4th of Juplaya, the Demon Seed, and yeah I’ve been absent

Yeah been a break here in the writing. Between having The Demon Seed here for 3 weeks (trip to SF to register for school and San Fransisco Pride Weekend -cool!) and our 4th of Juplaya foray it’s been nuts.

Your Truly smiling the day away

Your Truly smiling the day away

For The Demon Seed’s 18th Birthday I allowed her to attend 4th of Juplaya.
4th of Juplaya is a kinda of an  ‘underground’ Burner event. No tickets, no camps more than 50 people. Instead of 50,000 people at Burning man there are about 2000 people at the 4th of Juplaya.
Your next neighbor/camp may be 2 miles away. Not to mention no police, no police, fireworks (yes great mortars) a shooting range (yes firearms) and 3 springs.
We camped at Frog Pond, the hot pool. Another mile up the road is the cold pool. There’s another hot spring as well but it’s a bit ,uh, weedy.

Our camp, Spanky’s -yes the same as our famous Burning Man Camp- got permission to camp AT Frog Pond .And everyone on the playa eventually winds up there.

spanky's wine bar at 4th of Juplaya

Down time at Spanky’s

Got my ticket to Burning Man so more craziness to come. No. Really.

Still have pics to develop of Frog Pond, friends, and unusual acts of nature. Although…. no pics of the guy found one morning with the 13 inch cock handcuffed to the pond ladder; and passed out there all night. He finally woke up and was last seen beating feet(s) across the playa.

We decorated the pond with white Christmas  lights and had a campfire going every night as well.

Later Kiddies,

~Miss R

Frogbat at 4th of Juplaya

Frogbat 2011

I’m going to be middle-aged in November

Well, if I live to a hundred.
As you can see in the picture below I still haven’t given up my wicked ways. Well, not at Burning Man anyway. The guy next to me is the leader of our camp Spanky’s Wine Bar. Admiral Painjoy. This was taken at the Spanker’s Ball last year.

Rachael at Burning Man hanging with Admiral Painjoy

Moi at Burning Man hanging with Admiral Painjoy

Don’t know if the age thing is making me fucking berserk or just life in general. Woke up this morning  (hmmmm sounds like a bad blues song) and seriously considered making a list of my accomplishments, in order to jolt myself out of this creeping depression. C’mon. You spend 3 months in surgical recovery in constant pain restricted to your bedroom and your depression quotient would increase as well. Plus my kid is going off to college. Major Cabin Fever.

Then realized the list would take about a quarter of a page. Double spaced. In Number 2 pencil.
What the hell happened?
I was going to be the next Bette Midler (did start out playing piano and singing in gay bars in the LA area), but she had that niche down. Then thought Cole Porter, another hero. While I do love a good looking young man I prefer mine straight. So that was out.

Thought for a while I’d go the Dorothy Parker route. She was funny, drank and smoked too much, and her audience could never get enough of her witty writing and recorded banter. Hell she was even bi-polar. Realized that even at the peak of my blogging (about 2 years ago) my highest audience was 300 readers a day.
Besides, every time I met a guy and told him I was Bi he’d get an immediate boner…until I finished the statement with ‘polar.’

Considered Zelda Fitzgerald: another nutjob with vitality and wit. F. Scott used many of his character lines directly from Zelda’s words and actions. Except in my case it would be a husband who played second fiddle. This genius idea lasted until my second divorce, when I realized that both of the previous betrothed were leaching cretins. And those were their good points.

So music seemed to be it. Did my share of playing shows, some in venues which people have actually heard of.

Suddenly I was 30. What the hell? I’d done enough drugs, smoked enough ciggies and downed enough booze to kill at least three Irish villages. Yet…. I was still alive. How did this happen?
At this turning point I had a daughter. Not having made enough as a New York City financial vulture, nor musician or writer this was done on my own.
Oh the pain which could have been avoided by simply purchasing one at the local market.  the cost is tied in with the housing market.

Turned out it was the best and most important thing I’d ever accomplished at all. I quit drinking, ingesting illegal (or at least illegally obtained) pharmaceuticals and knocked off the ciggies as well.
And lost 75 pounds. And opened a thriving business. And some more shit I like to call ‘My Life as an Aging Punk Rocker Mom Entrepreneur Burner Half-Assed Writer Now Living on SSD Disability and What The Fuck Happened’

Look forward to my next installment ‘The List’
Hoping it will cheer me up as the razor blades are downstairs in the basement and my damned walker won’t fit in the stairway.

And of course my solemn pledge to you all: No more whining. Hell that’s worth the price of admission alone. OI!

walker locked to pole

~Miss R

Calling Mr. Rogers

evil banjo.

This is an old duplex. The neighbors and I share the front porch. One of them is a drummer, and in fact I’ve played a gig with him before.

Six months ago he decided to teach himself the banjo.

When the weather gets over 63F outside said neighbor will sit on the porch and practice. On Monday he was out there for HOURS. Playing the same three chord tune.

Over and over and over he played until I could hear my brain cells explode . Barely, as the banjo was already drowning out the stereo, voices in my head, and traffic noise on the street.

Normally we don’t have a problem. In the summer the windows are open, and my grand piano and vocals (with a mic) can he heard on the street. All of the guys next door play in a band and practice in their basement. Many Sunday mornings we’ve awoken to the dulcet sounds of a new punk song. Which is fine. Dig punk. They’ll all sit outside in the summer and jam –acoustically- as well.

It usually works out. Maybe it’s the upcoming surgery, tinged with the traditional depression and agitation. Whatever the reasons I wanted to open the door, walk the five feet over to  my neighbor and bash his skull in with that fucking banjo.

If I hear the same three chords again it will be sad for his family and friends. But a blessing to the musical scene in Reno.

Please won’t you be my neighbor?

~Miss R

-cartoon by Fuzzy Gerdes-

Atkins for Alkies: Part Deux

Dresden Dolls... MY Alcoholic Friends

Atkins for Alkies and
My Alcoholic Friends

So I just found out that my favorite snack was FULL of carbs. Sugar Free popsicles.
These were the generic type. The REAL Popsicle brand has more.

The ‘Atkins’ special ice cream bars –labeled exactly that way by Bryers- have 9 carbs.
Bad. Bad Carbs.
Do not allow a neurotic bi (polar) woman on a diet and expect anything but a strict and obsessive adherence to said regimen.

I’d say that this is the reason I haven’t been losing weight for 2 days. The popsicles. But it’s probably the thirteen grains of rice and 6 refried beans that I got at the Mexican restaurant Saturday.
Bastards wouldn’t just give me the meat and separate the carb portion on to my companion’s plate.

So just for YOU. My Alcoholic Friends. Is a way to absolve yourselves. And feel better about the 2 days you go without booze.
Wait 2 days? Didn’t I say three days in the first post?
Oh well.

Anyway for your perusal and enjoyment… carbs in your favorite Tasty Beverage. Cheers!

We’ll start with a Reno fave…

Serving: a shot
Calories: 110
Carbs: 0


Serving: A bottle
Calories: 150
Fat: 0
Carbs: 15 G (waaaah)


Serving: 3.5 oz (WTF there are only 4 glasses in a bottle)
Calories: 70
Carbs: 2 G


Serving: A shot
Calories: 100
Carbs: 0 (this is weird because it’s so sweet)

Seems the worst is beer. Sad because there are so many homemade and craft beers available these days.

So my fatty friends all I can tell you is to give up the seemingly great sugar free popsicles and take up alcoholism. Not only will you lose weight faster but hell, you won’t even remember not eating.
It’s okay. Thank me when you hit that AA meeting. In your Size 2 dress.

Look for tomorrow’s Blog:
‘How I quit smoking for 12 years, then started, and need to get off the F**king Commit Lozenges. Again’

~Miss R

NCIS makes me want to eat

Caf-Pow Calories

NCIS makes me want to eat. The characters are always eating. Really.

They spend 20 out of the 45 minutes of show time chasing the bad guys but the remaining minutes…. eating.

Looks good too. Always wrapped in foil or butcher type paper.

Could be gyros, burritos, wings, big-ass burgers, Indian food Chinese you just don’t know. All you can discern is that they are always munching down. And drinking decent coffee.

A Wendy’s commercial makes crave a burger, Taco Bell a taco, McDonald’s a vomitorium, jeez even Denny’s looks good at 3:00 am. When I’m still awake.

Apparently the characters don’t have kitchens in their make-believe homes. They only eat at work. Don’t even start me on the donuts and coffee.

Don’t think it’s the F**ing diet I’m on either. These characters are WRITTEN to eat. A lot. The actors are all thin though. Scratch your head. I do. McGee scares me this season.

Can hardly wait until I get off of this diet. Or the TV breaks.

~Miss R

Dammit. Give me a Size 12 Dress and a ciggie.

Atkins for Alkies -Or- How To Lose 10 Pounds in Under a Month

Lose Weight The YoYodyne Way!

Welcome chubbies, chubbettes, fatties, drunkards and of course my family which is monitoring my every move. Wait. That’s the government.

Gimme a chance to adjust the tinfoil. Okay we’re good now. So Chubby. Let’s talk.

Don’t want to give up wine or gin totally? Can no longer ski or exercise as much due to a physical disability? I have great news for you!

Make a few adjustments and TA DA!  Lose 10 pounds in less than a month. We will pay you to lose weight! No. Not really.

Here’s how you do it!

1.      No fucking exercises –unless your Physical Terrorist prescribes it for your back. Trust me it burns zero calories

2.      Eat ONLY meats (red meat, chicken, fish, pork) and green veggies. -shudder-

3.      4 oz of cheese max a day (as much of the Kraft Parmesan for seasoning as you want though)

4.      Eat as MUCH as you can stand. I fucking hate celery but am eating it with cream cheese.

5.      DRINK a half gallon of wine or gin every 3 days or whenever the diet starts to really piss you off

6.      No sugar, bread, popcorn, wheat, potatoes, etc

7.      Okay if you can exercise then go for it. I miss the long walks

I do not recommend this diet for everyone. Hell, if you need to lose 5 or 10 pounds you’re just freaking vain.

If you need to lose 30+ pounds though it works pretty dammed well. No paying for ‘pre-planned meals’, no hours at the gym picking up e-coli from the Stairmaster. Best of all… you can have a damned cocktail every so often.

It’s the ‘Induction’ portion of the Atkins diet but with Tasty Beverages added.  And it works as well as the original!

If you were one of the cool kids who called me fatso, kicked me out of softball and the sandbox then stop reading right now. Piss off. If I could hire you to clean the San Francisco Greyhound Bus Station Women’s Room with your toothbrush I would. Damned economy prevents me from fulfilling many wishes.

Anyway, I have tried every diet known to mankind:

Weight Watchers at age 11: middle aged women pointing out every square in the quilt they’d knitted to denote a pound lost. Uhhhh. was already listening to Diamond Dogs by Bowie. Freaking knitted afghans?

Jenny Craig in my 30’s: Great deal! Nice people, a few walks around the block a day, kind help every day of the week. Cool! Until they told me the cost of their ‘special food.’

Mushroom Diet: Remember that gross thing with fungus in a Tupperware and you were supposed to drink the juice from this crap? Ugh. Early 90’s hell.

In my mid 20’s and early 30’s I also had a fine cocaine diet (er, habit) while living in NYC.  Kept the weight off. Also had a CLEAN damned house. Hey it was the 80’s, it was the law back then.

Then I got married (ex-husband Number One), had a daughter, sat at a desk all day…. to once again find myself a  fatty.

Let’s face it. If any diet actually worked then NO ONE would be fat.

So try the YoYo-Dyne Way! Eat and Drink your way to American Apparel and stop spending all of your cash over at Omar The Tent Maker.

Bon appetite!

~Miss R

warning: YoYo-Dyne is not responsible for loss of appetite, heart palpitations, random sex with strangers, bitchiness, erections lasting more than 4 hours or acts of god.

Burning Man 2009

I met a gorgeous GORGEOUS young guy from New Zealand (at my age this means he was in his early 30’s. Maybe. Maybe late 20’s but who’s counting) while bartending.

This was at about 3:00 a.m. after the Burning Band (I play flute) gig when I showed up at camp with NO uniform or clothes except my name tag on my bra. Which as we all know basically says “If found wandering in a black-out please return to Spanky’s”

The hottie and I hit it off and when I closed up Spanky’s at 6:00 a.m. he came back to my RV. Well….. he’d been up too late. Uh huh.
I was nestled in the area with OC Charlie, Gina, Birdsong, Catfish, Lucky Bastard and the main Spanky’s thoroughfare.

I come out of the RV at 7:00 a.m. and OC Charlie, Gina and Birdsong are sitting outside our RV’s having a beer. As you do.
Charlie says “Hey Rach how’s it going in there?”
I say “Not so good dude. The guy’s having serious problems gimme a beer.”
After hanging out with my Spanker friends for a while I return to the RV.
Suddenly I hear – on a fucking Bullhorn- Charlie’s voice

This entire scenario went on for at least 5 hours. The poor bastard (gorgeous did I mention that) finally said good-bye in between bullhorn blasts and the rest of the camp looking over to see who was being ummmmm Blasted At.

Final Note: He came back 2 days later wondering where I was and asking if he could  join Spanky’s Village next year.
Mission Accomplished.

Craigslist? Oh dear god

So here’s the problem.

Once again I find myself sans boyfriend or dates. Okay, it’s not as if this hasn’t been a given in the last few years but it’s really getting to me now. Hell if I know why.

I’ve  given the heave-ho to the  few of the boy-toy/dinner dates over the past year or so. What’s the point? 

There was no future in any of them. Hell there was no present. Try discussing Mahler, Hawking or Bukowski  with a snow-boarding-hey-dude guy who’s idea of art is the new label cover on a bottle of $10.00 wine.

At least they looked good.  Of course so do I. With the lights off or my corset cinched tightly, then the lights dimmed.

So let’s say, just for a left-field example, that you were a late forty-something, eccentric, neurotic, darkly witty, moderately talented, exceptionally brilliant woman? Carrying around 20 pounds extra on her frame.  Oh, and you don’t like meeting guys in bars, your weekly outing consists of wrapping yourself up in a parka and a pair of skis to hit the slopes, or going to freaking Costco?

The roomie says ‘Oh Rach guys still hit on you.’ Yes they do! They’re


b)on day pass from the Helen Keller Institute

c)Northern Nevada Mental Health and Retard Services clients

Here’s the bottom line: I’m about ready to try…. Craigslist.

Don’t say it. I know. I’ve tried it before. Hell, it’s more than a crap shoot. It’s more like Russian roulette. With a fixed table.  And misshapen balls. But those are more balls than I’ve seen in a helluva long time.

Jimmy the Greek wouldn’t front me $5.00. That was before he was dead.

People my age are married, or divorced and married again. And divorced. Wait. So was I. Forget that. The point is that it’s a bitch to find so much as a date, nevermind a steady relationship. I can go out to a bar tonight and get laid but fuck that, pardon the pun. I’m getting too old for that crap. Not the fucking, the one night stands. Hell, I’m tired of being alone. Two of my marriages sucked but hopefully I’ve learned something. If not, at least I can check out those balls.


I’ve Been Off The Rails Larry Brown

Just finished a wonderful book by Larry Brown; Billy Ray’s Farm.

It’s the second book of his that I’ve read. The first one was Fay, a novel. Billy Ray’s Farm is a collection of essays and non fiction.

The writing is lyrical, smooth and graceful. Passages that are haunting, brutal, and overflowing with the author’s feelings cut into my heart and head.
Harry Crews has this effect on me, as does Faulkner and Flannery O’Connor.
What is it about the South that breeds such amazing artists?
I don’t think it’s the land itself but who knows. It’s as much a mystery as is the wealth of their talent.

I think about writing every day yet have been able to do so for some months now. Looking back I think maybe my father’s death contributed to my sliding off the rails a bit. My ‘coper’ broke and an inability to concentrate, take care of mundane daily tasks or find motivation for the things which made me sing died.
Note: The dust hasn’t settled over dad’s passing and as of two weeks ago I’m no longer speaking with my sister or my step-mother. More on that in another post.

My daughter arrived from southern California last night. She’s 14, 15 in August, and will be with me for a little over a month. I’m flying her back here again at Thanksgiving and again at the holidays. Then I’ll have to wait until next summer and hopefully three months then. If she doesn’t decide to stay here with me, which I doubt. She’s been with her father for a little over a year and seems settled there now.

Thus far I’ve seen Cate for about 20 minutes. Her friends here in Reno have consumed her time already. Several of them had taken a bus to the airport to meet her at the plane, unbeknownst to her or myself. Waiting for her plane to land a familiar gang of teens surround me, resplendent in their teen Goth glory. They had all taken a bus out to the airport.
I fed them pizza and cokes and her best friend spent the night.

This morning I took the two of them to Zephyr Books. Afterward Cate announced that she was going to another friend’s house to have pink (or purple) streaks put in her hair and also have that friend use her ‘professional piercing kit’ to pierce another hole at the top of her ear.
I rolled my eyes and said “Okay. This should well.”

In 15 minutes I’m off to pick the little demons up at the Starbucks down by the Truckee River, across from the movie theater.
Then I’m taking best friend back to her house.

Cate wants to watch Shawn of the Dead tonight and eat popcorn and candy. Sounds like a plan.

Goddess only knows what tomorrow will bring but it’ll surely be interesting.
Hormonal Outsider Teenager + Angst = Rachael’s Interesting Summer.
If only I could put my thoughts into the kind of writing which lifts me up. Maybe my favorite authors will send a muse over in dreams tonight.
I can hope but better yet I can start writing again.

~Miss R

My Reno

Reno, Nevada downtown

Reno, Nevada. We both look better at night

After languishing in bed for a full 4 hours of sleep last night it was up and off to a waiting room full of desperate uninsured indigent to wait for a doctor’s appointment.
Yes, that would make me one of the above mentioned group.

First come first served (and boy do you get what you pay for) so it was a long-ass wait. For a short-ass visit.

On the way home I passed by the courthouse where I was treated to a group of fabulously bedecked women playing rhythm instruments and waving a sign proclaiming “Prom Queens for Peace!”
Earlier I’d driven through our neon strewn downtown, narrowly avoiding tourists, drunken businessmen, gamblers, Stephen Hawking in his souped-up Diet Coke-Menthos powered wheelchair and the resident homeless. Say, is that last an oxymoron? Anyway, prom dresses bedecking men and women with protest signs didn’t strike me as particularly odd.
Crosswalks and streetlights mean nothing in this town. Drive at your own peril my friends.

As a trip to the doc’s is normally depressing it seemed a fine idea to stop by Zephyr Books. This is a fairly new used book store located on Virginia and only a few blocks from my house. I was craving another Harry Crews book.
Nothing like a bit of seriously twisted southern gothic to cheer me up.

I asked the proprietor where to look and he directed me to the fiction section where, alas, there were no Crews books to be found. So I diligently looked for something else to cheer me up. Perhaps John Fante, Bukowski, or Augusten Burroughs.
Seems I’m going through a fiction phase right now. I vacillate between this genre and the physics and science tomes. Depends on my mood.
Doesn’t everything.

Well I did find Running with Scissors (recommended by my friend Rebecca) which cheered me up. I also found The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins, which surprised me since I was about to order a new copy from Amazon this week. The latter was recommended by TK who is reading it now. 
So a bit of fiction and a bit of non-fiction in the mix for this week.
It’s a nifty bookstore. Check it out.

This afternoon it was time to get out of the house again. The sun came out even though the fucking Reno afternoon winds are blowing. I took a walk around my new neighborhood. A strange mix similar to my old place. Immaculately kept Craftsmen homes from the 1920’s next to unkempt 1930’s bungalows next to beautiful brick homes built anywhere from 1910 to the mid 1940’s.
It’s pretty cool. There’s so much to look at if you have an eye for architecture and, well, life in general.

The reason I was able to take a walk was that damned wind. I was supposed to be out on the Reno Chicken Cam Project.
Suffice to say that it involves Nino (one of the other Producers from the TV station where I used to work), similar video mavens, and of course a live chicken fitted with a harness and wireless video cam.
The shoot was supposed to start downtown in front of the El Cortez (a hotel and peculiar bar) at 4:00 and move on from there.
I got an email informing me that the possibility of the chicken literally being blown down the street may put a damper on the project. So, shooting was cancelled for today.

That brings us to right now; where I sit at my desk listening to Joe Jackson, an American Spirit burning in the ashtray, beverage of choice at hand and typing this treatise. I gotta tell you that tomorrow may not bring me as many glimpses into Life in Reno.
Unless I leave the house.

~Miss R

Rachael’s Guide: How to Tell if you are Nocturnal

Shit I do in Reno at night

It’s my Bondage Barbie, roasting on an open fire.  Nocturnal Behavior is directly responsible for brilliant works of art such as this.

Here are a few definitions to use as a primer for this blog.

Nocturnal – active and feels better at night
Diurnal – active and feels better during the day
Repuscular – active and feels better primarily during twilight, i.e., at dusk and dawn (freaks)

Rachael’s Guide: How to Tell if you are Nocturnal

1.   You feel half alive until close to 7:00 p.m.
2.   You believe that ‘morning people’ should be lined up and summarily executed
3.   You can’t figure out why the only place to get a burger after 2:00 am in Reno is The Little Nugget or the slimy Denny’s over on Wells
4.   Music sounds better, and should be played louder, at night
5.   You’re a:
a)  musician b) police officer c) graveyard shift worker d) blackjack dealer. You LIKE the hours

6.   The cat gets more sleep at night than you do
7.   Going to bed a 2:00 am seems pretty damned early
8.   Waking up to sunshine and birds singing makes you want to hork
9.   Your prescription sleeping pills have little or no effect
10.   You’re sick of being told that you have a ‘sleep disorder’
11.  That great tan during the summer months confuses your friends.   This amuses you and you continue to visit the tanning salon. After dark.
12.   Your best work is done at night.
13.   When you do try to sleep you’re constantly thinking of ideas, getting out of bed, and typing them into Word.
14.   You spend an inordinate amount of money on high-end eye concealer.
15.   Your sunglasses cost more than your first car
16.   It’s not insomnia asshat, it’s my period of waking hours
17.   You know every free porn site on the net

Friday night, during ‘normal’ evening hours, I watched a new episode of Numbers. You already know how exciting my Friday nights are.
Anyway, what music is playing during the opening scene? The Underdog by Spoon.
I listed their album on my Top 10 Albums of the Year post and the song itself as my fave from the CD.

A prime example of how living the Nocturnal Life has benefits. Catching up on T.V. culture as your evening begins at 10:00 p.m. or discovering new music after 1:00 a.m. -while searching through your favorite porn sites. When the two combine it’s magical.
Current Television. Episodes and Barbie Amelioration. Porn and Incredible Music.
Batteries not included.

Sunshine Blondes may have more fun but insomniac Brunette/Red/Purple highlighted gals get the goods.

~Miss R

Currently listening:
Lagrimas Negras
By: Bebo & Cigala
Release date: 22 June, 2004

—- image courtesy of ME so don’t even think about using it without permission

Attention! General Boredom and Major Apathy!

Survey Says….

1. It’s 2AM on the weekend, and you are not home. You are more than likely:
dead in a ditch covered with petrol

2. What’s the last thing you spent more than $100 on?
car insurance. grrrrrr

3. What do your bank checks look like?

4. Where did the shirt you are currently wearing come from?
hot topic in denver

5. Name something that is on your Christmas wish list
peace and love for all mankind. Not really. Fuck that. A car would be good though

6. What color is your toothbrush?
what toothbrush

7. Name something you collect.
Ouija boards. And dust.

8. Last restaurant you ate at?
Legal Seafood in Boston. Nowhere in fucking Reno that’s for sure.

9. Last person you bought a Birthday card for?
my niece

10. What is your worst bad habit?
that is almost a double negative you cretin. So, I’m gonna say grammer.

11. Name a magazine you subscribe to?

12. Your favorite pizza toppings?
Extra cheese

13. Who’s number were you looking up the last time you used a phone book?
Who the hell uses a phonebook? Google!

14. Who is the person that you love most?
My daughter

15. What is the last thing you cooked?
Baked Ziti with a ricotta cheese, garlic and mushroom sauce.

16. Name something you wouldn’t want to buy used?
a dildo

17. Which shoe do you put on first?

18. What is the last thing you remember losing?
my mind. I think it’s under the couch though

19. What is the ugliest piece of furniture in your house?
the tv/stereo cabinet

20. Last thing you bought and ended up returning?
a boyfriend

21. What perfume/cologne do you wear?
Coco Chanel or Opium

22. Your favorite board game?
I hate board games since I used to sell them in my store

23. Last board game you played?

24. Where did your vehicle come from?
a fucking retard

25. If a movie was made about your life what would the theme song be?
over my head

26. You’re sad, who can cheer you up easily?
~c or ~t or ~j

27. What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to?
who does that kind of crap at my age? Most are on marriage number 2 and 3 these days.

28. What house cleaning chore do you hate to do the most?
Scrubbing the floors. I keep wrecking my stockings in that French maid outfit.

29. What is your favorite way to eat chicken?

30. It is your birthday. You hope the cake is?
filled with men!

Currently listening:

Wincing the Night Away

By: The Shins

Release date: 23 January, 2007

DX-7s injuries and other nonsense

As if it’s not enough that I’m covered head to toe in bruises from bouncing up and down on a trampoline (don’t try this at home kids. Not if you’re over 40) I just fell off my back steps onto rough, dirty and broken-up asphalt.
Now I am also covered in scrapes and blood.
Well, the blood is just kind of seeping at this point. I also ruined one of my very favorite books as it was in my hand at the time. It’s now bound in shredded paper and blood splatter.
Or as Henry Lee would say… brud spratter.
And no I have not been drinking. Just brain drained from a day at this computer.

Other than that today has consisted of a walk and much swearing over Tinfoil Hat Client Guy and his fucking Winchester Mystery Website.
This goddamned thing will NEVER be done. Writing the code isn’t bad; it’s the research and trying to find catalog numbers which don’t match up from one source to another.

The best thing today was getting my DX-7 back… in working condition. Ahhhhhh that IS nice.
TK has been working on it for months, and it had been at his house in various states of disrepair.
The sad part was that with the keyboard TK also dropped off every possible personal item of mine which remained at his place.
Hell I already knew it was over but gah that was like ripping open a newly sewn incision. Perhaps the fall this afternoon and resulting scrapes and cuts are the physical manifestation. Or perhaps I just indulge in too many metaphors.

I did receive a Fabulous Parting Gift though! TK made me a copy of the newest Donald Fagan CD (which rocks and I’ve been listening to it all day), along with a copy of Q’s Jook Joint; a Quincy Jones CD with every possible fine musician playing on it.

“So Rachael Thanks for playing my Game! We’re sorry you’re such a complete Loser but here’s a copy of our Home Game! Good Luck in all your future endeavors.”

I exit. Stage right.

Alright where the hell did I put the Neosporin and Band-aids?

~miss r

Currently listening :
Morph the Cat
By Donald Fagen
Release date: By 14 March, 2006

The movie of my life

Thanks Janie!

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Cult Classic
Quirky, offbeat, and even a little campy – your life appeals to a select few. But if someone’s obsessed with you, look out!
Your fans are downright freaky.

Your best movie matches: Office Space, Showgirls, The Big Lebowski

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

Currently listening:

Excitable Boy
By: Warren Zevon
Release date: 25 October, 1990