Poor Firefighters

I don't know. Maybe it was the fact that I was out with a gay friend the other night. Maybe it had a little bit to do with the article I read and then referred to in this post. Maybe I'm 34. Maybe I'm ovulating??? Maybe I've had a couple of days to STEW about X getting laid and it's pissing me off that I didn't go ahead and get it all over with first!

But I'm not sure. It could be any of the above. And we all know that I have immeasurable quantities of self control- especially when compared to that juvenile.

Not long ago, a meth lab near my workplace exploded or something and we were all treated to such a show as put on by the local fire station. An officemate and I stood around gawking at the bravery and efficiency they displayed in taming the beastly flames. The house next door started to catch on fire. One fireman grabbed a hose while some others helped, and off he went. Crash! He dove THROUGH a glass door, RIGHT into the burning house! I just about fainted. I think my officemate almost did too, and he's not even gay. Really, how could anyone RESIST loving these guys? All fire was put out in about three minutes and with the police left to finish up all the boring crap, we all went back to work. Firemen probably went back to lifting weights.

Anyway. I had to run to the office this afternoon. Sunday is my "get all this shit done before the boss gets to work in the morning" day. For the first time, I noticed the
fire station not more than a few short blocks from there. I slowed the car a bit, leering at the figures walking around inside the big garage area thing. Looking pretty good, for dark shady figures! Which distinguishes them from the fire fighters near my house. They are old and yucky. Too many 'roids like that Benoit dude. But we're talking about the inner city over by the office, so I'm sure all the strapping young stallions ( oops did I just say that ) have to start out in problem areas of the city.

A friend of mine was working on a project when I got to my desk. I gushed over the firemen, vowing to contribute to one of their Holiday drives for Starving Children in South Phoenix or whatever. And I will, too! I will TRY not to cat-call them or make any of those crude "hose" jokes because firemen are NOT just some objects for our gratification, okay? They are human beings. With feelings. And muscles. Young, STRONG muscles. So I need to have a little more respect. My friend was also entertained by their show, and had already thought up an excuse to pay an innocent visit to the station. At least I'm not THAT bad.

Yes, he really is that stupid.

And I married him. I've never been characterized as particularly brilliant ( unless it was said in jest ) either, but at least I didn't make the following ghastly mistake:

X accidentally sent me an email. It wasn't meant for me, but since he clearly forgot to delete my email address from his contact list under his pet name for me, it did in fact reach my inbox. It seems that I am not the only woman in X's life with PetName. He has managed to find another who shares all of my special qualities that made me so very lovely at first. He probably doesn't even realize that he's made such a blunder and I'll be damned if I'm going to say anything! This is good stuff and makes me feel ever so full of pride that I had the sense finally to rid myself of him.

I particularly enjoyed the content. He apologized for being such an "idiot" the other night. According to the email, there was a certain conversation after they "had sex," in which the NEW PetName mentioned that X was number 14. In men. Number 17 in humans. It seems that X's reaction to that information was less than positive. As I have mentioned before, we were both virgins when we were married. As far as I'm concerned, we are both still sexually uneducated. X is obviously working hard to learn something, which of course is a relief. I always thought I knew more than he did, but never said so. Anyhow, he must have acted like a judgmental asshole about NewPetName having more experience than he did. And this email was supposed to be some sort of apology, filled with excuses. He has low self-esteem. He wonders if she compares him to "all the other guys." He knows that she is the "sweetest" person and would never do that, but again. He has a low self-esteem.

I hate to say I TOLD him so, but I DID. I told him right before he left that I had a little bit of advice for him in case he is ever again lucky enough to attract the attention of some poor dumb young lady: Don't act like such an asshole. Don't act like she's not good enough for you. Low self esteem my ass.

But ooooooh no. He has to go and screw it up RIGHT after someone is kind enough to sleep with him. I have considered giving him a call or replying to the mistake, but I know I'd only lecture him on how I TOLD him BEFORE what he should do.... but of course he didn't listen. Which is another one of his defects.... and on and on.

But I don't want to. I don't care enough to bother. It was good to see that email. It is a reminder of what a fake he was before we got married. Give me a break with that low self-esteem crap, buddy. He acted the exact same way to me until I got sick of it. A woman does not want to be apologized to, she just wants her man to be nice in the first place!

San Francisco firefighters don't put up with what WE deal with every day

I am astounded that the firefighters who were cat-called during a gay parade are actually filing a complaint ( AP article here at sfgate.com ).

I have to listen to sexual comments all the time at my supposed professional job. I don't mean once a day either; it's more like several every day. Some are related to just women in general while others are pointedly directed at me or others. Let's be honest. If I were to file complaints every time I was harassed in a sexual manner at work, my career would be soon over. I'd be considered a troublemaker and maybe bipolar.. Of course these MEN aren't used to being sexually objectified and treated like a blow-up doll so naturally they feel the right thing to do is file a complaint.

The hypocrisy of it.

Sister in town. My vacation.

As usual, I've been in a terrible rush most waking moments for the past couple of weeks.

Now I'm on a short little vacation, during which I've been able to catch my breath and take stock of it all.

Good thing my sister is visiting for a few days. Otherwise I'd probably let my whole apartment stay cluttered. As it stands, I scrubbed the guest room and the main bathroom in the eight hours available to me from the time I arrived home from work until the time I had to pick her up from the airport. The rest of the place was fairly disgusting. Sister is a clean freak, so she was particularly irked by my messiness. I don't have any food in my fridge or the cupboards, so we've been surviving on coffee, one restaurant meal per day, and alcohol. Sis refuses to pay for any food, since she is my GUEST, but she has no problem buying beer and wine. I'll happily drink whatever she buys and I just pay for our restaurant meal. I have also been cleaning in the morning before we set out on our daily adventures.

As for our adventures, our main focus appears to be finding ways for Sister to spend money on herself, seeing as how she has so damned much of it. Today we trudged around one of the local malls for several hours. Sister claimed that she was absolutely determined to start dressing her age (37), but when it came right down to it, she is just as steadfast as ever about wearing junior section clothes. I had a dickens of a time trying to get her to try on anything that covered her "pooch," as she calls it. She won't wear anything that she classifies as tight. Oh, no. Because she doesn't want people to see her "pooch." I said, "I'm going to be brutally honest with you because I think you need to hear it. Ready."

Ready. Deer in headlights look with a couple blinks.... Here comes...

"You aren't hiding your 'pooch.' Everybody can see it anyway because you insist on wearing t-shirts that are too short for you."

"I hate going shopping, and just when I decide I can do it, you try to make me feel bad about myself." Sister started to tear up and get all red-faced. "I don't want you to tell me anything, I just want you to agree with me."


By the end of the day, I felt like a turncoat. But a girl's gotta do what needs to be done in order to keep the peace. She'll be here for two more days!

Stubborn resistance to "staying in the present"

Marty asked if I've been out on any dates in the past couple of weeks and was visibly annoyed when I said that I had not.

Why do therapists dole out assignments that aren't as easy as running over to the B&N self help section and flipping through a book? Even if I WANTED to find someone to see, am I supposed to just walk up to somebody and ask him out? Sheesh. Why should I waste my time on someone I'm probably not even interested in? Furthermore, I do quite like my uncomplicated life and I am decidedly against getting myself involved with anyone right now. I said as much to Marty. He explained that it was not about finding someone "interesting," or getting into a relationship, it was about the experience.

Men just don't understand. Everybody I know (women, that is) is pretty well conscious of what they think a future with their prospective dates will be like. Sometimes we kid ourselves by thinking everything will be beautiful and the guy is perfect. That's why our marriages don't work out. That's my theory, anyway. Marty disagrees. He thinks I'm the only one who does that, and what's more, I need to stay in "now," rather than the future. Does that mean I don't have to pay for car insurance until I get in a wreck? No, but how am I supposed to know what I am supposed to deliberately ignore?

So I guess if I want to move on in counseling, I have to find someone around here to go out with. Since X left, I've been out on one date. Quel mistake!

I could go on a blind date. According to friends, there are plenty of "great" guys they could "set me up" with. Still, it doesn't seem right, only meeting a person because your therapist prescribes it.

Poor Meriwether.

Spoilers of Undaunted Courage ahead, if you don't know much about Lewis and Clark.

Being a history buff, I am shocked that I didn't know the first thing about ML's unfortunate death. To be fair, the expedition was hardly covered in my high school and college history classes. What I learned came from a women's studies class, and only because I chose to write an essay on Sacagawea. I still don't remember finding out that Lewis went berserk after returning from the expedition. Speculation ranges from bipolar disorder to advanced syphilis. I doubt very much that Lewis was bipolar. It seems more likely that it was syphilis. That leads me to the question in my last post. I don't think Clark was gay, but I still think Lewis was. He just reminds me of all my gay friends from high school because they hadn't "come out" yet, and spoke just as he did about getting a wife. On the other hand, he may have been straight but just couldn't get anyone to marry him d/t his odd behavior and drunkenness. Who knows. Despite my curiosity, his sexuality is not important. What is important is that such an accomplished and intelligent person came to such a depressing end.

More on Meriwether...

Were Lewis and Clark gay? I'm not even half way through the book. But all the "men" have been getting laid by half the female American Indians who happened to be accidentally left alive ( and who were treated worse than dogs, I might add. Did all the work..) on their way towards the Pacific.

All these guys got (or had) syphilis and gonorrhea, which was apparently treated with mercury. But neither Lewis nor Clark mention in their logs that THEY personally suffered from the same symptoms. Furthermore, they haven't yet admitted having relations with anyone. Quite suspicious.

But they DO express a GREAT affection or at least admiration for each OTHER. I'll have to finish that book and fast!

Ding ding ding. Scuffle with annoying salesperson at the mall.

Yes.
It was all over a lousy pair of shoes. Niece and I were enjoying many fun-filled laps around the mall today in honor of her thirteenth birthday, when I spotted the most darling little shoes at a major department store, which I steadfastly refuse to name.

Are these or are these not cute or what, I said! I know! Niece and I both cooed and blabbered about them for a couple of minutes. I considered just buying them in case I **ever** have kids. Niece considered having me buy them for her when she someday has kids. We thought the joy would never end. Then I had a wonderful idea. Why not just take a picture of them? That way, you know, after my brother wins the lottery and I can afford to reproduce any shoes in the universe, I'll have all the info I need right here?! What could be more cost-effective and simple, I ask?

I whipped out the camera phone. Handed it to Niece so she could get it on the right screen for me, and once it was back, I aimed. Then I heard what has GOT to be the most hideous voice ever:

"Exc-aaaaaaa-ewwwwwwse me." Niece and I looked up with a start. I hadn't taken my golden, historic image yet. We blinked at a "sales" person, standing opposite us from the table of pink baby shoes. "Can I help you find something?" Niece giggled nervously. She acted guilty, of what I don't know.

I simply replied, "Nope" as I concentrated again on focusing the stupid phone. Click. Hm. Wasn't sure if that one was good. Pointed again. The shriek of polyester and Naturalizers in motion again, stretching to capacity, inflamed my already thinned nerves for the last time. Niece's increasing level of discomfort was more than noticeable. I was sorry for being any part of embarrassment to her . I looked at salesBitch again. She stopped waddling at my glare but wasn't smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

"May I ask what you are doing?"

"No. Get out of here unless I have a question," I barked, shooing her away with my free hand. Which wasn't technically free, since I had a facial exfoliating brush from Sephora in one of my shopping bags and as I shooed, the brush flew out of the bag and on to the table in front of me. SalesBitch thought it was just a ruse. The whole Sephora brush thing brought out the Inspector Gadget in her, and hell be damned if she wasn't going to get to the bottom of this caper. I picked my brush up, still wrapped in the well-paid for red tissue.

"See what you've made me do? What is WRONG with you, lady? Tell me. Is there a CRIME in taking a picture of a pair of SHOES on a TABLE in this STORE?" I shoved the brush back in the bag, grabbed my phone back from Niece, who had somehow gotten hold of it, and froze. At that point, I should have walked away. But nooooooo. SOMEbody was treating MH like she was a shoe thief or who the hell knows?

"I'll be right back," said the old hag. "Yeah, get one of your damn bosses out here, I want to have a talk with them."

Any bets on who showed up first? Of course, the "security" guy. Not really much of a threat to me, since I knew the guy. He was just a city police officer working some overtime, so take THAT, old hag. "Whaaaaaaazup?" says my old buddy. "Ooooooh man! This WOMAN is acting like I'm doing something wrong by taking a picture of some shoes! Niece! Find that picture I took! Show Winston what I'm talking about here."

Old Hag just sat there trying to say that I was "rude" when all she did was ask if she could help me find something. I turned to Old Hag and reminded her that she needed to find her boss.

Boss concluded that the whole thing a misunderstanding. Yeah. I know. BTW, here are those darling shoes....

Ouchie! Chris Dodd Factors in some schooling for Bill O'Reilly

The old boy could hardly breathe through all that blustering indignation when class began on the Factor. Senator Chris Dodd ( from the beautiful state of Connecticut ) pretty much spelled it out: Don't be hatin' on my peeps over at Daily Kos, mmmmmmmKAY?

Check out Crooks and Liars for the 411. So to speak. And somebody give the teacher an apple!