Imaginary Conversations and Random Thoughts

Allie Cat dropped by and reminded me about Nothing Less, about whom I haven’t written much lately. What I recall from where I left off was that they totally kick ass on New Year’s Eve and they’re finishing a cd due out in the spring.

Where we are now is you can hear “Punk Rock Sister” by clicking right here. You go listen now!

And while you’re there, you can hear two songs, “Record Store” and “Rawkstar” from Beyond Therapy, their 2003 CD. You can also hear “In This Town”, from something called Here Goes Nothing. I somehow missed that. Early reports indicate it was due to my lameness. I’m checking for more info.

However, if you want to buy CD’s t-shirts, hoodies, posters, even a DVD of the Record Store video with a cool making of feature included (and you know you do!), you can go to their other site here. You go look now!

And while you’re there, you can also check out their local tour schedule, and since the CD is almost done, they’ve got more time to do kick butt live shows! Looks like the show with the most bands will be a festival show May 14, and what to my wondering eyes should appear? A triumphant return to Alaska to perform at world famous Chilkoot Charlie’s on June 30th! If necessary, you can check out Koot’s place here. You go look now!

. . . is a day when we take time to take stock of our nation, where we are, and where we’re going. You may recall that on past Wednesdays, we have pointed to ways to help President Bush and various candidates for senate. Now that the election is over, I figured Wictory Wednesday would become a thing of the past, an honored and fondly remembered part of a successful 2004 election cycle.

Then it occurred to me that all those people didn't turn out to vote just because of the last six months or so of campaigning. Republicans and Democrats both made a major effort ever since 2000 to register and motivate voters, building grassroots networks across the country. So rather than give up the ghost, Wictory Wednesday has been reborn, or born again, if you'll pardon the pun.

Today we're helping the Rick Santorum (R-PA) by donating here. You go look now!

Polipundit, who organizes the festivities each week, mobilizes the troops here. You go look now!

I may have oversold the connection between Miss Lola and myself on the psychology front. Her reputation as being anal is based on one event: The Check.

Twelve of us went out to dinner at this big conference. The waitress was unable to split the check. Miss Lola, with her calculator and a pilfered menu from the waitress stand, carefully calculated everyone’s share. Everyone else reacted pretty much like you are right now. I was busy admiring the attention to detail. And so her legend was born. Now somehow, I have given the impression of also being an anal type. Which is the reasoning used by Princess Wolfie when she suggested I ask Miss Lola out. Is she right? Am I anal? Read the rest, and you tell me.

You can read about my finicky food preferences here. Back? Ok, good.

Let’s segue with See’s candy. Wait didn’t I do that one already? Oh screw it; I’m not going to look all night for it. See’s is just representative for me of the fancy candy industry, but this applies to other candy companies. I want to know what each individual candy is. You know my favorite? Those flat toffee type candies, coated in chocolate, three of them jammed in one of those little paper cups all the candies have. I’m not sure if it’s my favorite because it tastes so good, or because every time I bite into one, I know what I’m going to get. Not so for any of the other candies. I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly care for a strange and unexpected taste flooding my mouth when I put something in it. But enough about candy, let’s talk about money now.

In my wallet the bills must be in ascending order from front to back. The “heads” side of each bill must be facing the front of the wallet, they must all be right side up. No George or Abe standing on their heads, thank you. The bills are not crinkled or folded and the corners aren’t curled up or folded in.

I make sure my alarm clock is on when I get home. Before I go to sleep I will have checked the alarm time and confirmed the alarm is on twice. Each. To make sure the alarm is on, I set it to the off position, and then switch it on-off-on.

That’s enough, right? I don’t really have to get into a long bit about how I play spider solitaire, do I?

Casanova Frankenstein’s first appearance here should get you caught up.

So I’m chattering away with Miss Tori at a client meeting and we end up discussing our status in Rumoropolis. You already know we’re co-managing this one client base we have. Well Neighbor Lady also had a chat with Miss Tori, and it turns out that expert puppet master Tough Boss was asking NL about what Miss Tori and I are up to in the whoopee department. Because of course we’re hanging out a lot at work due to our shared duties. But it’s not just Tough Boss. Turns out, a few of the clients have started wondering too.

Last night, Miss Tori and I had to come in for some extra work with some clients, and Miss Lola also had to be there. You might consider the three of us to be Team Derringer. Miss Lola has also heard things about Miss Tori and I from some clients. Naturally, she also hears rumors from clients about her and Mr. Texas, who shares an office with her. The gossip never stops in Rumoropolis.

Miss Tori and I set Miss Lola straight, and brought her in on our plan to milk this for everything it’s worth, either for our own personal advantage, or to teach those rumor mongers a lesson. One suggestion involves Tough Boss. She has some sort of get away from it all type of place in a rather well regarded place of beauty and wealth, possibly on the coast, but I can’t remember for sure. So the suggestion is that we tell her that for the sake of discretion, we need some out of the way place to, well, you know, and can we use her place. Then go down and have a fun vacation there, laughing all the way.

Maybe you have some other ideas on how we can have fun with this. I’m open to suggestions, but a pregnancy scare or us planning to quit our jobs and run away together are probably a little too over the line for us.

A while back I mentioned that Team Magnum would be playing hooky from work and visiting a reasonably local gaming type establishment. Unfortunately, even with a signed napkin, we just couldn’t generate the critical mass necessary to make it happen. Instead, it looks like we’ll just hitch a ride on a weekend bus trip the office is organizing. Big disadvantage: we’ll have to share the bus with non-Magnums. Big advantage: We can drink all the way there and all the way back. We can live with that.

The other topic was the possibility of having a cocktail hour at TJ McBoobies, our local drinks, loud music, and topless dancers emporium. We’ve discussed this before. And I think both times, the idea was first brought up by one of the Team Magnum Babes. You may recall that last time, I went on about how I was glad that when I visit TJ McBoobies type establishments, I visit the ones three towns over. I wouldn’t have to worry about being recognized. There was even a little dream sequence of how wrong something like that could go, including my secret undercover strip club patron name. If you don’t recall, you can look here.

This time we discussed it a little more seriously. Apparently, I wasn’t as out of the woods as I thought. It was pretty much agreed that we really couldn’t go to our local TJ McBoobies. Running into clients in there would be uncomfortable and could create a difficult situation. So it was also decided that we should go to one of the ones three towns over. Yikes! Time out.

My favorite person at the place I take my laundry to is the one who knows my name. Knowing the customer’s name, or just recognizing the customer even if you don’t know the name, generates positive reactions from customers. Which means good workers try to remember customers. Time in.

Three towns over? My wacky dream sequence might become a real life nightmare. I was slightly concerned about this turn of events. That is, until I remembered that these are cocktail hours after all, and I’m on safe ground again. There is pretty much zero chance that three towns over we’ll be visiting a place that I’ve visited.

You see, in our area, there is a sharp line between TJ McBoobies and TJ McCoochies. And not just in what the name implies. There’s a catch. If you want to run a TJ McCoochies, you may not serve alcoholic beverages. Drinks aren’t a factor for me in this decision, so if I go three towns over, I’ll go whole hog (or whole pig, if you prefer that term ladies) and visit a TJ McCoochies.

Fortunately for me, Team Magnum loves the liquor. If we go, and that’s still a big if, we’ll be hitting TJ McBoobies. I just have to make sure that wherever we go, I get there first and arrange for one of the girls to come up to one of the guys and act like she knows him. Or would it be funnier if I arranged for one of the girls to come up and act like she knows one of the Team Magnum Babes?

Actual Update: Promises, promises. I still owe you the matchup of mine and Miss Lola’s psychological quirks. And the chance to analyze me through media choices (yeah, I still can’t come up with a funny descriptor for that one). The rest of that list is taken care of. While I’m at it, I may as well tell you that I keep these lists on the backs of envelopes of this or that bill I’ve been sent. They get covered with scribbles as I scratch items off and add others. Sometimes I’ll put in key bits and reminders just to make sure I don’t forget. If a good title pops up, I’ll jot it down. My question for you: Should I stick those envelopes in a drawer or something or just chuck them as they get full?

Update: I forgot that the whole point of coming back for an update was to tell you that even though I owe you that other stuff, I think the next post will be a new adventure of Casanova Frankenstein in Rumoropolis: The Revenge of the Rumor, or, A Rumor of Revenge (still trying to decide which one I like best).

. . . is a day when we take time to take stock of our nation, where we are, and where we’re going. You may recall that on past Wednesdays, we have pointed to ways to help President Bush and various candidates for senate. Now that the election is over, I figured Wictory Wednesday would become a thing of the past, an honored and fondly remembered part of a successful 2004 election cycle.

Then it occurred to me that all those people didn't turn out to vote just because of the last six months or so of campaigning. Republicans and Democrats both made a major effort ever since 2000 to register and motivate voters, building grassroots networks across the country. So rather than give up the ghost, Wictory Wednesday has been reborn, or born again, if you'll pardon the pun.

Today we're helping the National Republican Senatorial Committee by donating here. You go look now!

Polipundit, who organizes the festivities each week, mobilizes the troops here. You go look now!

Alternate title: You’ll Get This In A Chain Email Within Two Years.

So Witty Sex Kitten likes the snuggles, but doesn’t have a guy to snuggle with on a regular basis. Her job is to put some thought into why this problem exists and what she can do to change things. My job is to mooch hits by writing long cheesy advice on some minor point about her mattress. The tender vittles:

Maybe it's cursed. Maybe I need to spray some sort of potion on it, drip candle wax on it, and chant. How would one get candle wax out of a mattress cover though?

You could always go voodoo on the mattress curse, and you wouldn’t even have to worry about getting wax off it. All you need is some part of the subject of your efforts. Normally this would be a lock of hair or some other uniquely personal item. But do mattresses have personal items? I can only think of one. Find that “Do Not Remove” tag, and remove it.

Cut the tag into two paper doll figures, taking care to make sure they are holding “hands” rather than two separate and unconnected figures. You’ll also need to make sure “your” doll is tall, and that “his” doll is cut to proportionally represent him as at least six feet tall. Oh yeah, and “your” doll should have some manner of well defined bosomy region, just to be on the safe side. Now you’ve got “your” bosomy doll and “his” six foot doll, linked by held hands, or perhaps, by something else being held, depending on how good you are with scissors.

Your cause will be helped if you decorate the dolls. Color them in, draw on some appropriate sleeping attire, make them as realistic as possible to the ideal vision you have of an unlonely bed. You might go for bonus voodoo and write “Don’t constantly stare here” across the aforementioned bosomy region. Now you have “your” doll and “his” doll, all ready to go.

You also have the leftover bits of tag that you cut away. These cut away bits represent the history of your mattress that you are exorcising. You’ll need to find a suitable burning items receptacle. These used to be known as ashtrays. You may have one or not. If not, any heavy glass bowl type item will suffice. Bonus voodoo points if you use a champagne glass dedicated (usually etched with something like “Billy and Sally 4 Ever” and given away at wedding or anniversary parties) to some long relationship (penalty points if Billy and Sally have broken up since). On each bit of cut away tag, write the name of one of your one (or two, or three) timers. There may not be enough bits for all the names, in which case, you should focus on those who were in some way disappointing. In other words, if you can’t burn them all, burn the worst first. Now you should have your dolls, the named tag bits for burning, and your burning receptacle.

But what else gets burned? You’ll need some sort of flying symbol. Check your windowsills and see if you can find any dead flies. A better choice would be some sort of butterfly or moth, which would symbolize the emergence of your mattress from the cocoon of lonely beddedness into the glory of long term snuggling. A feather can be used in a pinch, but you’ll have to make sure it’s a feather from a type of bird that mates for life. You’ll also need one drop of honey and one drop of the alcohol that has given you the worst hangover.

Combine the named bits of tag, your flying symbol, the honey, and the alcohol in your burning receptacle. Make sure you have taken proper fire precautions. I would suggest placing the burning receptacle in your kitchen or bathroom sink. Consider removing the battery from your fire alarm, which, while normally useful, can be an annoying interruption during controlled burns. Just make sure you replace it afterwards. Remember that fire needs oxygen. Don’t clump everything; carefully place the items in a loose pile that will allow air to circulate. Best results will be obtained by using wooden matches.

Once you light the pile, dance your dolls around the fire. Do this to honor the past that has brought you to this point as you watch it drift away on the smoke of your sacrifice. Your happy moments drift heavenward on the smoke. The bad moments of charred ash are washed down the drain to the pit of everlasting sorrow. Or your septic tank. If you’re in the bathroom, get bonus points (or at least psychological satisfaction) by flushing the remains instead. Now take the dolls and sleep with them under your pillow and wait for Mr. Wonderful to shimmy on in between the sheets.