Yes, that's right: A Pseudo Long Ass Update

...though it might prove to be short, as it's late, I'm tired, and I can't think too much'ns rights now...or maybe not...
( Snipped for your sanitation... )

It's late now, the bed is calling, and maybe I can get something read afore I konk out. Maybe not. But at least I know that I've had a good, full week behind me. Foundation for something full and happy ahead. Perhaps.

The only thing I'm resolving this year is to not let so long go by before seeing old, dear friends...and good new ones.

Happy Twelfth Night!

So for all y'all Greek Orthodox mo' fo's out there, MERRY XMAS!

I just love freaking out the folks on the other end of the phone today:

"Happy Epihany!"

"Huh?"

"It's Greek Orthodox Christmas...the day the 3 wise men visited?"

"Huh?"

"Well, Happy New Year then!"

"Oh, thanks, you too."

I told someone this morning that I revelled in obscure holidays. The funny thing is that they all understood Kwanzaa, and would laugh and say thank you when I was all "Happy Boxing Day! and Merry Kwanzaa!"

I should really start saying "Blessed Yog-Soggoth Ascension Eve!" and see how they react. God Bless Lovecraftian Mythos.

(no subject)

Well, today was as close to a complete wash as I have gotten in a while. Not only did I fail to get anything truly done at work, but I've seemed to misplaced an evening. Go fig.

I also found out that Hasbro, in another butt evil move, is closing down all of the Game Keeper and Wizard of The Coast Stores. This isn't a big deal to some, but as a game geek who doesn't have too many options left, I'm pissed. Rather. Especially since the WotC stores have made it hard for a lot of the smaller retailers. Bah. BAH. But I've already gone on the search for the random gaming store. I've got four alternatives around the greater LA area that I'm aware of. None-the-less, I'm gearing up for a mad dash to capitalize on the up and coming "everything must go" sales.

Met up with The Goddessannawoo for drinks and dinner, and catching up. I haven't hung with Ms. Thang in a while, and we's missed each other. She has breastest now, and they caught me by surpise. Home grown, but like, she used to be all "play other side." What they been feeding her, I ask!

Anna and I talked about this that and the other thing. My job hopes. Her application to the DGA, and the hell on earth she has to go through to get a foot in the door. Silly wanna direct person. But hey, she's tired of only SM and ASMing. She's looking for ADA, and the big chair. Good for her.

We talked about goals for the new year over our Happy Hour Vodka and salads. I mentioned to her that I have a list, which I hadn't thought about in a long time. Then we just sat around being catty. Just like old times. Save less high school humiliation.

We shuttled over to the mega record store in the shopping center, and spent a couple of hours pouring over all the musiks, video, and magazine magiks. Picked up a copy of The Who's Greatest Hits, and she debated on whether it was within her withers to spend the duckets on Underworld.

"Horrible fucking movie, and I loved every minute of it."

"But there is far too much man-butt in that film."

"Yeah, I know, but damn, it was all fwoosh! And Swfoom! And Leather...Oh, Leather...OH! And the men were all prrrrr..."

"I see only one woman in this film, and she's only leather clad."

"Too bad for you."

We strayed back and forth, and stopped in the special interest section; Anna had found Elaine Stritch's one woman, broadway show about her life.

"You should get this for your folks. They'd love it to death."

"Isn't that the one that you played for me on the way to Faire last year?"

"Yeah. It's to die for, huh?"

We decided that we'd done enough brousing for a while, and opted for the long walk back to our respective cars, and wished each other a happy 12 Drummers Drumming.

I turned on the car, swooped down PCH, hung a left onto Westminister, and then another onto Studebaker. I made it onto the 405, and rolled towards home, as the voice over my speakers chimm chimm cherree'd to me.

"I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth..."

Something about that rangs true, and I floored it, deciding to substitute the speed for real movement; the spinning of my wheels for velocity; music for emotion.

"I look pretty young, but I'm just backdated."

The 405 to the 710 to the 91 to Santa Fe. Back into it, and home again, like so much rain off the top of the house into the rain gutter. The stars are hidden here, but the sounds prove true to what they are. Nothing pretends to be anything but what it really is: Old. Tired. Dirty. Paved with half-hearted intentions.

I open the door to an empty house, like I seem to be doing so much more these days. Family gone out shopping for not enough eats, and spending too much money doing so. There are no messages on the machine, and the television is on.

The heater kicks in. Nothing left to do, but shower, shit, and sleep.

I look over my list of things to do before I die. And there are so many things. So many things undone.

"Well," I said to myself, "perhaps it's time to start moving on this." I put the list aside, and start perusing Live Journals. Maybe I can get some inspiration. Or at least some affirmation of life.