11/20/98
Charo
Okay, first, I think web-based journals that do nothing but natter on and on about other web-based journals are hopelessly lame. I mean, come on! Write about your life. That's interesting. Writing about what someone else wrote about their life is profoundly dorky. A web journal, at best, should be a transparent window into the writer's life. I'm ambivalent about the whole "journalling community," myself. And yes, I know my Open Pages link at the bottom makes me a hypcritical hit-whore in the first degree.
So having said all that, I say this: you must read Ouch, the spin-off of sugar and preserve. SNP, as it's known to the in-crowd, was the daily musings of a software company secretary in Seattle. She also had a long-term live-in relationship with the owner of the company. Well, the other day she left the owner of the company (Wil, the author of Ouch) for another man. Now SNP is no longer being updated but Ouch has become a daily outpouring of despair and bitterness. It's also compulsively readable. Fascinating, in a car-wreck kind of way.
Sonya is out of town this weekend at a team-building retreat sponsored by her employer. She took a bottle of rum, so I'm sure she'll be drunk in the woods tonight.
I, however, will be drunk in the city.
No, I don't have a drinking problem. No, I don't think it gets out of hand when Sonya leaves town. Sure, I've got the genes for it and everything, but I'm not an alcoholic yet. It seems like if it were going to happen it already would have.
And I'm fine when Sonya leaves town, really. Of course in a perfect world she wouldn't leave, and I do miss her. But I take her absence as an opportunity for some me-time. That usually consists of laying on the couch and reading. I'm a simple man.
But when Sonya leaves town I have a hard time sleeping. Last night, for example, I squirmed and wiggled so much I came out of my flannel Looney Tunes pajama pants. That's not a good sign.
I called Jen a couple of hours ago.
"Are you coming downtown tonight?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Is James working lights again tonight?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to sit in his apartment with only the cat for company?"
"No."
"Then we need to get together! There's no telling what kind of trouble we can get into without any moderating influences around!"
So Jen and I will probably tie on a fairly good one tonight. Two drunk Leos, wandering Memphis. We should be very impressive.
I got the new Tori Amos video this week. All her videos, ever, on one convenient tape. I recommend it highly if you're a fan of the piano-pounding redhead.
A quick funny story for you, kids, and then I'm off for the weekend.
Wednesday night Sonya asked me to fix her a glass of Coke. No biggie. I go in the kitchen, put some ice in a glass, take the top off the Coke bottle, pick it up...
...and tap it against the counter just enough to knock it out of my hand.
It was a three liter bottle, so we're talking a pretty serious amount of Coke in a wide-mouthed bottle. It hit the floor. Something resembling a nuclear explosion happened inside the bottle. A firehose-like stream of Coke went jetting across the kitchen floor and onto the living room rug.
I swore profusely. Sonya came running and laughed at me.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I just dropped the damn bottle."
I ended up mopping the kitchen twice to make the floor unsticky. I don't even want to talk about the carpet.
Later...
So the drunk is continuing apace. I'm not quite pissed yet, but I'm working on it. Jen is having a few, but she ain't there yet either.
So far tonight we've downloaded the Star Wars: Episode I trailer, watched Tori Amos videos and devoured a Pizza Hut pizza, medium, pepperoni, thin crust.
So now we're going to do something very special: my first special guest! Without further ado -
Here's Jen!
Thank you . . .please, you really are too kind. Ok. You can stop the applause now. Its breaking my concentration. Truth be told that's probably the beer talking. But, I digress.
Well, this is my first guest spot. I have a page of my own but I don't get around to working on it much anymore. You see, I have a "less than desirable" job at a "less than progressive" non profit organization. Translation: they are too damned cheap to give us PC's or internet access. When I was at the old job (you know, the animal killers) I had lots of free time on my hands. I was known to download pictures and write slash fiction. Sometimes I wonder why I ever left all that behind. I keep having these grand intentions of going home and working on it. None of these have ever amounted to anything though, because I generally end up going to James' and . . . well, come to think of it some things are more satisfying than a night with the net. But, in all seriousness I do have grand notions. If you decide you want to take a gander, shoot yourself on over to www.geocities.com/sunsetstrip/club/5985 if you dare. Those of you who have read Harold's site in the past might know a little bit about me and that should be warning enough.
When I talked to Harold at work this afternoon, we had every intention of tying one on. I guess you know by now that that hasn't exactly happened. I used to have a real gift for drinking . Hell, I still do! It's just that I don't seem to be doing it quite as often anymore. Maybe it's because I have a LIFE now. No, that couldn't be it. It's just early. Never, ever give up.
[Editor's Note: I'll never let go, Jack. I'll never let go.]
It's isn't like I have anything particularly witty or useful to say, so I will let you get back to the porno site you have bookmarked.
We now return you to your original programming.
[The observations and comments of Jen Wood do not necessarily represent the opinions or beliefs of Harold Williams or wonderland 2. Thank you for playing.]
