Wednesday, November 16, 2005

The Fall of Troy

I hung out with rock stars last night. Roomalina bought tickets to see her favourite band, The Fall of Troy. They played at Axis, a small venue in Boston that allows crazy fans to get very close to their favourite bands. Which is exactly what Roomalina did. I had told her, somewhat in jest, that she should take an extra pair of panties with her to throw on the stage during the band's set. Because all bands like it when girls throw panties at them. It's a rock and roll fact.

Well, she did just that. She threw her panties on stage, and the next thing she knew, the band wanted to come home with her. Not in a 'let's all go home with this crazy chick and bone her' sort of way. But more in a 'uh, we don't have any place to sleep except for in our van' sort of way.

So Roomalina called Roomette and I to ask if it would be okay if she brought rock stars home with her to stay the night. It was 10:30 and I had just gotten done making mashed potatoes while Roomette watched the fourth episode of That 70's show in syndication. We kind of needed some rock stars to hang out with at that moment. Besides, it's her FAVOURITE BAND. I couldn't deny her the opportunity to host a sleepover with her favourite band. That would be unnecessary and wrong. Hell, I was impressed. I wouldn't have even called to ask permission, I would have just brought the band home and told my roommates to deal with it. (Of course, there is a difference between Eurythmics and the four 20 year old boys that make up The Fall of Troy.) But hell, they are rock stars, right?

So they came over. We hung out, partied like rock stars until I finally had to hit the sack at 12:30. (Hey, I'm no spring chicken and at my age rock stars can only keep me awake for so long.) Roomalina was so happy. I've never seen anyone that happy before in my life.

The next day, after Roomalina served the band pancakes for breakfast (and after they piled into their van hauling a trailer full of their band equipment that they had parked on our back lawn), I asked Roomalina if last night was the best night she'd ever had. She thought about it for a bit, weighing all of her options. But in the end, she smiled with that huge beaming smile (she actually hasn't stopped smiling yet) and said that yes, last night was indeed the best night of her life.

Then we made the heavy metal fingers and yelled "Woo-hoo! Fall of Troy! Yeah! Woo-hoo!"

Sunday, November 13, 2005

The Dishtowel Dilemma

As I age I realize that more and more of the things my mother did that were crazy, annoying, completely ridiculous and even a little bit neurotic are starting to creep up on me. You see, I have these dish towels. They match my bright kitchen perfectly. One orange, one green, and one yellow one hang in the kitchen accented by two bright white ones with an orange, a lime, and a lemon embroidered on them. They are super cute, and of course, they match my kitchen perfectly.

I'm kind of obsessed with these dish towels. I don't want anyone using them for anything. They are decorative-use-only dish towels. I spent quite a bit of time washing them yesterday after noticing they had stains and dirt all over them. I washed, bleached, blotted, and washed again. They came out perfectly white again and are now drying before I fold them and hang them up, perfectly aligned.

I've told the roommates not to use them, which they are very good about. I guess dish towels just get dirty. We did have some guests over who graciously cleaned our kitchen after breakfast yesterday. So I have a feeling that is when the dirty dishtowel drama began. I'm tempted to put a sign on the dish towels that reads: "For decorative use only. Please do not use." But after mentioning this to Roomette, we decided together, by which I mean she told me, that that would turn our kitchen into a Bed & Breakfast and that maybe I should just try to calm down. It's not even like these dish towels cost me a lot of money (I think they were on sale for $1 each), or like they are heirlooms from my dead grandmother. But COME ON PEOPLE! They are cute decorative dishtowels and not a place for you to wipe your grungy dirty hands or clean off your filthy food-covered spatulas.

I'm going to get help for this some day. But for now, I'm going to go fold my decorative dish towels evenly into thirds and hang them up so that they are in front of the cute colored ones so that all of the bottoms are even. That's all. I'm going to be fine.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

The Greatest (day I've ever known)

Roomalina's cell phone has this ring...I couldn't place it at first because I'm still of the mindset that a phone should ring like a phone. So when a phone sounds like a Smashing Pumpkins song, it takes me awhile to place it.

Today may have been the greatest day. It's the best one I've had in awhile. It all started out as a normal day. After having gay coffee time with Roomalina after forcing her to turn off the Christmas Music so that I could watch Robyn and Company and VH1, I hobbled off to work in my boot. I have been getting myself into work for a few days now, having graduated from crutches to cane to my own sense of balance. I can't walk too much on it yet, but I can get from one form of transportation to another, from subway to bus.

I worked during the morning, getting much accomplished in a short amount of time. Work has been busy for me lately. Being back in the office has been good, as my couch isn't prone to being a good influence for anything other than watching daytime reruns of Dawson's Creek followed by a 4 hour marathon of That '70's Show. I've been developing my own workplan and rediscovering why it is I love what it is I do all over again. After the last 7 drought-filled months, this revelation couldn't have been more timely. The fact that work has been one of the only things that has gotten me out of the house since returning from Canada with a broken ankle has also helped.

Mixed in my morning dose of email was a message from a certain someone. I was being missed. And it made me miss him too. It was nice being missed like that. I had forgotten about it. The reminder was sweet and thought provoking. A nice surprise.

After a lunch of homemade pumpkin soup paired with some delicious homemade pumpkin bread (I spent the weekend cooking the last of the farm share for the season) I made my way to my doctor's appointment. Granted, there has been much buildup for this day already, which surely plays into the fact that this is my Smashing Pumpkins' day. Today was the day that my boot was scheduled to come off. Permanently. As I hobbled down the streets of Boston for the last time in that fucking boot, I became aware of all the canes, and crutches, and limps, and even boots that had surrounded me in the last few weeks. Sure, most of the time I felt isolated and ugly. A freak walking, or coming as close to it as I could to it, around in public. But there is an amazing amount of people who have broken their feet, ankles and legs in Boston. It probably has something to do with all the potholes. I arrived at the doctor. Got x-rayed again. Checked out ok. And traded my big ugly boot for a much smaller splint that fits inside a regular shoe. No more boot!

I decided to reward myself by endulging in a liquid libation at one of my favorite watering holes. Bukowski's. After sharing a mug of the appropriately titled 'Celebration Ale' in number 151 with William Faulkner and Red, one of my favorite bartenders, I made my way to the #39 bus. The #39 is both a blessing and a curse. Tonight it was definitely both of those things. But it got me to the polls, my next and final destination, and so it served its purpose.

I limped to the polls, and voted. This was my first local election, other than the tag alongs with the Presidential Election, that I'd ever voted in. I got involved in politics at more of a global level. I believe in the trickle down theory, but it has just taken awhile to get me to the local level. I must admit, I have been inspired by a certain Montanan to be more locally focused lately. He's right. I got kind of emotional about it actually. The little old ladies who volunteer their time to check off my name and hand me my form. The young enthusiastic democrats holding signs outside and asking for signatures to get our troops out of Iraq. The volunteer mom who comes by with a carton of Dunkin' Donuts coffee and a box of munchkins to keep everyone warm. It was a day of community in my neighborhood. And it felt great.

Looking back on it, it's not that remarkable of a day. But it was a pretty great day. I guess I'm getting old. Little things amuse me. I find meaning in smaller things now, like dried cranberries and hoses and stuff.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

The Expert

I've decided that I'm going to be an expert on terrorism. After watching alot of CNN Headline News (Robin & Co. is my daily regimen for skim the top of the barrel news AND the latest hair fashions for anchorwomen) it has become pretty clear that this job is much easier than any other job. Apparently all you have to do is make the occasional appearance on various news programs and say things like "We're looking into terrorism, and what we know so far is that terrorism can strike anywhere at anytime." Or you could say, "as an expert on terrorism, I can say that we should be alert, expect the unexpected." Or "we don't know much about these terrorists, or the acts of terrorism they may commit, but we can say, with certainty, that it is uncertain when or where the next act of terrorism will occur." Oh, and make sure that underneath your name it says "Terrorist Expert" as your title. This way everyone will know that you are clearly an expert on terrorism, even if you have no information on terrorism what-so-ever. I mean, after all, what good would terrorism do if people could actually become experts on it? USA! USA!