sug’s dexterity dims

one of my dog sugar’s favorite things to do has always been to play fetch. for the last 15 years i’ve kept a steady supply of tennis balls on hand so that inside or out we could always tire her out a bit. now in her golden years ball chasing has become a bit of a challenge. she can’t jump at all like she used to. when she was 1 years old, she was dubbed “best jumper in her class” by the obediance instructor and even up until 1.5 years ago she was still a very agile jumper.

so this morning, we decide to play. well, sugar decided we were playing. so in order to make more room in this 720 sq. ft. apt. i pushed the coffee table flush with the couch. unfortunately, things got a little out of hand. see i forget, and so does sugar, that she’s old and has arthritis. so she was running around with the ball and then i started chasing her to pretend to try and get the ball back and she jumped on top of the coffee table trying to get away. she slipped and fell down and my heart broke. because in the old days she would’ve made that jump and got away. instead she was scared and confused as to why she fell.

i should know better than to play with her like that. she also has vestibular disease and gets disoriented easily anyway.

these last few years with her are going to be tough.

splish splash

more fun from the office manager files. last week an employee came up to my desk and whispered, “can i talk to you about something?” now, when this guy whispers, i know it’s serious, since his booming voice can be heard from miles away.  so he laid it on me. thankfully not literally.

“there are these deodorant things in the urinals and when i pee, i end up getting splashed on. it gets on my clothes and even on the walls sometimes. it’s really bothersome to go back to my desk with wet clothes on, so can something be done about it?”

now aside from another round of toliet training for him, my only choice was to call building management to ask them to remove, what i’ve now learned are called, urinal deodorant cakes.

after my building representative finished laughing her head off, she told me she’d have the male custodians do some quality assurance testing of their current brand of deodorant cakes. apparently, splashing did ensue because she later called to tell me the cakes had been removed and they were investigating an alternative brand.

let’s hope this one comes with a splash guard and free copies of:

fuzzy capture

today we were able to catch a flying fuzzy thereby averting the need to stretch pantyhose over the air vent to catch them. that was one of the suggestions i received for catching the little buggers. i balked because i could just see the whole place going up in my smoke over my No Nonsense Silky Sheers. I can see the headline now:

office manager’s pantyhose sound 3 alarms but not because of her legs

tomorrow they are going into the duct work to try and find the newly christened “dustballs.” makes me wonder if some little troll lives up there and has been amusing himself by raining fuzzies on the artists’ heads. if that’s the case, his gig is up.

the Fuzzbusters have arrived and these badasses don’t wear pantyhose.

the case of the flying fuzzies

part I of the office manager mysteries.

a couple of days ago, i was alerted to what is actually an old problem at my office, the flying fuzzy. in one small section of my office what appears to be flying bits of fuzz rain on some of my employees. the fuzz is sporadic but continues to haunt about 8-10 employees and their work space.

after explaining the problem, once again, to my building maintenance they decided to call in the big guns. mr. grimm (his real name) promptly came a calling and lo and behold the fuzzies weren’t falling while he was present. murphy’s law, of course.  after more investigating mr. grimm decided he just cannot find the source and absolutely needs to see a fuzzy for himself. he advised me to have the affected employees alert me when the fuzzies fall so that i can run back and collect them for myself (in a baggie or whatnot).

figuring that the fuzzies would appear when i was at lunch, i deputized my staff and gave them envelopes for instant collecting.

by 4:30 today none were captured. stay tuned.

lunasa

“Lunasa“, one of my favorite irish bands performs “The Boy in the Boat.” enjoy this toe-tapping video on St. Patrick’s Eve.

booksink

waiting, waiting, waiting, just like Vladimir or Estragon. i am without words on a tangible page.

i mailed my books back to Bookswim two weeks ago and they still haven’t received them. no new books are on their way and i’m forced to reread my bookshelf. no where near a death sentence, but still…

went to the Bookswim website today and saw that i can pay an additional $6.99 (on top of $23.95 per month) to have my books mailed priority mail. awesome! let me get right on that.

again, i must say the pony express was undoubtedly far superior. i hold more faith in bicycles or mopeds. hell, a yak would get my books here faster. i’m afraid my patience is running thin and ding dong, Godot is at the door.

Bookswim, take heed.

soap dreams

another writing resurrection from the early 2000’s, similar to my Keno brothers piece.

When I have a nightmare, I don’t pop out of bed, panting and horrified like they do in the movies. I just don’t, do you? Here we are in the year 2002 and they haven’t yet figured out a different way to dramatize a person having a nightmare. When I have a nightmare, I usually just wake up and move around in my bed, maybe yawn a few times. And then I force myself to remember it, otherwise, I’ll fall right back into it again. Sometimes, when I’m crying in the nightmare I wake up with tears on my cheeks. But, I have never, ever, instantaneously sat up in bed, gasping for what’s sure to be my last breath.

Although sometimes I wish I lived on TV. Well, not just any TV show, a soap opera. You never have to work and when you do go to work, all you have to do is wait for other characters to come and talk over your personal life, or their personal life, or any personal life of the 30 people who happen to live in the little soap opera town. There are no such things as bad hair days, laundry, dishes, or even waiting in line. Course there is a lot of illness. But I’ve always liked visiting hospitals and cemeteries.

Wouldn’t it be great if I had writers who were writing my storyline? Keeping it interesting, giving me a new handsome boyfriend every 6 mos. to a year. Making sure that I had just enough drama and romance but giving me a few slow periods so that I could also take a vacation. And I’m okay with the outrageous. I wouldn’t mind being kidnapped by my estranged, lunatic half-brother, who holds me captive on a desert island, until Chance, my latest billionaire boyfriend, comes to my rescue. That would be OK. I could handle that. I could handle not having to spend another minute in the “Dating Scene.” So, if there are any soap writers out there looking for a chance to merge soaps and reality, give me a call.

One thing though about the nightmare scenes, don’t make me pop out of bed panting. Okay? Keep it real. Don’t worry I’ll have no trouble convincing people that I’ve had a nightmare. All I have to do is wake-up, and say “Oh, my God, I just dreamed I was single!!!”

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footnote: here’s a great Saturday Night Live depiction of that nightmare gasping i’m talking about.

SNL Digital Short: The Mirror.

in case you thought i was kidding

found post-op, mrs. b and her badly wrinkled apron. my mother needs to send her contact info for her ironer, betty. yes, as i’ve said before, my mother has an ironer. crazy. i don’t even know if i have an iron.

cannibalism served hollywood style

so last night, nursing a nasty cold (all together now: aww…), i turned on a Napster free on demand flick. the title being  so cleverly named, “the donner party“. i’ve always loved adventure/survival stories. some of my favorites are, “alive“, “into thin air“,  and “in harm’s way“. anyhow, knowing what i knew about the doomed donners, i thought this would be right up my alley.

not quite. i may like survival stories but only if they contain mostly true elements with some dramatic liberties in the mix. but in this film, “based on a true story“, the donners were committing suicide to save their loved ones, drawing straws to find out who was next in line to be dinner and shooting each other when no one was volunteering (shame on you, Crispin Glover!). in truth none of that actually happened. the donners only ate the flesh of those who died naturally. come on, they may have been starving but they weren’t homicidal maniacs.

but then i asked myself, does cannibalism really need to be spiced up? (oops…pun alert)  i mean doesn’t eating your friends and family contain enough dramatic elements on its own? do we really need murder and suicide to help keep a modern audience interested?

i just hope James Cameron doesn’t do a film about the donners. oh, God,  i can hear the dialogue now:

my love, my life, i eat you

twin appraisal

continuing my weekend series of posting past work; this is an earlier piece from ’99 that i wrote and performed. watching antique furniture experts Leigh and Leslie Keno on Antiques Roadshow last weekend made me think of it.

Sometimes I imagine, I’m an antique and I walk into the Roadshow. Leigh sees me first and starts jumping up and down and pointing. He screams, “Leslie, Leslie, come over here. Wait till you see the incredible condition of this.” Leslie calmly walks over and says “Leigh, look at the superb workmanship, the fine finish, the inlay of these lovely curves, and the long, slender legs. And they lead to these perfectly arched feet. Think of the hours, Leslie, it took to design and build this.”

They both take out their starched white gloves so they can inspect me more closely and with extreme care. They lay their hands over my entire perimeter while commenting on the detail, color, the fluidity and smoothness of my vessel. They step back in marvelment, adjust their silk ties and then Leigh whispers to his brother, “its almost impossible to appraise such a masterpiece of beauty and perfection.”

Try boys, try.