Wednesday, February 27, 2008
I Don't Even Know
I LOVE this song... but won't you please watch this video and take a ride me?
The hair! The pant suits! The dancing! I love ALL of this and I WISH I WAS OLIVIA NEWTON JOHN in both Zanadu AND Grease.
Oops, there go a bunch of people on roller skates!
Hmmm, and there are some mimes (credibility decreasing).
OK, here come some dancers, whoops, pedestal dancing.
OH MY GOD it's Shields and Yarnell on a fucking tightrope! MY EYES!
Olivia hugs herself.
Some more roller skating.
Gene Simmons or possibly Richard Simmons.
Some Evil Knievel moves on skates.
More dancers.
Alien Olivia (I'm scared).
Transformation to Olivia virgin (better).
WHO IS THE DUDE SHE'S SINGING TO?
Everyone just beamed away.
Star-wipe.
Did I just take acid and play Space Invaders?
I LOVE this song... but won't you please watch this video and take a ride me?
The hair! The pant suits! The dancing! I love ALL of this and I WISH I WAS OLIVIA NEWTON JOHN in both Zanadu AND Grease.
Oops, there go a bunch of people on roller skates!
Hmmm, and there are some mimes (credibility decreasing).
OK, here come some dancers, whoops, pedestal dancing.
OH MY GOD it's Shields and Yarnell on a fucking tightrope! MY EYES!
Olivia hugs herself.
Some more roller skating.
Gene Simmons or possibly Richard Simmons.
Some Evil Knievel moves on skates.
More dancers.
Alien Olivia (I'm scared).
Transformation to Olivia virgin (better).
WHO IS THE DUDE SHE'S SINGING TO?
Everyone just beamed away.
Star-wipe.
Did I just take acid and play Space Invaders?
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
C'mon Now Meghan!
Oh how I love to poke fun at the Mean Dad Law Co., so named because when Nick and I first met our mediator he looked at me crossly when we presented him with the breakdown of our debt and then gave me grief about it. That mediator, who came highly recommended from a friend as being a good and fair guy, is really just a mean dad. And every time I call that office or have to go over there to sign something they never know who the hell I am, and that's after I say my name and explain who I'm supposed to see and that THEY CALLED ME for Christ's sake.
They told me I'd be divorced by January 1st... and then I got this call two weeks ago to come in and sign some afit davits... and when I asked WHY I needed to sign yet more things Mean Dad's assistant laughingly told me that they had been reconfiguring their office space and were behind. But then she got all concerned and asked if I was in a hurry to get remarried? Oh the laughter and giggles we shared.
So I go down there YET AGAIN to sign yet more papers. And my gal Mean Dad's assistant is at the desk (it's truly reconfigured, it's now on the other side of the foyer), and she hasn't a clue who I am, yet I am there to see her, at the very time we agreed upon. But, after introducing myself for about the 8th time, she quickly gathers up the necessary papers and off we go into a depressing anteroom complete with bad art and windows that face a grey wall with about 4 inches to spare.
"What now?" I say after signing. Apparently just another court filing which will take a few weeks, and then it's all done. OK, I think, another few weeks to go, it's not all that bad.
Then last Tuesday I find out through facebook that I actually am divorced... waaaah?
So I call my gal and learn that she's away this week, but "Meghan" is covering. The conversation goes something like this:
"Meghan, I was in there two weeks ago to sign afit davits for my divorce. I was told it would take a couple of weeks to come through, but I just found out on facebook that my ex-husband got his decree in the mail and he's been out celebrating. I haven't received anything yet. Is it true that I'm now divorced?"
"Um, it's possible? But I have to ask someone? Can I, uh, just ask someone here and then call you back? Or, uh, would you like to hold for one of the other assistants?"
"If you can call me back that would be great." (exchange of information... etc.... the phone rings about 10 minutes later).
"Hi, um, this is Meghan? From xxxxxx's office? Um, yes, we actually have your decree here? But there is also, um, an outstanding amount on the account...? And um, we're just wondering, how to spilt, I mean, settle... Where should we send...?"
"C'mon now Meghan, that bill's not gonna pay itself. Are you a student? [yes] You just send everything on to me. Don't leave me hanging here! [laughs]
So eventually I should get a bill and a divorce decree in the mail and that will be the end of that.
Oh how I love to poke fun at the Mean Dad Law Co., so named because when Nick and I first met our mediator he looked at me crossly when we presented him with the breakdown of our debt and then gave me grief about it. That mediator, who came highly recommended from a friend as being a good and fair guy, is really just a mean dad. And every time I call that office or have to go over there to sign something they never know who the hell I am, and that's after I say my name and explain who I'm supposed to see and that THEY CALLED ME for Christ's sake.
They told me I'd be divorced by January 1st... and then I got this call two weeks ago to come in and sign some afit davits... and when I asked WHY I needed to sign yet more things Mean Dad's assistant laughingly told me that they had been reconfiguring their office space and were behind. But then she got all concerned and asked if I was in a hurry to get remarried? Oh the laughter and giggles we shared.
So I go down there YET AGAIN to sign yet more papers. And my gal Mean Dad's assistant is at the desk (it's truly reconfigured, it's now on the other side of the foyer), and she hasn't a clue who I am, yet I am there to see her, at the very time we agreed upon. But, after introducing myself for about the 8th time, she quickly gathers up the necessary papers and off we go into a depressing anteroom complete with bad art and windows that face a grey wall with about 4 inches to spare.
"What now?" I say after signing. Apparently just another court filing which will take a few weeks, and then it's all done. OK, I think, another few weeks to go, it's not all that bad.
Then last Tuesday I find out through facebook that I actually am divorced... waaaah?
So I call my gal and learn that she's away this week, but "Meghan" is covering. The conversation goes something like this:
"Meghan, I was in there two weeks ago to sign afit davits for my divorce. I was told it would take a couple of weeks to come through, but I just found out on facebook that my ex-husband got his decree in the mail and he's been out celebrating. I haven't received anything yet. Is it true that I'm now divorced?"
"Um, it's possible? But I have to ask someone? Can I, uh, just ask someone here and then call you back? Or, uh, would you like to hold for one of the other assistants?"
"If you can call me back that would be great." (exchange of information... etc.... the phone rings about 10 minutes later).
"Hi, um, this is Meghan? From xxxxxx's office? Um, yes, we actually have your decree here? But there is also, um, an outstanding amount on the account...? And um, we're just wondering, how to spilt, I mean, settle... Where should we send...?"
"C'mon now Meghan, that bill's not gonna pay itself. Are you a student? [yes] You just send everything on to me. Don't leave me hanging here! [laughs]
So eventually I should get a bill and a divorce decree in the mail and that will be the end of that.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
The Gay Divorcee
Apparently as of Tuesday February 19, 2008, I am divorced. I didn't receive any notice, but Nick received a decree in the mail (signed by a judge and everything). I thought back to the wedding gift I bought Nick: roller blades from Duke's Cycle, which burned to the ground early in the morning on February 20.
And everything has changed.
I have recurring dreams all the time of living in my parents' house, my family, except I'm there as an adult, but doing childhood things with them. In my dream's mind I know they're dead, but I long to continue the dream as though we are all alive together because I know in painful waking that I can't go back to them. There is something I want there and it only comes in dreams.
I have never had a dream where I'm back with Nick, that we are a family, nor that we live in this house that I own now.
**
I went back to Ohio
But my city was gone
There was no train station
There was no downtown
South Howard had disappeared
All my favourite places
My city had been pulled down
Reduced to parking spaces
Well I went back to Ohio
But my family was gone
I stood on the back porch
There was no one home
I was stunned and amazed
My childhood memories
Slowly swirled past
Like the wind through the trees
I went back to Ohio
But my pretty country side
Had been paved down the middle
By a government that had no pride
The farms of Ohio
Had been replaced by shopping malls
And Muzak filled the air
From Seneca to Cuyagoha Falls
Apparently as of Tuesday February 19, 2008, I am divorced. I didn't receive any notice, but Nick received a decree in the mail (signed by a judge and everything). I thought back to the wedding gift I bought Nick: roller blades from Duke's Cycle, which burned to the ground early in the morning on February 20.
And everything has changed.
I have recurring dreams all the time of living in my parents' house, my family, except I'm there as an adult, but doing childhood things with them. In my dream's mind I know they're dead, but I long to continue the dream as though we are all alive together because I know in painful waking that I can't go back to them. There is something I want there and it only comes in dreams.
I have never had a dream where I'm back with Nick, that we are a family, nor that we live in this house that I own now.
**
I went back to Ohio
But my city was gone
There was no train station
There was no downtown
South Howard had disappeared
All my favourite places
My city had been pulled down
Reduced to parking spaces
Well I went back to Ohio
But my family was gone
I stood on the back porch
There was no one home
I was stunned and amazed
My childhood memories
Slowly swirled past
Like the wind through the trees
I went back to Ohio
But my pretty country side
Had been paved down the middle
By a government that had no pride
The farms of Ohio
Had been replaced by shopping malls
And Muzak filled the air
From Seneca to Cuyagoha Falls
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Little Punk Asses
I've become vitriolic. This team we play have this habit of rough checking, howling and yowling like monkies on acid when they score and worst of all, charging the net. I've gotten into the habit of bad-mouthing them among hockey contacts. I've stopped shaking hands with them after games. And I don't like this about myself! But perhaps I've earned the right to get pissed off and shirty about these little fuckin shit disturbers who wear too much black fucking eyeliner and break their sticks across my leg and send me slamming into the post. They're a bunch of little reckless jerkoffs.
I've become vitriolic. This team we play have this habit of rough checking, howling and yowling like monkies on acid when they score and worst of all, charging the net. I've gotten into the habit of bad-mouthing them among hockey contacts. I've stopped shaking hands with them after games. And I don't like this about myself! But perhaps I've earned the right to get pissed off and shirty about these little fuckin shit disturbers who wear too much black fucking eyeliner and break their sticks across my leg and send me slamming into the post. They're a bunch of little reckless jerkoffs.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Crack Pipe In Men's Washroom 7th Floor
Email sent round my work about 2 seconds ago, leaving me laughing at my desk:
**
Subject: Cracked pipe in men's washroom 7th floor
FYI
Last Friday we had a flood from the men's washroom 7th floor which seep its way down into the washrooms on the 6th floor. In these washrooms the electrical fixtures were exposed to the water, building personnel had to come up and close the power until the fixtures had time to dry out. This left staff on the 6th without use of the washrooms until Monday.
It was determined that the cause was from people using their foot to flush the toilet. In doing so, after an amount of time, the pipe cracked and the water gushed out until the main valve was shut off.
Please if you are concerned with germs when you flush the toilet use a paper towel to cover your hands then throw the paper towel into the waste bin. Or wash your hands after you have flushed the toilet.
By using your foot you are loosing the flusher and again a possibility of cracking the water pipe.
Regards
**
At first I thought it said "CRACK PIPE found in men's washroom 7th floor", which I SO WISH IT HAD SAID. It would rock if people did crack here, I swear. And giving me directions to the crack pipe? Even better.
Second, when I dried my eyes and read the rest of the email... what on earth? People are flushing the toilets with their feet? Are we circus performers (on crack)?
And I love the advice "if you are concerned with germs". Ugh! What we're really talking about is poopy hands at work! If you're NOT concerned you better GET concerned. And the line: "Or wash your hands after you have flushed the toilet [which is missing a phrase at the end: LIKE YOU ALREADY DO, RIGHT??????]"
Man alive!
Email sent round my work about 2 seconds ago, leaving me laughing at my desk:
**
Subject: Cracked pipe in men's washroom 7th floor
FYI
Last Friday we had a flood from the men's washroom 7th floor which seep its way down into the washrooms on the 6th floor. In these washrooms the electrical fixtures were exposed to the water, building personnel had to come up and close the power until the fixtures had time to dry out. This left staff on the 6th without use of the washrooms until Monday.
It was determined that the cause was from people using their foot to flush the toilet. In doing so, after an amount of time, the pipe cracked and the water gushed out until the main valve was shut off.
Please if you are concerned with germs when you flush the toilet use a paper towel to cover your hands then throw the paper towel into the waste bin. Or wash your hands after you have flushed the toilet.
By using your foot you are loosing the flusher and again a possibility of cracking the water pipe.
Regards
**
At first I thought it said "CRACK PIPE found in men's washroom 7th floor", which I SO WISH IT HAD SAID. It would rock if people did crack here, I swear. And giving me directions to the crack pipe? Even better.
Second, when I dried my eyes and read the rest of the email... what on earth? People are flushing the toilets with their feet? Are we circus performers (on crack)?
And I love the advice "if you are concerned with germs". Ugh! What we're really talking about is poopy hands at work! If you're NOT concerned you better GET concerned. And the line: "Or wash your hands after you have flushed the toilet [which is missing a phrase at the end: LIKE YOU ALREADY DO, RIGHT??????]"
Man alive!
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Winter Days
Winter days are when you walk down to the park and all the cars and vans are covered in snow like irresistable blank canvasses to kids who then write "bum" and "ass" on every single one. And all the dogs hop and bounce in the snowy depths and smile at you. The city looks clean. Blond hair looks blonder. And my new ipod holds ALL my songs, the big Sigur Ros ones and the tiny Sex Pistols ones. And snow is too heavy to really shovel because I was out all day and too much fell and I didn't put down salt.
Winter days are when you walk down to the park and all the cars and vans are covered in snow like irresistable blank canvasses to kids who then write "bum" and "ass" on every single one. And all the dogs hop and bounce in the snowy depths and smile at you. The city looks clean. Blond hair looks blonder. And my new ipod holds ALL my songs, the big Sigur Ros ones and the tiny Sex Pistols ones. And snow is too heavy to really shovel because I was out all day and too much fell and I didn't put down salt.
