Where Am I Going, And Why Am I In This Handbasket?

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

The LOST War Has Begun.

I'm starting a LOST WAR at home. Maybe you can play too.

I mentioned that I'd tackled and pinned Chris down the other day, and explained all the wonderful reasons why he should totally watch LOST, especially since I SACRIFICE my own eyeballs, and ultimately my MIND, when I watch all those bullshit B-movies and the monstergaragespaghettiwesterncookingshow bullshit I volunteer to subject my generous and loving and GIVING soul to, JUST to be near my darling - and he can't even stay in the fucking house when LOST is on. That he leaves. LEAVES! Even after my moving argument (imagine my pleading eyes, on the verge of tears as I begged my future husband to sit with his adoring & devoted fiance and watch one lil TV show)...he just shrugged and said, "Nope". Hahaha bastard.

No matter. After his disappointing answer, I calmly took my elbow off his chest, took my knee off his belly, stood up and walked away slowly. Somehow I knew, even then, that my battle had just begun.

AND - as if on cue, as if the gods above were announcing that they were in my corner, on the RIGHTEOUS SIDE of the battle between Relationship Good & Evil...on the very top of the mag stack at work, where the ad department piles the rags we advertise in, yesterday appeared the latest edition of Men's Health magazine.


Of which its cover will soon be gracing our fridge at home.


BRING IT, old man.




Oh, and some funny news. Girlfight here prefers lesbo lockdown over donning an orange vest and picking up litter on the side of the highway, apparently:

April 26, 2006
Michelle Rodriguez going to jail
Michelle Rodriguez pleaded guilty yesterday to driving under the influence and opted for five days of jail time rather than 240 hours of community service. She been ordered to return to court later today where she'ill be taken into custody and transported to a women's facility in Oahu.
It makes sense she would choose jail over community service since she always looks like she just got ouf of prison anyway. You can't look the way she looks and not enjoy the lesbian prison sex. Science won't allow it.
-The Superficial

(Is it wrong that I still think she's kinda hot?)

Posted by Marci Twitches :: 11:15 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Tourette's Guy

So naturally, I'm on myspace.com

I signed in this morning to a new Friend Request. Since I don't capriciously click on the Accept button (ooooh I'm such a bitchy myspace snob), I decided to check out this dude first. His name is Tourette's Guy.

Okay, I know it's a serious affliction and I have much sympathy for those who are stuck with it. One might even deduce from my own myspace name that I've had a brush with certain O.C. tendencies in my life (I mean, The Twitch was my fucking nickname in high school. You should have seen me through puberty. Sigh). BUT if Tourette's Guy can see the humor, then I sure as shit am gonna allow myself to guffaw at work as I try to save my ass from getting fired because I didn't hit the Mute button on time. You might lose your job after your humorless PC coworkers hear all the cussing that booms from your soulless cube-hole, but it might be worth it.
So I just had to send him a Fuckin Great To Meet You note. I said Hullo, told him about a cousin of mine who had Tourette's as a child and asked him some questions, and mentioned a favorite novel called Motherless Brooklyn that he might like. I can tell this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship:

TOURETTE GUY'S RESPONSE:

I am very-FUCKIN GOD DAM IT-to hear about your-SON OF A BITCH-cousin,I hope my -ANAL SHOE SNOW-story can help all-SON OF A BITCH FASHIONBUG- thanks

Oh! There are no words. Just my giggles. I wonder if TG went to this school:


Posted by Marci Twitches :: 10:36 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Fresh Fish and Fresh Steppies

On Saturday I took Steptwerp #1 to see Nick Sterling, an AMAZING guitar prodigy (and his namesake!). This kid has been playing since he was a wee lil thang and he's about 16 now - I saw him a few years ago and he blew me away. Once Nick started learning the guitar last summer I vowed to take him to see one of his shows. We finally had the chance over the weekend and I was astounded at how much better he'd gotten. He was stretched out and tall, wearing skintight jeans and black Chuck Taylors - adorable. His trademark long blonde hair was now straight and shiny and down to his ass - fanning out all over as he hunched over his guitar. It was so groovy. And he was so damn cute. Politely thanking the crowd, smiling shyly when we cheered. It was too much. The old-fashioned parentalish gal in me was impressed at his manners. Hahaha. I'm fucking old is what I am.

So even though Nick was impressed and we had our eyes glued to the stage, during the break a tiny blonde teenypopper bumbed into him and he leaned over to say OOOPS or Excuse Me, or so I thought. Next thing I knew the twerp was playing pool with the girl. Holy shit he works fast. I was super scared. Turns out she was an 8th grader. ACK ACK ACK. As they flirted and played a halfass game of pool I racked my brain at the different deadbolt options I could tastefully line his bedroom door with. And what kind of alarm system I could get for the patio door that leads from his bedroom to the outer world, where petite Lolitas await in the shadows to ensare my Stepkid.

Back to the guitar show. Nick Sterling covers Satriani & Stevie Ray Vaughn to perfection, in their own styles. He doesn't cover pussy music - he dives into the great greats, including a kickass version of Hot For Teacher. I was laughing my ass off and how much fun I was having. He wrote all the music and played all the instruments on a recent album that he completed before his 15th fucking birthday. It's shocking how good this kid is. Even while I was having an internal Puberty Panic, I managed to dig the show.


Sterling alternated between no fewer than 10 beautiful guitars during the 2-hour set. Great shit.


The Nicks


My old man and I celebrated our 3rd anniversary the other day, on 4/20. Ahem. Yes, I get it. The irony. Well, if there are munchies to be satisfied, at least they would be healthy. Because Chris decided to make sushi! Hahaha.



He did an amazingly good job. Not because it's a shock, since he's a great fucking cook - but because sushi ain't easy to make and it was his first time. I was pleasantly surprised. And my idle, resting stomach was relieved to survive the night. I like my baby. I think I'll go ahead and marry him. Okay.

Posted by Marci Twitches :: 11:06 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Tuesday, April 18, 2006

ClimbingClimbingClimbing and Sidewalk Sluts

Easter weekend. Nothing to do with Bunnies and the resurrected Christ here. Although I did see a great program on the National Geographic channel about the Gospel of Judas. I know it pisses off a lot of SuperChristians, and that fact alone cracks me up. Anyway. The dude that played Judas in the re-enactments was really hot. Jesus was pretty cute too. Sexy Middle Eastern Hippies. The casting was superb. Two Thumbs Up.

ANYWAY. I had one of the coolest hikes EVER over the weekend (the Tepozteco in Tepoztlan, Mexico is my #1 Favorite - a beautiful mountain in a cobblestoned village about an hour outside of Mexico City - there's a pyramid at the top! And a Coke stand!) - SO my #2 Favorite is the Flat Iron at the Lost Dutchman State Park in the Superstitions. At first I wasn't terribly pleased that I had to drive to Apache Junction at 6:30 am on a Saturday morn, but 6 hours later (ACK) - I was singing a different tune.

I cannot overstate the beauty of this place. It was challenging and tiring and scary and there was much rock-climbing (not the scary kind that involves rappeling and shit) - but it was the coolest. Ever.



Flat Iron (Pride Rock, I decided on the name change) was our final destination. THAT thing right there!



Us chicks made it to the top first. Yeah. That's right, you pussy.



Okay, I haven't mocked Mojo lately. I caught him trying to fuck Teddy Bear again. He had a SeanPenn/RusselCrowe moment and tried to escape the paparazzi. Hahaha tough shit you little bastard. I'm exposing you as the perverted little asshole that you are.


I'm also exposing him as the clumsy jerk that he is, who doesn't care about other people's property. This is him jumping up on the dresser. Almost.


OH. And my sister was here over the weekend. We took a walk around the neighborhood and came accross some of the cement engravings us boy-crazy lil girls etched, back in the day.


Angel Smith loved Sly Stallone. Tramp.


Me. I was all about Superman. "Christopher Reeve is a babe".

Posted by Marci Twitches :: 10:48 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Friday, April 14, 2006

Funko towns and kiddie parties and Hike-o-lisciousness


Just wanted to thank the shit outta all my pals - thanks to you I've SURPASSED my fundraising goal for the Hike For Discovery. Now I can relax and not worry about having to cut a check (which would inevitably bounce) to make up for the difference. I can look forward to my weekend at the Grand Canyon and enjoy myself and all the cool people I've met. This has become a more meaningful experience than I expected it to be, and I'm grateful for that. And everyone that donated has added to that for me. I am truly grateful.

I am totally looking forward to trapsing down the canyon - and to my impending death as I trip and roll and stumble and tumble down, ricocheting along the canyon walls. I have decided that, upon my survival of the Canyon Hike, I will mark this milestone with the End Of My Booze Fast - at least for that night. I'm gonna get loaded. Fer sher. WOOHOO.

SO THANKS!


Top of Camelback earrrrrly in the morn


7 am hike every Saturday morning since February. I'm kickin' some toosh. Rather, getting my heiney kicked. A lot. WOOHOO!

Went to the funnest "kiddie" birthday party ever. Nevermind that darling Theo won't remember it, we will. It was a great time.


Theo gets chased by Dragons and Little Girls


...and other monsters


Early lessons in life.


The cutest goddaughter in the universe. Yeah, I'm partial. But I'm right.


So I took a loooong daytrip to Bisbee this week. I love that frickin' town. Adorable hill community and a buncha kooks, too.


This bastard was reading as he drove. READING!



Some local priest's house. I mean, CAR.



Some freak lives here. Used to be a Greyhound station.


Posted by Marci Twitches :: 9:52 AM :: 0 Comments:

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The Shrink's Story. And he's sticking to it.

HA. Get this. Frank's excuse for ditching me and giving me a complex: An SUV crashed into his living room.

Hmmm. Likely story. I don't know who's crazier. Him or me.

Posted by Marci Twitches :: 9:45 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Monday, April 10, 2006

On "Lost"

I had a philosophical argument with my old man the other night about the greatest funnest engagingist show on TV, LOST. I know we all have different tastes, but I feel like this show is just SO much fun and interesting on so many levels, that it simply HAS to appeal to everyone. I can't understand why anyone would dislike it. Like most of the opinions I hold, I simply cannot fathom when anyone doesn't agree with me. It makes no sense. Ha.

So if my old man isn't working on any given night, I'm thrilled - it means he gets to hang with me, with his twerps. Lately he hasn't worked Wednesday nights, so he's home. He cooks dinner and we all have a nice lil time. Come 8pm, however, he literally walks out the door, to run an errand, to visit his buddy down the street, whatever - he says he'll be back in an hour. He refuses to watch Lost with me. It makes me absolutely bonkers.

So I pinned him down to the couch, elbow on his chest (it paralyzes him in a combo of pain & giggles), and we had a calm discussion. That I watch hours and hours and hours of stupid shit like Motorcycle/Monster/Tattoo/Cooking shows, I watch fucking Walking Tall & Tombstone with him every time they're on (which is every other day), quality flicks with the likes of Brian Dennehy & Tom Berenger - all kinds of things I think are lame - JUST to be near him, JUST to show I can GIVE hahaha and the second Lost comes on Chris simply HAS to leave the fucking HOUSE, he can't even stand to be in the same room while it's on. He has to scram.

While I technically won because I had many superior points, I lost because at the end Chris just laughed & shrugged, and said NOPE. He won't watch the show.

ARGH!

Posted by Marci Twitches :: 9:47 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Thursday, April 06, 2006

I'm becoming Woody Allen. My neurotic side has been re-awoken.

If I didn't have a complex about my self worth before, I sure as shit do now. Ha. Yeah.
Apparently I am easy to forget. Apparently I bore the shit out of him. Apparently I'm not even worthy of a prior phone call.

I wasn't even angry, I was injured. WOUNDED! Butthurt! And that sad fact confused me. Then it offended me.

So I've been seeing a therapist type fella. Thought I'd give it a shot. What the hell. It's been recommended to me over the years, you know. Ahem.

So there I went. Trying to shuck my preconceived notions about shrinks. Trying not to call them shrinks, for one. Trying not to judge or mock people who see therapists - that it's common enough, and even normal enough, for a functional human being to want to talk to a qualified stranger once in a while. I'm not crazy. I'm not a mess. Nope.

Okay, I was nervous the first time I went. I didn't know what to expect and was truly hoping not to find a chaise lounge that I'd be expected to lay down in, or a monocled, bored old man who was going to attribute all my ills to a secret desire of possessing a penis. I mean, who wouldn't want to possess a penis? Put a cute lil wang in a cozy box, with red velvet lining and holes for air. But me, I just wanted to talk, man.

So Frank is a 40something, casual and laid-back Italian from Brooklyn. I sat in an actual chair and we both said shit and hell several times. Cool. I felt relaxed. Now, I've seen him only half a dozen times, but I was now operating from a comfortable place with him, I'd gotten over my insecurities and silly notions. He was just a cool dude who was listening to me, and I could bitch and moan and confess and not worry about hurting anyone's feelings, and actually aide my own. Sweeeet. I could get used to this shit.

Until I got ditched by my fucking therapist. Yeah. You heard me. Right outta some fucking Woody Allen movie.

I stood outside his door the other day for our appointment. I waited until 10 after. I knocked timidly on his closed door. Nothing. At 15 minutes after the hour, I called his office line - I could hear his phone ringing 3 yards away. No answer. I then left him a message, and I asked a woman wandering past me if she knew whether or not Frank was in. She shrugged in a much less self-assured manner than I'd want a person working in her field to be - she was more nervous to knock on his door than I was. Great. Whackjobs infiltrating the behavioral health system, how encouraging.

So he wasn't there! Frank had flown the coop and ditched my sorry ass. I'm in turmoil, I tell you!

I mean, what the shit is THAT? Being ditched by your fucking shrink is perhaps not the most beneficial thing for a soul. IF I were a more delicate person (which I've been feeling as it pertains to this new status as someone who's "in therapy", that word still makes me itch), or if I were an emotionally volatile type (which I could argue that someone seeing a therapist in the first place might actually BE - not that I am, per se. Yeah. No. I'm not.) - flakiness might have more dire implications. Not therapeutically useful, I might even suggest. Bastard!

AND, get this. Here's the kicker. He hasn't even fucking called me back. Ha! And I emailed him yesterday (in a restrained tone, just in case he was mangled or something, I didnt want a permanent record of violent indignance left behind). But I AM indignant. This wasn't a flaky friend you don't expect to show, or my dentist. I felt like the dweeby high school chick that arrived for a date with that guy I suspected was probably too hot for me anyway, who never really planned on showing up. Maybe he and his football buddies were hiding around the corner, giggling at me as I stood there in my Benetton sweater and face full of braces, wondering where he was.

You'd think that someone in his field would be more cognizant of what ditching a vulnerable crazy person might do to them. Ha.

Not that this person is me, or anything.

Posted by Marci Twitches :: 9:43 AM :: 0 Comments:

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