will lead to more bathroom trips, and am now watching an infomercial sharing the secrets of how people just like me are making thousands of dollars every day by selling crappy stuff on eBay. Dizzy and sleepy, I make a note-to-self that I really should learn more about this money-making phenomenon as soon as possible.

5:00am - I've fallen back to sleep, but I'm awakened again by - wait for it, wait for it - dickhead's Miata alarm. I consider screaming something nasty out my open bedroom window (wouldn't be the first time), but decide against it. He's probably still asleep and wouldn't hear me anyway.

5:45ish am - Back to sleep. Awakened this time not by the car alarm, but rather by my own mind suddenly remembering that I have a doctor's appointment at 9. I also have a work meeting at 9. Oops. Go back to sleep. Have a dream about being at the gynecologist's office and the waiting room is filled with my coworkers.

7:00am - Good morning, bright eyes. I get out of bed and turn on the Today show. Meredith Vierra is on the screen, saying something dumb. I walk to the kitchen and feed my cat his daily can of food that smells like rotten fish guts. I eat a Balance bar, drink some juice while sitting on the coffee table, staring at Meredith Vierra for a really long time. I know I could fall sleep in this position.

7:30ish am - Shower, apply extra concealer under my wore out eyes, dress. Just for good measure (and consistency, really) the fucking Miata goes off again.

8:15am - I give a coworker a call, seeing if she can cover for me in the 9 o'clock meeting. She can, no problem. I knew I liked her.

8:20am - I pull out of my parking lot where I'm greeted by a long line of cars, stopped. In front of that long line of cars is a longer line of tall girls waiting to get into the Atlanta casting call for America's Next Top Model at the hotel across the street from my building. Many of them are in mini skirts, despite the 35 degree chill. I give them props for that level of commitment. But it doesn't change the fact that they're holding up the traffic flow and will likely make me late for my appointment.

8:35isham - I mutter "bitches" over and over, then focus my attention to the Regular Guys radio program. They're on the phone with Tommy the Tard. (If you know me well, you know I'm a closeted Howard Stern fan. They're no Howard, but the Regular Guys serve as a good supplement for my secret love of listening to dirty ol' shock jocks.)

8:40am - The line of cars and models move. I hit the road with enough time to get some coffee and make it to the doc's office on schedule. No coworkers in the waiting room.

10:30ish am - I get to work. The first email I read is alerting our staff of multiple toilet and urinal leaks throughout the building. I'm disgusted, and still exhausted. I get another cup of coffee before getting any work done.

12:30 pm - For lunch I eat a delicious chicken salad sandwich - and immediately, all is right with the world again. A quality sour dough and dark meat chicken chunks are really all it takes to get me back on the sunny side. That, and of course this:

the village is taking back its idiot, and I'm going to miss him

It hit me last night as I watched the final debate between Hillary and Barack before Super Tuesday that we are witnessing the end of an era; an era when, amidst anguish shared over the soiling of our country's credibility throughout the world, we could at least sit back and enjoy a good laugh at the expense of our Commander-in-Chief. He pissed us off, he made me somehow unfairly hate Texas, but at the end of the day George W. Bush has provided endless laughs. The Daily Show has the man to thank for its considerable popularity, and I have to wonder if the Colbert Report would have ever been created without the Bush administration.

We'll be hard pressed to catch too many awkward word usage or grammatical quandaries in the next administration. We know Obama and Clinton are skilled in that regard, but John McCain's not too bad himself - dull - sure - but he's a bright man. I doubt we'll catch him referencing OBGYNS at inappropriate moments, over and over again. And while Mitt Romney totally creeps me out for reasons I can't even articulate, he's not tripping over his tongue too often either. I mean, I don't think we'll even end up with a bumbling Vice President to chuckle at.

And what about the bumper stickers? I've just grown accustomed to seeing "W the President" and its delightful counterpart, "F the President". Who doesn't love, "If you can read this, you're not the President"? And "More Trees, Less Bush"? And "Bush: putting the CON in conservative"? And Calvin peeing on George Bush's head? Come on - you're going to miss that.

Then there's the potential Presidential offspring. We can wave a sad farewell to Jenna Bush and her years of good times n' tomfoolery. Chelsea brought us some mean-spirited laughs as an unsightly child in the White House, but she shed her ugly duckling wings a long time ago. These days she's shopping with Donatella Versace and getting her hair chemically straightened. I don't know anything about Romney's kids, and I sort of don't care. John McCain has a 20-something daughter with a little potential in the Jenna direction, but I just don't know. Barack's kids? Too young to tell, but I think it's safe to assume there won't be anything to poke fun at there.

It all just sounds like an oddly humorless time ahead for our nation. A time of clear thought, somewhat rational decision making, leadership we can take some pride in - and frankly, no laughs. Thank God for Mike Huckabee.

the new year so far

A decent amount of stuff to share, yet little of it's very interesting. At 31 I have just recovered from the chicken pox. I guess I thought I'd somehow cheated the disease, having never had it as a child. But on New Year's Day, I woke up covered in the filthy lesions and spent the remainder of the week looking like a extra from 28 Days Later (complete with a red, pussy eye) and unable to wear anything other than a bathrobe. (The bright side to this situation, of course, was that I enjoyed hour upon hour of reality television and reruns of Designing Women on Lifetime - a hidden blessing, really.) Since then I've been harassed by a neighbor over allegations of mysterious late night noise coming from my condo (unless I'm sleep-dancing, or something, I'm quite certain there is a mistake). And I'm having surgery next week for the first time in my life. It's not major surgery or anything, but it's still surgery dealing with internal organs, and since I'm a gigantic wuss this naturally means I'm secretly sort of terrified. Other than that, it's been business as usual. The greatest thing I have to share is this: