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3:13 p.m. - 2012-04-19
Oh Lawn Guy? Where Art Thou?

Seems like all I do here lately is muse and moon about my house, gloat over being happy, and bitch about my looks.

Not to worry, the world is still providing astonishments, amusements and absurdities galore.

Yesterday I went to Staples for printer ink and a plug-in mouse for Mick's laptop. Directly ahead of me as I left the store was a woman and a Staples employee (male). The Staples kid was carrying a big box with a computer in it. The woman trotted over to a minivan and opened the rear hatch so the kid could put the computer box in and I read the graphic on the door of her vehicle. It was for 'KJP Fitness Equipment'. Excuse me? The woman is in the fitness business and had the kid carry a 15lb box to her car?

I have a very cool pair of earrings. (Well, I have dozens of pairs of cool earrings, but this is moot here.) The earrings I'm talking about are long teardrops made of glass. Clear glass swirled with a ribbon of white glass. Have had them for years. So the other day I was chatting with the guard at the security desk at Wolf's old school while he was in for counseling. There was another woman there too; I'm assuming she's a friend of the security lady because she's there quite often. Anyhow, Pat the security guard complimented me on the glass earrings and asked if I was ever nervous about them being fragile, you know, because they're glass. I shook my head and said they were tougher than they looked. The friend chimed in and said, "Oh yeah! Glass stuff can really take it! I have a glass cup I use all the time." Mad blushing on the friend's end and discrete knowing smiles smothered by me and Pat. Glass dildos? I've seen them, of course, but truly not my thing. Glass slippers, sure, but faux penises made of Pyrex? Nuh uh. But whatever does ya, friend of Pat. I'm no Judgey McJudgerson. Though I will admit to fits of mad giggles the last few times I've used my actual Pyrex measuring cups.

Dumbest thing to complain about EVER: I have a couple of eyelashes on the upper lid of my left eye which are growing in at bad angles. They're like velcro. They hook the lower lashes and make my eyelid stick together when I blink. The hellish thing is I know the damn things are there but can't see them to pull them out because to get to them I have to take my glasses off and then I become Blinky the Mole. My eyelash comb doesn't help at all. Majorly annoying. An honest-to-Godfrey first world problem but having my eye velcro itself together every time I blink is driving me batshit.

The last time Mick and I went to the movies the ticket seller asked, "Senior discount?" Good God, it's assumed Mick and I are in our late 50s. Wild internal debate between accepting the discount or jamming my arm through the ticket hole and strangling the kid while screaming, "Jesus Christ, I'm 49, you arrogant dimwit!" Being cheap won, btw. Hey, 5 bucks is 5 bucks.

I can't tell you how much I loathe printers. When the Geek was here hooking up my tower he scanned a random item off my desk and it showed up fine. But today I'm trying to scan a nice pic that came in with the last disposable camera Mick had developed and I can't make the f-ing printer/scanner do a bloody thing except smirk and give me endless error messages. Shit.

The new lawn service guys are supposed to be here sometime today to do an initial spring clean-up. It's like waiting for the cable guy. I'm afraid to use the can or take a shower lest I miss them and they drive away without doing their job. So slobbo me is here stinky, needing to pee, and anxiously waiting.

I watched 'Ghostbusters' the other day and wondered when Bill Murray stopped annoying the crap out of me and became one of my favorite actors. I'm thinking it was 'Rushmore'. I'm not wholly a devotee to Wes Anderson (or Sofia Coppola for that matter) but Bill Murray's existential sorrow shone through for the first time in 'Rushmore', thus laying the ground for his stellar turn in Jim Jarmusch's 'Broken Flowers'. A film which never fails to make me cry and wonder about the dumb choices we make and why we're stupid enough to believe we have control over anything.

On the book front I haven't read anything new in a while. This doesn't mean I don't read, I'm just currently in re-read mode and right now (among other faves) am giving King's 'Just Before Sunset' another run. I still can't deal with the story 'The Things They Left Behind'. It's been over 11 years. Will I ever be able to be casual about that day? 9-11? I don't think so. The names of my friends chime in my head always. The loss, the grief, the bloody stupidity of a tragedy engineered to foment a political and even worse- a financial agenda. My friends are dead, does it matter why they were killed or for who's gain? Not to me. All I know is I can't. I won't assimilate the horrors of 9-11 into something as mundane as pop culture fodder. I'm not angry with Steve, the man's writing has always gone to the bone marrow of auto-cannibalism. Doesn't mean I have to slog through it.

I will say, however, that there's always at least one story in every Stephen King collection that I will read over and over and over. A story which never loses its charm or fails to make me smile. Forget about the big bloated multi-novel series and 900 page stand-alone books, it's ever and always Steve's genius with the short story that makes me grind my teeth with envy and frustration over my own shallow talent as a writer. Hell, most days I bang out my dopey blah-blah-blah and do my best to quash that mocking inner voice that says I will never write anything that'll pack the punch of a Stephen King short story, but deep down I know the truth. For however facile and charming I might be in person, my writing is always going to be pedestrian and dull as lead. Crap.

Jeeze, I've wandered away from the amusing, haven't I? Truly I'm not in a funk. How could I be with so much going right? It's just that I've already made a call to the lawn service's number and didn't even get their voicemail. I'm doubting their reliability and dreading Mick's explosive reaction to their no-show. I want to get going with my day already and I really need to pee.

Frustrated, ~LA

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