two midnights gone

Expect nothing of Greyhound and it may just surprise you.

Just because you have two capsules of Tylenol PM doesn't mean you should take two capsules of Tylenol PM.

If it looks like a dive, it probably is a dive.

A pillow can be the best gift.

If you find yourself in a bookstore overflowing with right wing trash, do not panic. Exit, turn the corner and proceed calmly into Kramerbooks for resuscitation (and to spend $40).

Slotted spoons don't hold much soup.

I'm serious about that Tylenol PM, man. Stuff's deadly.

Just because you had one of the best weekends ever doesn't mean you'll be good at blogging when you get back.

bosses do the darndest things

Boss (one of the nice ones): How late are you staying today?
Kate: Normal time.
Boss: No way. Not worth it. Leave with me at 2:45.

Done.

on internal repeat

I'm trying, trying to tell you
All that I can in a sweet and velvet tongue
But no words ever could sell you
Sell you on me after all that I have done...

I'm singing, "Oh Jerusalem, oh Jerusalem,
See what he's picked up in the park"
Let's fuck this awful art party
Want you to make love to me and only to me in the dark

link

drinking, justification for;
see also: unnecessary excuses

Whether because of a sudden crash from soaring caffeine highs or some karmic equivalence scheme whereby if Monday is bad during the day but wonderful at night then Tuesday must be delightful during the day and sour up in the evening, I'm feeling foul.

Today was fantastic, as work days go. The morning found me happy, if rushed, having made it to my deli for coffee before getting on the train, and kicking off the day's work by knocking out a project that, while admittedly could have been done by apes, still made me look good in the eyes of my boss, whose expectations had been outrageously lax.

A happier lunchtime was never had (with one exception): Jen and I ferried across the river for food and - gasp, on a Tuesday? - booze with Sir "My Life Presently Revolves Around Herb Butter" Fulminous. Post-margaritas, we suppressed giggles and flushed cheeks sufficiently to make our midafternoon meetings, and the work day was over in a flash.

All of which makes it a tricky thing to explain the discontent that flared a couple of hours ago. But whatever, I've never met a discontent I couldn't drink into submission.

funny, i was just thinking of writing something about jealousy

And here's Stan with yet another reason to draw my envious wrath.

now is not the time to play nice-nice

Howard Dean said that when I saw him speak in LA in the spring. He was answering a woman's question about talking politics with hard-right conservative nutjobs.

A few months earlier, when Stan was running for delegate to the Democratic National Convention, he said to the people in his district who had turned out to run or vote, "Dean gets a lot of bad press because he's so 'angry.' But you know what? We have a reason to be angry."

You wouldn't know there was anything to be angry about, from the "let the healing begin" speeches that proliferate in the aftermath of these contests. Winners and losers alike reassure us not to be angry. It's BS. No one should make the mistake of thinking Republicans want healing. No one should make the mistake of thinking they want anything but the implementation of a radical agenda, pushed through with all the might their increased influence gives them.

Now is not the time to play nice-nice. They're not going to. They're going to make Bush Term the First seem moderate. It's already begun, with a provision that will go a long way toward dismantling the right to choose, or rather dismantling the choice itself, by allowing clinics, hospitals, and all other health care providers to refuse, at whim and with impunity, abortions or abortion counseling to women.

I am emphatically not of the mind that a lost election means shipping off to another country is somehow a good idea. But if anything were to tip me over the edge, or at least tip me closer to the edge, it would be this. The decisions about what to do and not to do with my body should belong to me, not to a far-right Christian doctor or far-right Christian lawmaker or far-right Christian president or far-right Christian asshat stupidhead fuckface electorate, and living here means my body is at the mercy of the above-listed whether I vote it so or not.

(Two incidentals: firstly, that doesn't make me think moving out of the country as a - what do people pretend it is, a solution? a step in the right direction? a better way to change America? - as a post-election blues fix-it is any less ill-conceived. Secondly, I mention "Christian" here because it's relevant to the issue, not because I categorially hate Christians. If you don't believe me, ask my mother, the Reverend.)

The changes this provision will bring weren't voted into law on their own merits; the language was slid under the table and tacked onto a must-pass appropriations bill. This thing will go through. They play dirty. Now is not the time to play nice-nice. Let's call a spade a spade - and by "spade," I mean all the insults I listed about the electorate a couple paragraphs ago. Healing? I'm fucking enraged.

reactions to the tattoo

• Silence.
• Laughter.
• Incredulity.
• Shaking of heads.
• "Oh, wow."
• "Good for you."
• "Are you kidding?"
• "But what if you win the lottery or something, and then you decide you like being rich?"
• "When you're 80 and the rest of the world has gotten way more liberal than you, then you'll regret it."
• "When you're older and you're an anarchist or a socialist, then you'll regret it."
• "What if, okay, what if, say, it's twenty years from now, and you marry some guy who's, say, conservative, or moderate, or okay, let's say moderate to conservative, and then he sways your viewpoint, what then?"

What? Pictures? Oh okay, okay. One hour before and one hour after.

Ha ha, made you look.

indelible ink

I spent a long time in the mirror just now looking at that soft, smooth part of my left upper back, because it just occurred to me it's never going to look the same.

staaaaaaan

Fresh off a red-eye and ready to party.

Weekend, Stan edition, is about to begin. Stay tuned for the tattooing.

feeling wonky

I wasn't sad before I came home, but when I got here I became really sad.

Some fits of emotion of are utterly inexplicable.

I say this as someone who - it's been said by me as well as others - is incredibly self-analytical. If anyone were to posit an explanation, probably digustingly thought-out and pathetically self-crediting, for any state of mind, it would be me. But some fits of emotion are utterly inexplicable.

Ok, I take back "utterly." I'm replacing "utterly inexplicable" with "partially accounted for by demanding work, partially by an over-cluttered calendar, partially by anticipation of a long-overdue and much-needed visit from a friend, partially by drunkennness, but nonetheless mostly inexplicable."

So, some fits of emotion are partially inexplicable.

I think my point is getting more and more diluted.

Oh, I forgot "also partially accounted for by the destabilizing effects of my own ego, inflated self-esteem, and misplaced sense of self-worth." All of which mean the same thing but bear repeating, for some reason.

Um...

And "partially, too, or at least in all likelihood, traceable SOMEHOW to the menstrual cycle, I mean, let's be real here, it's probably PMS, no matter what the time of the month."

And "partially explained by some higher power punishing me for not believing in it."

...

...

... I think I got them all.

'Course, now I can't remember why I was all wonky in the first place.

God damn it.

The internet should really turn off when I'm drunk.

your two cents

Put 'er there.

Well, put 'er in the fields provided on the page there's a link to there, and then put 'er in the comments there so we can read 'er, too.

Thanks.

more depressing news having to do with leaders i don't like who came to office under questionable circumstances

The good news is that I received my college diploma; I'm officially a graduate.

The bad news is this.

Don't see it? Look closer.

the wrap-up round-up

Stan: no, really, how did this happen?

Bryan: what are moral values?

Seastreet: wrong guy, wrong methods.

Kos: retake the language.

Howard Dean: we will not be silent.

sleepiness: a recipe

Start with a sleepless night.

The next day, combine the following ingredients:

• 2 gigantic portions of comfort food (chicken pot pie).
• Beer (add to taste).
• 1 couch.
• 1 cat, sleeping on your lap.
• Crushing despair.

well

There it is.

I'll, uh. Be around.

go away

Media Matters for America - real-time posting of news networks' calls

Daily Kos - quick on the uptake with NEP exit poll numbers

CNN - poll closing times

oh shit

So the Associated Press is the only association counting the votes this year, and on this page are some FAQs about the process. As the raw vote is counted, vote count stringers will phone in to the AP's 16 vote collection centers, the largest of which is in Spokane, WA.

I had no idea.

I'm suddenly a smidge more nervous about this election.

Hey, I love Spokane. In a way. I spent 18 years there. Great parks. Nice place to raise kids. But I don't trust it on a political level. Any political level. Not with one vote, let alone the AP's largest vote collection center. This is a city that was lucky enough to be represented for a time by the third-most powerful politician in the country (Speaker Tom Foley) until they voted him out for a guy whose entire platform was "no more than two terms." (He went on to run for and win a third term.)

So in short: Spokane = pretty but stupid. Be afraid for your votes.

apathy is for dumb people

I wore it all day when California voted in the primaries. I still have it. I don't think they'd like it at work, but I'm wearing it in spirit.

click to enlarge.

november,
or,
the month in which to win back your country

God I'm so nervous.

Not, like, I don't think we can win nervous.

But like, I've been waiting for this for four years nervous.

Full of nerves. Nervous energy. Whatever.

God I'm so nervous I'm so nervous I'm so nervous I'm so nervous I'm so nervous I'm so nervous DAMNIT I'm nervous.