Thursday, March 14, 2002

Dear friend or Email Recipiant,

Do you ever wish that you could be free from financial
worries and be able to retire early?

I know I due, and I have found a opportunity that will really
imprest you, if you are willing to work a few hours a week
on a proven system in a relaxed low pressure environment, (Not Watkins!)
that will bring you an income forever and ever. In fact, with this system,
even if you are not active, you can still succeed, so why look
any further, why have a real job like those suckers at McDonalds? When
money is growing on tree's.

Being in the right place at the right time, does not happen
often to many of us, but you are there right now. I have
spent three years looking for that perfect business opportunity(Not Kirby Vacums)
and I can tell you there are not many around. Unless you have email, then
they are always there getting rich in your Inbox.

About two months ago, I was sent information about a home
based business(Not Amway!), and when I took the time to look and really
read all the info on it; well, I was impressed! This system (Not Cutco knives!)
is really so easy and simple to make a reasonable recurring
income, in just a short time, I was earning money to put aside
for my pets, some for my crack addiction, gave me the ability
to improve my general quality of living as an unemployed college grad.
I was also able to take a well deserved holiday for the first time since

Please think about this as a real opportunity to earn an unrealistic
amount of money. I am not talking about hundreds of thousands,
but I am saying that this system on its own, without you having
to do a thing, will provide you and your family with an extra super
above - average income of special money. At least $40 a day!

This business has given me more time with my family and friends and thier
friends who are impressed by money and cars, more little luxuries, being able to
travel and also, which I think is really important in this world of uncertainty,
money for rainy day (an English phrase meant to not litterally refer to a rainy day!).

If you would like further information on this "real" business (Not pyramid scheme!)
opportunity emailed to you, please respond at this e-mail address:

Make sure "more-info-please" is in the subject line or nothing will
be received by you from me.

Saturday, February 02, 2002

The Canadians Are Coming

So here's what has been happening in my life since my last posting.
Peter and I have still been putting up with each other and loving every minute of it. Although the L word hasn't been uttered. We did the family wedding last weekend when Pete's second cousin Maryilee got hitched up in Bemidji. This was the first wedding date for me and it was as harrowing as I expected. The whole while I was waiting for some fourth aunt on the bad side of the family to ask us if we were serious and when we were getting married. Or when the baby would be born. Or when we were going to move back to the Range and live like the rest of the family. But it didn't happen, at least to me. Pete's cousin Ben, brother of the bride, asked him if I was knocked up while they were up at the bar, but he blew it off as the liquor talking. And apparently for Ben it's always the liquor talking. Up on the Range in mid-winter, the only thing to do snowmobile and drink. Or icefish. The highlight of the weekend was meeting Pete's Grandfather Julius Rothschild who drinks sourmash and goes on rants only an Ironranger Italian could say and not be locked up in the huskow. Apparently old Granddad was a goalie for the Blackhawks back in the days before helmets or facemasks and took a puck off the noggin while playing up in Montreal. Since then, he is known to yell and scream whenever he hears Canada mentioned. He yells, "Canadians! Those Bastards!" And then goes back to talking or staring into his drink or what ever he does to pass the time between anti-Canukian explosions. The family had to lock up his 30.06 when that song from Titanic was popular and he'd start threatening to kill that damn Frenchie bitch Celine Dion. Luckily the family kept him on mostly water diet at the wedding and there was no mention of Canada or Canada related explatives. Needless to say there was no Windsor or Canadaian Club served at the cash bar.

Work is going well. Manager Doris went on her mid-winter Mexican pool boy romp as she does every winter. She came back with a full-body tan and a haggard look only a week of drinking cheap tequila will get you. Think Keith Richards meets Cruela DeVille. Or hell, even CeeCee DeVille for that matter. While she was away I was sorta the acting manager although some lackie from HQ was sent down to be the offical boss. He sat in the back and recovered from long nights at a Holiday Inn lounge and I made sure things ran smoothly. He said the Holiday Inn lounge is the beauty of playing by out-of-town rules. On thursday I took a phone call from his wife back in Duluth and had to duck away from the interrogation. She heard a perky female pick up and got immediately suspicious and accusing. I told her that her man was in the can and that he was to ugly to sleep with and she seemed ok with that answer. Apparently she knows him well enough to have bought it. My moto is always state the obvious and people will respect you. But all in all I'm moving up in the world and edging towards the american dream whether I like it or not. Even if I do get the manager's position out at the Burnsville Mall, I'll never live in the suburbs.


Tuesday, January 01, 2002

Long Time No Write

I must first start off by apologizing to all my on-line and real life friends for isolating and not returning your calls over the past few months. You see, I've been in a whirlwind romance with my Halloween Guy and am the type of girl who ignores good friends when I've got a beau on the line. Coffee with a friend is good, but coffee with a guy who puts out is ever so much better. I'm a girl, but I'm a girl who knows the value of a good lay. And he's fun to be around after the sex so thats a plus. So here's a quick update and I promise I'll call all of you today and we'll get together. Its my resolution in fact.

So you might recall that I met this cute guy back on Halloween. He works at the Irish pub down the street and he's a fine arts senior at the UofM. His name is Peter Rothschild. No he doesn't have money, although with a name like that he should have been born wearing an ascot. After our meeting on All Hallow's Eve, he called me up the next week and we met for coffee. He turned out to be a nice guy whose interesting without being too narcisistic or too high maintaince. He is planning to graduate in the spring after taking five years to finish up. And he's like me: Good education and no marketable skills other than service industry serf. So he'll be a bartender for a few years until he decides on a grad school. Right now he's thinking of Michigan or orther Big Ten schools but thats way down the line and who knows what will happen. In the catagory of Who Knows What Will Happen, we've gotten serious, well serious isn't the right word - not like we've moved in together or anything - exclusive is a fairly accurate definition. We have been seeing each other on a daily basis. Alternating nights sleeping at each others' apartments and can recognize each others' voice on the phone with a simple, "It's me." I' ve only gotten to the "It's Me," stage once before and that was in fifth grade with Marty Johnson so I guess this is a first. I've done the alternating nights bit before, but its different when its apartments across the city and not dorm rooms two floors apart. Its also a first that I've met his folks. In Minneapolis so many people are from some where else in the state and nobody has their parents living nearby so its a big deal to meet the folks. So you have to go out of your way and risk getting snowbound in a car or someone's home to visit the parents in the out-state. BTW, there is no greater fear than to visit for the afternoon and end up forced to stay the night in The Parents house because of the winter weather. The whole where are You sleeping issue should not come up on the first meeting. Its like opening the deal with, "So I'm the bitch sleeping with your son!" But luckily neither visit to the respective families ended with pretend sleeping on the couch in the basement rec room and lying to the Mom. Both were simple non binding handshake, "So you're in college..." meetings that allows the name of the significant other to be brought up in future phone conversations with home and people will have a face to connect to the name. I think most Mom's suspect the current beau or girl of being some terrible loser or dope freak or STD riddled whore until they meet and can pass judgement on their own. I think they also have a stock list of interview questions that probe the underlying motivation of the new fling without breaking the fragile membrane of polite conversation. Siblings on the other hand have no such format and are free to probe and investigate with all the tack of Ghangis Khan pillaging a village. With my sister around, a sledge hammer to the forehead would be more discrete. I think my parents knew this and stayed inbounds while Jenny did a Mike Wallace on his intentions with me. Pete did a good job however of deflecting and being non-specific without appearing evasive. He grew up watching Ollie North facing the sub-committee and knows how to block his sweat glands from going into over drive in moments of crisis. So it was amicable. Handshakes were given. Embarassing comments were made like, "So we finally get to meet Mr. Wonderfull!" and respective fathers purchased respective mid-priced meals at family run resteraunts. It was during the hollidays but not on Christmas eve or Christmas day, so no gifts were presented, no committments made. No one was made part of the family, no expectations on Easter dinner or future family gatherings were offered. No hands were offered in marriage and no dowery of goats provided to the Rothschild family. So if it all goes South tommorrow the hurt will be limited to the direct participants and not the extended families. It was not as bad as I had feared. We both came away with a new found appreciation all both our grudges against our families and can now empathize much more authentically than prior to having direct contact with the offending parties. We both understand why we do not live next door to our parents and why a twice monthly phone call is all that is needed at the current time. And best of all we didn't go running away hysterical and we both return each others calls. All in all it was a productive month. But you can see why I haven't been returning email or phone calls. Its hard work falling in love.
I'm beginning to think that relationships can be measured by a function of relative honesty. The early stages are all lies. I'm the most interesting person on the earth and you my dear are a stunning Greek God. This is where we are currently. The next stage is the more rational stage of partial lies. I do like your family and yes you are a good cook. I am told this stage comes after a year or so. I've never gotten past the total lie stage so this is all taken from anacdotal information. The final stage is extreme and ruthless honesty. I am told many couples never get to this stage or if they do its seperation or divorce which prompts the couple into finally telling it like it is. You should have never taken that job because you are out of town more than I want you to be. I'm attracted to other women, but I still love you. Or Jerry Springer fronts both parties a thousand bucks to get honest in front of millions of people. I stand on a policy of honesty and aspire one day to total honesty and hope the relationship can handle it. But for now, I'm fine with the small lies and yes I orgasm everytime we make love. Oh, I mean have sex. We have sex and not make love all though there is a possibility in the future. I've told him I really like spending time with you and he's mentioned that he Loves my smile. But neither has steped across the gaping hole of, "I love you."

Thats enough for now. Maybe more about work later today.

Wednesday, November 14, 2001

sorry i've been silent. I was out of town visiting the folks and then when I got back had more headaches at Cookie Heaven as the post Tday rush is putting Manager Doris over the edge. I also got a call from my Halloween guy and surprise surprise, he's a nice guy who calls when he says he will and doesn't appear to be a serial killer or a slacker with no ambition other than live off the sweat of a hard working woman. So we've been spending time together in between his classes and my work. Nothing physical yet, but who knows what the future will hold. More later
Updated the comments to a new version. Sorry we've been without for a while. Damn I wish I had total access to the web from where ever I found myself - ie parents house.

Hey, I seen my reviews up at BlogYou! COol to see my name up in big bright lights of the city. Ok, so it was a few lame insights on a few average weblogs but hey, the web is all about self promotion and I've been in need of recognition for a long time. Thanks tom and ed for making it all happen. BTW, TOm, just because I mention my crush on the sweater guy or my new thing don't think you're not my best lover ever. He doesn't write poetry for me yet - even hidious poets are better than none.:-)

Saturday, November 03, 2001

I had a good Halloween. Not great but interesting in a way that a belly full of candy just can never be. I got home from work at the usual time and carved a few jackolaterns that I had been planning for a week. Its funny how the idea in my mind never makes it thru the cutting phase. I guess I should have gotten an art degree as well so my pumpkins would like as scary as they do in my mind. But this happens every year.
I stood by the door waiting for all the neighborhood kids to trick or treat but none showed up so I had two bags of Tootsie Roll's that I didn't want to have to eat by myself. My roomie went back to her parents home for the holiday(? is Halloween an actual holliday for just a reason to eat candy?) so I was alone. I decided to avoid another night of the single's blues and walked down the street to find something to do. I walked by In The Groove but the cute sweater guy wasn't there - I fear he quit and got another job so now I'll never be able to talk with him. So I walked further down the street and passed an Irish pub/resturant that I had seen from the bus but never up close. It was marginally empty so I went inside and ordered an Irish Coffee. While I was sitting at the bar drinking my drink -alone on a holliday- I started to joke around with the bartender who was a 20-ish guy with dark hair and a good smile that wasn't too much Sears catalog or politicians smile. I'm pretty strict on my smile catagorization if you didn't already know. :-) And he mentioned the interesting tidbit about how in America people spell whisky without an "e" but in Ireland itself, it always contains the "e" as in Whiskey. Now I must confess that I already knew that from Trival Pursuit as a kid, but it was nice that he was trying to flirt. I countered with the little known fact that in Sumatra, they spell coffee with only one "e" but here in the US we use two "e's." He laughed and gave me another smile. I typically start off with a lame joke such as this as a measuring tool. If he laughs then you know he's got a cracked sense of humor like I do and he is interested enough to over look the stupidity of my first joke. This weeds out a lot of the jerks who only want a logical, linear girl they can dizzy up for a quick roll in the sack. So with his smile and laugh I knew I was in something good. The place was emptying out so we talked for a long time and I had two more mixes of stimulant and depressant. I found that he was a senior at the Uof M in the fine arts program so we discussed art and authors and the local music scene. We both lamented the fact that the winter was closing in and that we would soon have to wear 40 pound coats and Moon Boots just to fend off the cold when you run out to get the mail. We disected the whole childhood Minnesota experience of winter: parents starting the car 20 minutes before you leave so it will warm up, school closings on WCCO, having snow shoved down your coat by the bigger kids on the playground and that first warm day in March when you can take off the 40 lbs coat and absentmindedly drag it thru melting snow on your way home. Its funny how people my age always drift back to talk about childhood with a mix of longing and happiness that its over. So it was getting late and I said I needed to get up early (which I do) and I mentioned that I may stop by some other night for the coffee and to see if he's working. He said that'd be great but how about if we go for coffee somewhere else sometime? I tried to look excited but not to excited and said sure ( I hate how I try to be indiferant when I'm truly not) and we exchanged numbers. He mentioned how he had a big test on Monday so he probably wouldn't call untill next week and I said thats fine cause I've got a lot to do this weekend anyway even though I have nothing to do just like every weekend. It kills me how bad I am with the closing. I can be there every second of the talking - honest and connected - but then when its time to decide if this will be continued or if this was it, I get back into my old junior high self and put up a wall of coolness. I wanted to demand that he call me on Thursday so we could talk about Degas but I couldn't be so foreward or could I? I stammered something about Degas and the phone machine (?) as I backed for the door and probably sounded like a drunk school girl but hey I'm learning this game as I go along.

My only questions are: Why is a guy who looks to be Italian working in an Irish pub? and Will he ever call me?

So it was better than eating a mountain of candy and could be the start of something new. I guess I'll have to move on from sweater guy, but I'll keep the door open in case he should return. I never like to close the books on someone before the last chance has expired, so he'll stay in the possibility catagory for a while until I am certain he has moved on to something better.
BONUS PS: This is a great chick writer that I highly recommend.

Tuesday, October 30, 2001

Ok, so I survived today on nothing but a small drink of flat "Ole Fashioned," ginger ale and two dry rye crisp crackers. It was such a hella craxy day at Cookie Heaven that I could not take a moment to go out to get food or even smoke. So you know it was really bad. Cause I always find time for smoking. So I had a few seconds and so I found the two crackers in my "EMPLOYEE LOCKER," and the ginger ale was in the staff fridge with the initials BM on the cover so I think it was mine. I have a habit of drinking most and then forgetting it in the fridge. I hate having the initials BM, inspite of Bob Marley also having the initials BM, cause my mom is a nurse and when I was a child she always called a Number 2(ie. a shit) a BM. This referred to the term, Bowel Movement, which in medical language means to take a shit. So whenever I see my own initials I'm cursed to remember that tidit of a horrible childhood. But I drank it anyway cause I was really thirsty and cause I had consumed way to much Sumatrian coffee when I first got to work. I ususally have coffee in the morning before work and then get hunger only after I'm a work so I take time to get something from the deli next door but today we were so busy that I couldn't go. I asked Manager Doris if I could take just a minute but I got one of those looks like, "If I killed you right now it wouldn't matter cause all you kids look alike to me..." So I stayed and worked the pans. We have a machine that holds all the cookie dough and then squirts them all out into a nice neat grid of uncooked cookies on a pan but it was broken today so we had to do all the pans by hand and boy are my hands tired. It mysteriously malfunctioned sometime between yesterday morning and this morning. It had the air of somebody in the crew having done something to break it but no one was willing to say who it was that would have their pay docked. I was working front yesterday morning so I didn't clean down the machines so it must have been one of the lackies Jon Jon The Cute Little Boy or Stan the 40-ish drop out from the blue collar work force guy who just started. The rumour is that Stan is a distant relative of Manager Doris as they talk way to much for a Manager and the new guy. Maybe she's boinking him, I donno. I always think she's boinking someone, but thats just perverted ol me. But no one was talking and there were a lot of stares up at the ceiling and people inspecting the dandriff on their collars this morning when Manager Doris told everyone the dough squirting machine was down. I was in the clear on this one so I had the luxury of looking around and a lot of people looked guilty so I assumed someone did something really bad to the dough squirting machine and had told a few other people to keep quiet. I'm outa the loop sometimes and its good. I'll be sly over the next few days and listen around corners and thru doors until I figure out who did it and then its on to contemplating what to do with the information. I need to be fast about it however cause Manager Doris is also VERY good about learning the secrets. I think she has the place bugged and can sit in her office with headphones on and listen in to what people are saying. She may even know who did what to which machine already. And is waiting to allow the "anger" to build up inside before she unloads on the poor sucker and fires him. My bet is on Jon Jon, he's cute but irresponsible. Thats a deadly combination in my opinion, but terribly attractive in a man. But thats just my dysfunctional love life coming thru.

Thursday, October 25, 2001

I just wanted to make a public rebuttal to all the nasty email I got from the tree hugging environmentalista about my poosting of the other in regards to making a dog lick peanut butter off my mouth when I was 12 years old. I come here to the blog and empty my sole of all its baggage thinking that it will be responded to with support and encouragement. Its all about expression. But NO! I get email from PETA eating hacks that have nothing better to do than decry people for mistreatment of animals. Well thats their opinion that I mistreated Sandy the dog, not mine. I think this was a good memory from child hood about a trusting family pet, young grrls exploring relationships and romantic activities and sibling rivalry. I mean who doesn't enjoy stories of being mean to an older brother or sister. You out there with an old asshole who probably put you in the dryer and turned it on when you were six probably really enjoyed the victory of the younger sibling. I loved every minute of every time I trashed her at Shoots and Ladders or ripped out the hair on all her barbie dolls when she was at summer camp! Its part of growing up and learning to hate your family. Whats more american than that?
These are probably the same people who before 9.11 they were demonstrating against the Taliban and wanted something done and who are now protesting against the war that will finally oust those woman bashing MEN from the face of God's green earth. I mean, eventually you MUST run out of issues to parade around in and face the facts that the world doesn't need anymore cheerleaders or Gleeclub presidents when what it really needs are people of action who can take care of business and not complain when the shit hits the fan and the road gets unpleasant. The first rule of Buddhism is, "Life is sorrow." and if you read my blog get used to it cause I don't pull punches and I don't say I'm sorry for what I write.
Kiss my ass