Last note of the year.........

Happy New Year, ya'll! Drink responsibly or drive carefully! Kiss someone cute!

Sent: Friday, December 30
To: M
Subject: YOU!

You picked a fine day to not be here for me, bitch. I slept horribly, woke up many times. Anyway, Rufus acted like a spoiled rotten brat all morning as Igot ready for work, barking at my socks sitting on my shelves---they ARE babies,right? They are up there so you can't get them, silly dog, and you're reallygetting on my nerves. Poured down rain as I ran to my Jeep. One of the slicesof bread fell out of my sandwich bag into a puddle as I got into my car and thenI dropped the bag THREE TIMES on my way into the building; turkey saladsandwiches on soggy toast don't hold up well when dropped multiple times. Thenwhen I got into the customer service area they'd already started JUNK FOODFRIDAY, no need to wait till lunch time when you can add to your girth thismorning. There's Krispie Kreme donuts everywhere, cookies, chips, the works. The place is all a buzz with the happy hum of ever expanding CS reps ecstaticthat their gullets will be stuffed ALL DAY in the name of what I'm sure willbecome a weekly occurrence. I can hear Darcy's hillbilly music seeping into mycube AND she's cackling like a mental patient. If she doesn't stop I'm going tohave to kill her (at least she's not burping again this morning ). Oh, and addto all that this super duper bonus: I have a sinus headache and I just ran outof dental floss.

Hmmm, maybe it's PMS.

This is going to be the longest day

Bad Santa

The Santa on the right has blackmailed me into posting his photo on my blog. He's dangerous, watch out.

Thank you, Jesus, for IM!

Me: The fatties are giving each other dieting tips.
Friend who used to work here but escaped: oh write them down for me
Me: Well, Shrek says eat if you're still hungry, even if you've just finished your meal.
Me: Brenda says carrots are an icky snack.
Me: Then they all chanted "hooray for junk food Friday" over and over.
Friend: lol
Me: I think they'll all be trim by spring.
Me: Now they're talking about eating babies
Friend: ew
Me: And dirt!
Me: Oh, wait, Shrek has a recipe for "Anything that's not nailed down" Casserole.
Friend: hahahahah
Me: I see a blog posting.

The upside of working in a cube environment.

+ or D*: The Year In Review

* This site doesn't recognize the delta sign, so that gets a D


Since they always make us to the “plus or delta” after any stupid, useless training at this dumb job, why not borrow it for a little personal year in review? See, we learn and grow!

+ Quit smoking!!!!!!!!!!
D Gained 3 lbs

D Gained 3 lbs
+ Lost 4 lbs!

D Didn’t get a boyfriend
+ Didn’t get an STD

D Didn’t get a raise
+ Did a fucking great job anyway, thank you very much! Hmm, but didn't get any recognition for my great work, so let's go ahead and give that a D, too.

D Didn’t get a new, better paying job
+ Didn’t lose this crappy job

+ Finished some artwork (one was a triptych, too!)
D Didn’t sell any of them, as they were both gifts.

+ Started back with my PaD (not a sanitary one, silly, photo a day http://www.pbase.com/invisibleink/pad2)
D Still a crappy photographer

+ Got a new camera
D Can’t blame my crappy shots on the camera anymore

+ Started a blog
D Huge potential to embarrass myself

D Don't live on the beach
+ Still living with the Roommate and loving it

D Didn’t spend the holidays with the family
+ Rather spend the 4 day weekend with the Roommate (best Xmas ever!)

D Rufus ate 2 pair of shoes
+ Got 2 new, great pair of shoes (on sale!)

D Only had one vacation
+ Went to Cancun and had the best vacation ever (cried on the way home)


So, all in all it was a fairly decent year, at least according to my “Pollyanna”-like plus and delta exercise. I’m looking forward to travel, fun with the Roommate, more art work, and a positive outlook for the new year. Here’s to a great 2006! Cheers!

I resolve...

One more for the road, Oslo............

It's that time of year when people all over the world make resolutions they know they have not a chance in hell of keeping, but it doesn't stop any of us, does it? The gym in January is packed to the gills with people who vow to lose 40 lbs and attain abs of steel, but "BIGTIME LAZY" always sets in and we won't be seeing them for another 11 months now will we. Well this year I have a resolution of my own, a special belated Christmas gift to the Roommate. I'm gonna stop drinking so much----wait, let me elaborate, I'm not going to drink myself to the point that I'm blackout drunk and then I pick a fight with him that I won't remember in the morning. Not that it happens often, just that it isn't necessary and a mostly recent occurrence. Of course this means I won't have as much fun passing out or spending way too much money on booze, but these are the sacrifices I am willing to take for the Roommate's sanity. Now all you nay sayers out there need to hear my reminder about QUITTING SMOKING last New Years and I'll be damned if any one of you has seen me with a cigarette since January 1st, 2005, so don't write me off yet. As a reminder I shall make this photo my screen saver; it's of the Roommate and I in Prague; we kinda went on a bit of a bender our last night there but you'd never be able to tell that from this photo.

Hmmmm, that picture is making me thirsty.........

Fight Club photo

This is what happens when grown men attempt Fight Club.

Oh, and I forgot..........

Add to #10, one broken Tiffany's box-chain necklace. 'Nuff said.

Bah humbug!

Keeping in the Christmas spirit, here is a short list of things I hate:

1. The peas in "cup o' noodles" ramen soup.

2. Zombie grocery shoppers who block entire aisles with their carts and their fat asses.

3. Fat asses.

4. Tard drivers.

5. When my roots grow in and there's a gray hair or two. Or 10.

6. Flat tires.

7. Bad Xmas gifts from folks who should know me better than that. You know who you are.

8. Running out of wine.

9. Wine hang overs on work days.

10. Fight club, and not the movie. It's the now famous activity that the Roommate and our friend Rusty engage in that causes broken glasses (attn: note the plural) and spilled cocktails, ripped shower curtains, one flooded bathroom, one each nude, wet Roommate and Rusty and one shiner. Thank god Rusty moved to Seattle because now it only happens every couple of months. Picture to follow.

More Hat Party Pics

Pictures of the fire dancer at the Hat Party at Chameleon. I promised my 2 readers more pictures and I deliver! And look, action shots!

Driving Miss Crazy

Seriously, what were we thinking? We had been out the night before at a Christmas party (free food and drink) and then a movie wrap party (free booze) and amazingly enough we woke up with tremendous hangovers at about 1 pm yesterday. Imagine that. So, what does one do when one has a hangover? Does one go to the gym (as I suggested)? Hell no, one must eat greasy food and wash it down with something with booze in it so I pulled a hat over my unwashed hair (that happened to be sticking up all over the place) and off we went to the Rhinelander. Incredibly bad service and marginal food at best, but it's kinda the punishment we needed and deserved. The Roommate had spilled his complimentary mulled cider all over the table and had to ask the waitress two times to wipe it up, and then she invited him to go get some more for himself. Well, the Roommate does not stand for bad service from the service industry, so as he got up to get himself some more cider he asked the waitress if he could get her anything while he was up. Dumb woman didn't even realize she had been winged. So after the painfully bad experience we decided to do our shopping for Christmas Eve dinner. Only we kinda never made it because there was a bar between us and the grocery store. Our bartender, I shall call her Dixie since I can't remember her real name and she's from Tennessee, was quite pleasant and we enjoyed her company quite a bit so we ended up staying for four rounds. Then off to the grocery store. Only our friend Pat's restaurant, the Chameleon, is so close. It's 5:00 by now and the Chameleon doesn't open till 5:30 but do you think that stops us? Hell no, the Roommate scratched on the window until bartender extrodinare Benjamin, lets us in. Did I tell you that Rufus has been in the Jeep all this time? He has, poor dear. You'd think by now he'd know that "ride in car" means "sit your ass all alone in car", but no, he was all for it when we started out this afternoon. So we stay at the Chameleon until around 8:30 because friends keep showing up, but then we had to go because the Roommate was supposed to meet his friend for "strip Jeopardy" that evening and by this time my lights are on but no one's home anyway, so might as well pass out. Rufus drove our drunk asses home and poured me into bed. Thank god he's a talented dog. So that meant that I got to get up this morning to take Rufus to our friend's house to let their dog out while she's away for the holidays and then.................I got to go to the grocery store. Merry fucking Christmas, every tard in the world is out. I should have sent Rufus in to shop for me, but I guess I deserved the punishment.

And on that note let me just say Santa's coming, Merry Christmas to all! Have a festive holiday season and make sure you have a designated driver dog along for the ride!

"It's my lucky day!"

So, here in the Portland area we received a fun gift from the county government (via a public vote---fools!) called the Multnomah County Personal Income Tax, which allows citizens of Multnomah County the pleasure of not only paying Federal and State income tax, but we also get to pay an additional 1% of our gross income to the county as well! Yea! Less money for me, and if you know anything about my dog, I need every penny I make in order to replace all the Roommate's property Rufus destroys. Anyway, the first year we got the privilege to pay this extra income tax was 2003 and I kinda thought the entire concept was rude, so I ignored it. Funny thing is the county still expected me to pay it, so they decided to charge me MORE OF WHAT THEY KNEW I DIDN'T HAVE and added interest and penalties to the fee. I caught that clue and paid the tax but wrote on the check that I had no intention of paying the interest and penalty, my reasoning being that I didn't care to, thank you very much. The county was very nice about sending me a reminder every month for the past two years letting me know that I still owed them "$202, please pay or we will be sad", but somehow those notices always ended up in the paper shredder---I'm blaming it on Rufus. So anyway, about a week ago they sent me one last letter, this one from the county attorney, stating that if I didn't pay $868.49 by December 22nd, there would be a warrant out for my arrest. So today, on the 21st I called. I spoke to a nice lady who asked what my concern was and I told her I already paid my taxes. She said she'd look into it and put me on hold; I filed my nails as I waited. The nice lady then came back and said there was a mistake and to disregard. I asked her how much I still owed and she said she was going to waive the interest and penalties. What? I owe nothing, nada, zilch? She said it would be waived. WAIVE AWAY, TOOTS! So, the lesson of this story is, DO PUT OFF TILL TOMORROW, because it will be WAIVED AWAY by the nice lady at Multnomah County Tax Office.

Merry Christmas to me.

The annual Hat Party

My friend Pat (pictured with The Roommate) owns The Chameleon restaurant and is known not only for great food but also the world class parties he throws. Every December he hosts his Hat Party at his restaurant, featuring of course a hat contest among other attractions (more on them later because there's PICTURES GALORE!) Anyway, the Roommate wore the hat I made him two years ago for his surprise birthday party (also held at the Chameleon---thanks again, Pat) but as you can see from the pictures he's not the only one wearing a fabulous creation. Mucho fun-o, as are all Pat's parties (Halloween, Valentine's Day and New Year's Eve amongst them). Cheers to Pat and his crew!

And now a weather update......

It started snowing! In the last two winters we've been shut-ins because of ice storms twice, once each year, so we beat feet to the store. Like almost everyone in this area the Roommate and I decided to stock up on essentials because of the weather: a quick trip to the video grocery stores. We picked up the basics, some movies (Ice Storm had just been checked out, drat) as well as wine, cookies and cheese. Looks like we'll be staying in today and may get out of work tomorrow as a special bonus! It's a Christmas miracle!

Let is snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Have yourself a merry little pub crawl

Now normally this time of year I am all about Christmas, a right jolly old elf. Typical Decembers find me laboring over selecting the perfect gift for every person on my list, making cookies and planning the big Christmas Day meal, joyously writing greeting cards and just brimming with general holiday cheer. Oddly enough, I just don’t have the spirit this year, that having been replaced with a major case of the "bah humbugs". In fact there seems to be a total lack of general holiday cheer in our household:

Me: What do you want to do for Christmas?
The Roommate: Get it over with.

So, in an effort to force the holiday spirit into our drab and joyless lives we decided to make a stop into Virginia Café, a downtown bar, for an event known as “SantaCon”. Haven’t heard of it? It is an annual pub crawl described as “a not-for-profit, non-political, non-religious & non-logical Santa Claus convention”; how the world wide event works is a city is picked and Santas from all over the world converge for an all-day and all night pub crawl. The roommate and I were informed of our local version of the Santa pub crawl here in Portland last week by our bi-polar bartender as we got liquored up before a movie so decided to make a stop back to check it out. What’s not to love about this concept: you dress up in a Santa suit (this part is required otherwise it’s just your average pub crawl) and you follow the lead Santa (with a bull horn for Santa herding) from bar to bar and hand out candy and trinkets to legally drinking-aged “children”. There’s nothing like the experience of a bar full of drunk Santas, I guess because they are just a little more cheerful than your average mid-day bar guest. Drunk Santas are very gracious about posing for pictures and tend to hand out “Ho ho ho”s like beads at a Mardi Gras parade. They also don’t mind being gawked at but I guess that comes with the territory. I asked a couple of cute Santas if I could take their photo and I was told only if I gave one of them my phone number and he got it; normally I wouldn’t just hand out my number to a drunk in a bar (call me prudish) but somehow it seemed ok for me to give it to a stranger dressed as Santa. One Santa came in from the blustery wind to say he had just run across a small child who was gazing at him in wonderment. When this Santa told the child that he wasn’t “the real Santa”, just a helper, he said the child’s face lit up, proclaiming “That’s what my mom said!”. Upon entering the drinking establishment and being unexpectedly greeted by the bizaar sight of 50 or so Santas, one man exclaimed (in a fake Brooklyn accent, no less) “Oh no, this is a SANTA bar! I’m outta here” adding “we don’t like your type” as he giggled and made his way to the bar. After many shots of Jagermeister, the lead Santa announced that it was time to proceed to the next stop, so the Santas moved out onto the street where amazed and confused holiday shoppers stopped in their tracks and puzzled as the red and white river of Santas moved down the street. Although the Santa experience didn’t elevate my holiday spirits to my usual level, it was a fun and unusual (to say the least) event. The Roommate and I vowed to find Santa suits and join the crawl next year because the best way to pub crawl is dressed as St Nick. In fact maybe I'll design special Santa suits with a space man theme or something. See, I'm making myself get a head start on next year's holiday spirit.

Oh my god! Three's a charm!

Bonus post! Here's an IM conversation with a coworker from today:

coworker: is that a cusomt with Ethernet?
me: Lemme check
coworker: it is
coworker: i see it
me: Yes
me: Crystal Ball?
coworker: 8 ball
me: Oh, yeah, you do have one of those on your desk. Didn't know they worked for telecom.
coworker: yes
me: Speaking of desks, http://paganmonster.blogspot.com/
me: I have a blog.
coworker: my day just got brighter
me: It should.
coworker: jesus. you can type
me: I can and I do. And sometimes I even spell correctly.
me: Other times, not so much.
coworker: i wna tot kill customers that ask me if i'm sure
coworker: i want this cunts address. she's on my list
me: Pissed much?
me: It's a guy.
coworker: I SEE RED
me: He's a monk
coworker: oh
coworker: shit
me: Be nice to him, he's best buds with the big guy.
me: And the big guy can fuck you up.
coworker: yeah i'm taking all that back

This just might be a violation of the company's "electronic correspondence" policy.

Fun e-mail time!

Got this e-mail today and thought I'd share it with the world:
This is fun. Hope I receive it back from you. Read through the commentsbelow about your friend and then make sure you read the instructions atthe bottom Have fun!
1 What time is it? 2:22 when I started but since I had to stop and actually work for a little bit, 2:45 now
2. Full name: Susan Carol Anna *****
3. Piercing: Yes, ears
4. What is the most recent movie that you seen in a Movie Theatre - Capote
5. Where were you conceived? - Not sure, wasn't really paying attention
6. Place of birth: - Reading PA, home of the railroad of the same name.
7. Favorite New Food : Cheese or Jack Daniels, depending on if I'm really hungry or not.
8. Ever been to Africa: Nope, I hear it's hot there.
9. Ever been toilet papering rolling: No, I am now and always have been a model citizen.
10. Love someone so much it made you cry: All the time
11. Been in a car accident: None that were ever bad, but who the hell hasn't been in a fender bender?
12. Croutons or bacon bits: Both, but if I was only allowed one, Croutons if the Roommate made them.
13. Favorite day of the week: Friday, I like looking forward to the weekend.
14. Favorite Restaurant: Bernie's Southern Bistro
15. Favorite Flower: dahlias
16. Favorite sport to watch: Golf---NOT! Ice Skating
17. Favorite Drink: wine
18. Favorite ice cream: Don't eat ice cream
19. Disney or Warner Brothers: Disney, always been a fan
20. Favorite fast food restaurant: Popeye's!!!!!!
21. What color is your bedroom carpet: brown/green/gold throw rugs covered in white dog hair
22. How many times you failed your driver's test? Never have, I'm saving that for when I'm elderly
23. Before this one, from whom did you get your laste-mail: A monk who is a customer of mine.
24. What do you do most? Pick my nose
25. Bedtime: usually between ten and eleven
26. Who will respond to this e-mail the quickest? Michelle
27. Who is the person you sent this to that is leastlikely to respond: My ex husband, mainly because I'm not sending it to him
28. Who are you the most curious about their responsesto this questionnaire? Mark, he's a hoot
29. Favorite TV shows: Extras
30. Last person you went to dinner with: The Roommate
31. Ford or Chevy: JEEP
32. What are you listening to right now: My coworker droning on and on and on. And Rufus Wainwright and Aimee Mann, of course.
33. What are your favorite colours: Greens, all of 'em
34. How many tattoos do you have? One, a really bad one on my bootie Got it in New Orleans, nuff said.
35. How many pets do you have? Household wise 3, monster-dog Rufus, mean-ass Kittie Pooter and Froggie, who oddly enough, is a frog. I also have a cockatiel Howard, but she lives with the ex
36. Which came first the chicken or the egg?: Neither, the Easter Bunny leaves them
37. How many people are you sending this e-mail to: only a few close loyal friends who will ignore it and delete immediately.

So far no responses.

Spreading Xmas Cheer Germs

This time of year always brings a curious tradition to the work place---the handing out of holiday cards (I omitted the "Christmas" from the "cards" simply to piss off the religiousright, re: wrong). Now, although the issuing of holiday greetings is certainly something I do do (hee hee, I said doo doo) what gets me is when I get cards from not only people I don't really know well at all but also from those select coworkers who I routinely go out of my way to avoid on a daily basis. And you know who you are, you come into my work stall and drop the card on my desk as though I'm not sitting RIGHT THERE pretending to work. Do you even know my name, because you didn't write it on the envelope? Is it politeness that forces these people to wish holiday good tidings on basically total strangers? I mean, that's something I'd do, the old hold over from that find upstanding Catholic upbringing---"it's just what you do". But even I don't do it. The cynical side of me prefers to think that it's all a popularity drill, Marsha Brady gone wild. You give out cards in a race to see how many you get back, despite the fact that they come from people you dislike and perhaps the additional insult of receiving cards from "Jane Peterson" although "the Robbins Family" has been scratched out on the inside of the card. Well, I fell for it last year (handed out cards with a martini on the front and "Get polluted this Xmas" on the inside) but this year I'm not playing along. I'LL SHOW YOU ALL! No cards for you! (Please note the green card above, second from the left---that's the alien baby of a coworker. Ugly children shouldn't grace greeting cards.)

Welcome to Banana Republic, CAN I help you?

Saturday, shopping downtown at Banana Republic:

Roommate: Excuse me, do you sell braces?
Salesman, very young and very blond: Uh, braces?
Roommate: Yes, braces.
Salesman: ???
Roommate: Braces. Suspenders.
Salesman: Oh, like suspenders?
Roommate: Yes.
Salesman: Oh, I don’t know if we have them.
Pause
Roommate: You don’t know.
Salesman: Maybe over in belts?
Roommate, pointing to salesman’s nametag with a sarcastic smile on his face: OH, I’m sorry, I thought you WORKED here.
Roommate drops his smile, pauses a second and turning on his heals, walks away.
Salesman, pointing to his own name tag as well: ???????
Me: uncontrollable laughter, described as “cackle”.

The FIRST Time I Met a Demi God

For those of you who know me know I LOVE Rufus Wainwright (putting it together now, are you? Rufus the singer, Rufus the dog…..), he is basically my Grateful Dead. I’ve seen him 9 times now in the last three years, 3 times in Portland, once each in Seattle, San Diego, Santa Barbara, Vancouver BC, and twice in LA (one of those times he opened for kd lang at the Hollywood Bowl---how cool is that?). Anyway, long ago I introduced the Roommate to Rufus’s music so he has been my companion for each and every show and our first road trip to see him perform was a one man show in Santa Barbara for their “Sing Like Hell” series at the Santa Barbara Symphony house. I wanted to go to that concert SO BAD so I checked Ticketmaster to no avail, then checked all the other ticket outlets but still no sign of the concert. I called the symphony house and they said the concert was sold out (!) and the concert was part of a series so there were no more seats available (hall only seated about 600---so intimate! I tell the Roommate that we can probably get backstage, huh?). I then tried a couple of ticket brokers and still nada. As a last resort I put an ad in the Santa Barbara paper stating I wanted to buy tickets. A few days went by and no calls until I got home from work one day and there was a message on my answering machine from a nice British man saying he had seen my ad, had tickets for the entire series but was going to be out of town for the concert I was interested in and did I want his? He would sell them to me for face value and they were second row on the aisle. My reply? HELL YEA! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? So I called him and got his address and sent him a check and my address and a few days later the glorious tickets arrived at my door. In the envelope was also a note from the nice British man saying the wine concession lady was a friend of his and if I mentioned his name she’d “take care of us”. Bonus! Three favorite things in the world: a) Roommate b) Rufus Wainwright C) wine, and not necessarily in that order. We get our last minute flights with miles (another bonus) and we are set. We fly to LA; while the Roommate is in the john I upgrade our rental to a convertible and we are on the road to Rufus. We are so hip! We are so LA! We are so Tragic (note the capitol “T”). On the way we stop for a fifth of Jack for the road and I am the mixologist---in the front seat, with the top down. Once we get to our hotel in Santa Barbara we prepare go cups for the pool and nap in the sun. We get ready for the show and go to the main strip (is that downtown Santa Barbara? Could someone look that up for me please?) and decide shots of tequila and sushi are in order before the show. Who the hell drinks tequila with sushi? That’s mixing cultures---is that allowed even? We stumble to the venue and find our wine lady and then somehow the Roommate ends up backstage in the green room. Don’t ask me how, he has his ways. We make it to our seats and they are in fact second row only smack dab in front of the piano. Yea! So close we could spit on him. I almost wet my pants when Rufus comes out on stage. WARNING: SO CLOSE! STALKER IS SO CLOSE TO HER DEMI GOD! We thoroughly enjoy the concert (one of his best I think) and after the show we are all invited to the garden to mingle with Rufus. THE RUFUS. The Roommate worms his way to the front of the crowd and gets Rufus to give him an autograph using his chest to lean on. I’m way in the back trying to get a photo (being polite “Carol”, what the Roommate calls me when I act too polite) which doesn’t work so well. Then the Roommate makes me go up to Rufus and tells the Demi God “Can we get a picture, please? She came all the way from Portland”. Turns out Rufus has a soft spot for Portland so I get the honor of the above photo. It happens to be the ABSOLUTELY WORST photo of ME ever, and not a great one of Rufus either, but I’M THAT CLOSE—TOUCHING EVEN!! It looks like his arm is around me but actually he was holding his cigarette away from my hair. How sweet of him, so thoughtful. So I’m very proud of this photo and grateful that the Roommate pushed me at Rufus, I now have this great memento. By the way, this is only the first time I met Rufus-----and no restraining orders yet! Yea ME!

"I'm king of the world!"

Yesterday Rufus had a play date with his friend, a black lab named Guinness, so I loaded him into the Jeep and off we went into the soggy morning. Rufus, being the dog he is, likes to ride with his head out the window, even in the rain, so I partially unzip the passenger side window for him. I say partially because this dog has been known to jump out of moving cars. Yesterday he was particularly excited about the "ride in the car" because I told him he was going to get to run around like a maniac with Guinness, so he kept his head out the window longer than I expected. I snapped this shot while I drove down the street. Yep, I'm all about safety and minding the rules of the road. And as I took the shot I thought "I'm king of the world, Rose". And then last night "Titanic" was on HBO, probably for the millionth time. Cosmic connection? Doubtful.

And yes, the two dogs ran around like mental patients for two hours, and properly wore each other out.

Please pardon my flying olive...

Thursday I went to an Alzheimer’s benefit sponsored by a local restaurant. A friend is an employee of said restaurant (ok, I’ll give them their props, McCormick & Schmick’s---if you’re ever in P-town check them out) and I got a special invite to hang with the “accounting crowd” so who could pass that up? Actually they are more fun than you’d expect from bean counters so it was a no-brainer, so I met Tammy and the gang for the festivities. The party’s theme has something to do with martinis, all proceeds from martini sales go to the Alzheimer’s Foundation, as well as the raffle sales. A director from her company bought us drinks (shout out to my new “boyfriend”, Dan) and a couple of raffle tickets and the buzz constantly was about he $10 K giveaway (!) which I knew had something to do with the 7 raffle tickets I clutched all night. When the raffle was finally called I made my way through the crowd to where the evening’s MC was awaiting the calling of 10 lucky numbers, and FYI, any one of the 7 in my fist would do, thank you very much. The first six numbers were called and as past experience with “luck” has proven, none were mine until then O H M Y G O D, my number----wait, shitfuckhell, one digit off. Damnit. This damn raffle is rigged. Why do I even bother, wait---me, ME ME!!!!! Only three more spots left and number eight was MINE! Yippie! I have a one in ten chance for TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. Sweet, lovely Xmas all around. iPODs for the nieces and nephews, even the 2 year old. What the hell, even Rufus gets one. Then they lined up all the lucky raffle winners, cool, no prob. I’m wondering if they then take those tickets and put them in a pot and chose one of us to walk away with the cash? Surely that’s how this is going to go, right? But no, I realize the drawing has simply gotten us to the next level, which is the Olive Toss. We have to toss an olive into a martini glass from 20 feet away. Twenty feet, people! And not only that, there are other restrictions; the pimento must stay in the olive once it is in the glass and the airborne olive can not bounce off the wall, table or anyone standing near the glass. Not so easy all of the sudden. We are all given a “practice shot”, mine being the olive to land closest to the glass---about 3 inches to the right. Easy….piece of cake……I can do this. So then the first contestant is up for her toss; she lets loose and it lands a foot in front of the table, shy 3 feet from the glass. The next person is up for the toss and the MC announces there is only one $10K prize, so if contestant #2 makes it, we don’t even get a chance to win. Damn, time to send some bad mojo to the contestants ahead of me. I think to myself “hatehatehatehatehate” and cross my fingers. The second contestant throws and hits the wall, narrowly missing the camera man. The third contestant strikes out so #4 is now up. She shoots, she scores! Wait, it bounced off the wall, disqualified! I still have a chance. Numbers 5, 6 and 7 all have bad throws so now it’s my turn. I throw and hit the table a good 6 inches to the right of the glass---and double whammy---the pimento bounces out of my olive to boot. Guess that mojo backfired on me. Number nine and ten also miss, shocking I know, so the game is over. I go back to the bean counters and Tammy asks how I did. “Missed” I tell her, iPODs for no one. Then she tells me that in the history of this benefit no one, NO ONE, has ever won. Evidently it’s near impossible, although the restaurant buys an insurance policy for $1K to cover the $10K prize, in the rare event that someone does get the olive in the glass. I should have known better, I don’t even drink martinis and no big fan of olives, either, come to think of it.

I told the MC that I was practicing for next year’s competition; I do have a full 12 months to hone my skills. I’m walking away a winner come Olive Toss, 2006; kids, go ahead pick out your iPODs now.

The Time the Roommate Gave Me Cancer

Pull up a chair, this one’s gonna be long.

Because I’m just that sweet, I took the Roommate to Cancun for his birthday (am I not the best friend ever?) and when we arrived at the airport there we were approached by a local who inquired as to whether we needed a taxi to our resort. I had arranged for a taxi already so the man asked where we were staying and if we had planned any tours before hand. Since we had not he suggested different places we should visit while in the area and told us what we should expect to pay and gave us advice as to what was a good price and not to allow ourselves to be taken. He then let us know we could take all 4 tours he had described for free if we sat through a presentation for the new, and ever expanding, Moon Palace Resort (ta daaa!). I was all ready to say “thanks, but no thanks” because I'm really not the time share type, when the Roommate piped in with “sounds like a good idea”. Once I recovered from the shocking realization that I was going to have to give up some of my precious sitting-on-the-beach-drinking-fruity-cocktails time and then end up buying a time-share I can’t afford, I decided to go along with it, since this WAS the Roommate’s birthday gift, we should do what he wants and all. So the man tells us to take a taxi the next morning, to say we would only pay $18 American for the ride and we would be given $20 once we arrive at the resort. The next morning we do as we are told, get to the most beautiful and splendid resort ever and are refunded our taxi money as promised. We are then introduced to our personal tour guide and are ushered into the dining room for our complimentary breakfast---and we ain’t talking “continental breakfast”, this is the biggest and most impressive breakfast buffet ever imagined. There’s an entire buffet dedicated to omelets, another to crapes, there’s a bar buffet (of course my favorite) where you make your own mimosas or bloody marys, and basically every breakfast food imaginable and a whole lot that you wouldn’t even think would constitute as something you would eat at that hour. Our tour guide leaves us alone to enjoy our meal in peace and the Roommate and I discuss how we are amazed by such a spectacular spread. We notice that there are quite a few targets amongst the diners, many, many targets that are about to get the hard sell for a time share they cannot afford. We are not alone.

After a while our tour guide joins us with a small plate of food and a cup of coffee. For purposes of this story we will call her Maria, because it’s easy to spell and I really can’t remember her name. She asks us where we’re from, what we do for a living. We engage in such chit chat for a bit and it is very clear that the Resort coaches their guides to be very professional and at ease when speaking with guests/prospective marks. After Maria makes sure we have eaten all we possibly can, she starts telling us about the Palace Resorts, Moon Palace being the newest and most fabulous. She tells us that there is so much to do there, snorkeling in their man-made rivers and off the coast of their man-made beach, golf, tours, etc. Palace Resorts are “all inclusive”, meaning you eat all you want for free, drink until you can’t drink any longer, for free (which is quite the bargain for the Roommate and I) and basically that once you arrive, you really never need to leave the sprawling grounds your entire visit. Moon Palace has evidently spared no expense to make it the most wonderful place on the face of the planet. Maria asks if we’d like to see the property, and when we say yes, she summons a young man to fetch our coach, which is a nice, new golf cart with a roof and all. Maria takes the wheel and drives us through the “villages”, specific themes of accommodations for “families”, “singles”, “golfers”, etc. Maria shows us the “game pavilion”, the golf course, the beach area. She shows us the different values of rooms, ranging from very nice to over the top deluxe. This expansive tour takes the better part of the morning.

During our tour, we stop on occasion for the Roommate to take a smoke break. Maria asks if I smoke and I reply that I had recently quit. She commends me on my will power and asks if it was difficult. I simply reply that it was “just time to quit”, so I did. A little while later we are walking the grounds and I cough a little and Maria asks me if I’ve got a cold. I just brush it off as “must be allergies” and leave it at that. We continue the tour and end up in a large room where we are offered cocktails and given a seat, side by side, at a small table. Maria sits across from us with a glass of water, where she begins her pitch. She tells us the prices, that we can stay at any Palace Resort, etc., all inclusive, isn’t the place beautiful and isn’t it a great bargain? We agree. Maria tells us we would pay a certain amount every month for 3 years and then our time share is completely paid up except for certain fees when we actually use the facilities. That’s nice we say. She asks if we are ready to join the Palace family and we tell her politely that we aren’t interested. She throws another set of numbers at us and asks if that is more acceptable. We again politely decline. She then gives us her super duper special pricing and asks if that would better fit our budget. We again decline her generous offer. When she again asks how we could decline such a great offer, the Roommate simply replies “I’m going to level with you Maria, it’s a great offer and definitely something we’d be interested in but she’s got cancer and this is probably our last vacation together”. I’m confused, who’s “she”? Then I finally catch up---the SHE is ME and I HAVE CANCER. The look of shock registers on my face and the Roommate, who by no surprise to you I’m sure, is in sales, says “I know I promised we wouldn’t talk about this on this trip, I’m sorry” and he puts his arm around my shoulder, comforting me. I think that I’m going to cry and my eyes actually tear up. Not only do I have cancer but we weren’t going to mention it and now we have! I look at Maria and I can tell she’s putting it all together----my coughing, giving up smoking---and she tells me gently “I’m so sorry” and says she will let us get on with our vacation but that she has to have her manager come over---she again apologizes but it’s a technicality and all and the Roommate asks Maria not to tell the manager about the BIG C and she says “of course”. The manager comes over, she’s a real Battle Axe, and gives us more pricing and actually writes the numbers up side down while she gives us the pitch. Again the Roommate declines several offers and the Battle Axe says she has to bring over HER manager. She gets up and Maria excuses herself and goes with the manager. Then the Big Manager comes over, a man this time, and starts to give us his pitch. I think “how do people get out of here without signing”? Then I notice the Big Manager looking over the Roommate’s shoulder, to where Maria is standing with the Battle Axe. The Battle Axe gives the “cut” sign, slashing her hand across her neck, and the Big Manager says thank you and we’ll get you those tour vouchers. Maria has told the Battle Axe about the BIG C after all and we are saved and free to go! After the Big Manager leaves I ask the Roommate “so I’m terminal?” and he simply replies “yes, and your cancer got us tours”.

So we went to the ruins at Tulum (see picture above) Chichen Itza, Xcaret, Tulum, Isla Mujeres, a jungle tour and snorkeling, all on a little terminal cancer. Best vacation of my tragically short life and it was all because of the Roommate. On a side note, I LOVE CANCUN AND THE JUNGLES AROUND IT and strongly suggest you go and see the sites.

And that, my friends, is how the Roommate gave me cancer in Mexico.

Give the people what they want!

All it took was a couple comments about the hot Roommate (ok, so it was just one comment, but who's counting?) for me to take the bait and bite again. So here you go, enjoy---and there's more where that comes from! I'll post more later.....remind me to tell the story about how the Roommate gave me cancer in Mexico.......