Entries from May 2005 ↓

Yesterday the boyfriend and I decided on a hike. We considered the gym, but we wanted some moderate, outdoor exercise so we headed to the park. We tucked bottled water and a Luna bar and trail mix into his backpack and set out for the woods.

We arrived at the park without incident, and pulled into a parking spot in a nearly empty lot. Almost immediately another car pulled in right beside us, despite there being 25 others empty all around. Before I could get out of the driver’s side the woman driving the vehicle parked right beside us had gotten out with her golden retriever and come around to greet me at my door.

"Oh! She sees a person! She can smell a person a hundred yards away." The woman was talking in a baby voice, very high-pitched. I struggled to get out of my car as her dog was sniffing my sneakers.

She could probably tell I wasn’t going to get all excited about her dog being in my personal space, so she went around to the boyfriend. He called the dog to him and got down on one knee and up in the dog’s face, letting this stranger’s pet lick him and climb all over. I joined the boyfriend and the woman’s conversation about how he hopes to convince me to get a dog that big once we move.

"Oh, goldens are great. They are so friendly. They just have such a good nature. I mean, I think you’d have to get a golden that was kind of off to get one that isn’t friendly."

About that time Friendly the Golden jumped up on me some more, then jumped up on the boyfriend a little bit before JUMPING ON MY CAR. That dog jumped up and started flailing around on the back of my car with his TOO LONG NAILS and scratched the paint on my car.

"Get down! That is not what she wants, you up there scratching her car." Brilliant observation, Einstein, but it seems the damage is done. "He’s just a puppy," she said, "I’ve got to train him not to do that." Despite my having sunglasses on I think she could tell I was a little pissed off. It wasn’t until she left that my anger started to swell.

Who THE FUCK did she think she was? All I was trying to do was to go to the woods to get AWAY from people, not be accosted by them and their poorly trained dogs. The woman’s lack of boundaries and control over her dog caused damage to my property. I didn’t ask to play with her dog. I didn’t want to be jumped on. And I certainly didn’t want my car getting dog scratches all over it.

I was fucking furious by this point. And I wasn’t just mad at her. I was mad at every delusional dog owner (and there are many!) who thinks you are going to love their mangy mutt as much as they do. Well, guess what crazy dog lovers: we don’t. Don’t come up to me with your dog assuming I want to talk about it. You are not allowed to let your dog jump on my clothes and slobber on me and FUCK UP MY CAR. I’m sick of having my space invaded and my crotch sniffed and my fucking car scratched.

A lot of dogs and their owners are great. My friend Shelly has two greyhounds that kick ass. Those are the most well behaved, laid back dogs I’ve ever seen. They rule. They have never once jumped on me or slobbered anywhere. They mostly just lie down.

I suppose I just wish that dog owners were more respectful of people who don’t fall in love with every dog they meet at first sight. And be willingly responsible for the damage their pet causes.

Is that so much to ask?
Oh, and one more thing. Don’t call them "goldens." Golden retriever doesn’t take that much more effort, and you sound less like a douche.

• My desk is directly behind one of the anchors. My head and body are fully covered by the anchors head since I’m kinda far back, but right above my head are televisions, one of which is playing the news that is being taped right in front of me. Which is weird. So, last week I sat way up in my chair to see if I could see me in the television, but as soon as the top of my head popped into view I freaked out and sat back down. No one watching would have noticed, but it gave me a little thrill.
• Driving home from work the other day I sang a song that I was making up as I went all the way home. My rhymes were sick, yo. I was cracking myself up the entire drive.
• When people left things at [the restaurant where I worked], like directions or a pamphlet or a photograph, I would keep it. Don’t know why, it’s kind of twisted, really. I just like found stuff.
• I had one too many tequilas last night and my brain’s a bit fuzzy. And I’m out of coffee. And the boyfriend works at a coffee roaster. Figure that one out.

Four state legislators and three others were taken away in handcuffs today after a two-year FBI undercover sting operation dubbed "Operation Tennessee Waltz." Ten of thousands of dollars in bribes were allegedly accepted by those arrested from a fake company called E-Cycle that was set up by officers. According to his indictment, one state senator, John Ford, threatened to kill anyone who tried to set him up.

Read more about this at my work site: Nashville is Talking.

Nearly two weeks ago Dan challenged me to write this entry. I am just now getting around to it. I think he counts half off if it’s late. Here is his for comparison, but the topic is A List of 5 Things that Society At-large Likes, Yet I Don’t Get:

1. Bananas - I don’t like banana anything. I hate banana milkshakes and banana-flavored candy and banana bread and banana pudding. All gross. Bananas are a food I have hated since the beginning of time. That, and raisins. (Though I always wanted to like raisins as a kid because the Sunmaid ones came in those cute, red boxes. I would try them every couple of years or so when I found the itty red box particularly cute, but would promptly spit them out every time.) I do like the idea of a fruit having such a handy-dandy, easy-to-remove wrapper. That’s pretty neat. But otherwise no way, no banana please, uh uh.

2. "Family Guy" - I am about to offend everybody I know, but that show is dumb. I just can’t get into it. TRUST ME, I’VE TRIED. People my age have found religion in the form of a stuck up, talking baby, and they are ready to tesify and witness and spread the word of "Family Guy". So, I’ve watched my fair share of the show just by living, and ya’ll it’s just not funny. It hurts me even.

3. Dogs - Dear Dogs, Get your sloppy, wet jowels off my new pants, thankyouverymuch. When you sniff my crotch it embarrasses me, and really and truly that is a major violation of my space. At that point you are invading my aura or something like it. I know that you want to jump up on me and give me disgusting mouth love, but you are heavy and your nails are too long and it hurts. Please stop it. And stop chasing me when I ride my bike, I get scared.

4. Cocaine - Sucks. You are an asshole when you are on it, and if you go "Oh, that’s not me" then are then you are a bigger asshole than the rest. I don’t want to listen to you blather on about fucking nothing while your bottom jaw is quivering and you’re chain smoking all up in my face. P.S. Your breath stinks and oh yeah, you’re broke.

5. Nerd Movies - Specifically Star Wars (all bazillion of them) and the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I didn’t see a single Star Wars movie until I was 18 years old, so I didn’t have that childhood nostalgia. I just kept falling asleep. The characters are flat as hell and the dialogue is stilted and I can’t feel a damn thing for any one on screen. Except apathy. Sure it’s pretty and boom-boom, fighty-fighty or whatever. It’s just not my thing. And I’m a big nerd, so isn’t that just a kick in the pants?

I think now I’m supposed to challenge three people to do it. I pick Kafkaesque, Number One Dana and Sarah B.

• It is still, after three weeks, fun to use my badge to open locked doors. You just have to hold it up to this tiny gray strip, then *boop*, you’re in.
• I walked by the dressing room where all the anchors and reporters get ready and I saw the most giant tackle box of make-up I have ever seen in my life. There were tiers and tiers of tubes and brushes and fancy powders. I don’t even like make-up that much but I had to try hard not to go in there and get a closer look.
• Heather Orne is really pretty. Like, a lot.
• I’m amazed I get anything done. I am currently sitting in my house in complete silence. There hasn’t been any noise for hours. But at work there are four televisions behind me, two of which usually have the sound on low volume. Then there is the scanner. And all the phone calls and receiver slamming and general banter. It’s been a lesson in focusing and I’m surprising myself with how well I’m doing.
• I accidentally jumped somebody in line for the microwave the other day. I felt like an ass. I didn’t know she was waiting.
• Despite being all blogged out, I often find myself sitting at my desk reading something really funny or inspiring online and I think to myself, "Yay!"
• The lure of the snack machine is intense.
• It is bizarre to have a set schedule. Calming, really. The week-to-week scheduling of the restaurant industry can make someone prone to anxiety a little bit edgy. I find comfort in stability and having every evening off and weekends too feels like a total luxury. I can easily see how it could become a rut, but I’m loving the predictability of it all so far.

I’ll admit it. I am blogged the fuck out. My mind is tired and my body is weary. Comments, archives, read more, trackback, about me, your ad here, rss feed. Fuck me, it’s all starting to look the same. You know things are crazy when you’ve done nothing but read blogs for nine hours and you only get to the Dooce after dinner. Dooce used to first-stop shopping.

Now I get up and shower and read blogs while getting ready. In case anything exciting happens overnight in Blogland. If that happens maybe I could pitch a story idea at the morning meeting, but so far I just take up space. In a room with too few chairs. (But I saw chairs being wheeled in today. Nobody’s sitting in the floor tomorrow maybe.)

After the morning meeting I take all the reporter’s hard earned story ideas and use them as possible blog posts for the day. Nothing like a little intellectual property theft among co-workers first thing in the day.

Then I open up Bloglines and open up my massive Nashville Blogs folder and go to town. Thank God for RSS readers and Firefox tabbed browsing. My job would be hell without them. I read the day’s paper and magazines but mostly I just read blogs. A lot of conservative, politcally-themed blogs. Those, no offense, can be the most tedious. And there are SO MANY.

Anyway, yeah. Then I come home from blogging and I turn on my PC to find my gmail box full of unanswered emails and a deserted Sparkwood & 21, littered with uninspired lists of movies sitting on a shelf.

Eventually I’ll start going to bed earlier and drag my ass back to the gym (it’s been almost a month!) so I’ll have more energy for blogging here at home.

I’ve been sitting here for three minutes trying to think of a clever way to wrap this post up. I’m too tired to try any longer.

I’m spent.

This is not a cop-out for posting actual writing. But still, after listing the DVDs that I own I couldn’t stop there.

That’s right. You guessed it. I’m going to type the title of every movie I own on VHS. Because I am a total, freakish nerd.

Favorites are maked with an asterisk and again, the boyfriend’s movies are tagged [bf].

• Rope
• Office Space
• Pollock
• Gods and Monsters
• L.A. Story
• Tori Amos: The Complete Videos 1991-1998
• Cinderella
• Heavy*
• Princess Mononoke
• [bf]Dead Man Walking
• [bf]Shag: The Movie
• [bf]American Beauty
• Citizen Ruth
• Tori Amos: Little Earthquakes
• Election
• Shallow Grave*
• [bf]me myself and i
• clerks.
• Swimming with Sharks
• [bf]Red Hot Chili Peppers: Funky Monks
• The Blair Witch Project
• [bf]Reality Bites
• Cyclo
• Jerry Maguire
• [bf]Red Dawn
• The Wizard of Oz*
• Girls Just Want to Have Fun

Continue reading →

I typed this list for my own benefit and thought it might make for a nice list. People seem to like lists.*

DVDs I Currently Own:
(DVDs owned by the boyfriend will be tagged [bf])

• The Office, Season One
• The Princess and the Warrior
• American Psycho
• 25th Hour
• The Royal Tenenbaums
• Waiting for Guffman
• Novocaine
• To Die For
• Clueless
• Aqua Teen Hunger Force, Vol. 1
• The Secret Agent
• Twin Peaks, Pilot
• Twin Peaks, Season One
• Ringu
• Sex and the City, Season One
• The Real Dirt on Farmer John
• Mullholland Dr.
• Mardi Gras: Made in China
• [bf]Journey, Greatest Hits: 1978-1997
• The Lion in Winter
• Annie
• The 39 Steps
• Office Space
• The City of Lost Children
• The Man Who Knew Too Much
• Jimmy Scott: If You Only Knew
• Freeway
• The Big Lebowski
• [bf]U2, The Joshua Tree
• [bf]Wet, Hot, American Summer
• Ghost World
• [bf]The Shining
• In the Bedroom
• Storytelling
• Willard
• Rebecca
• Say Anything
• Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me
• [bf]The Breakfast Club
• Rushmore
• The Red Violin
• Faces
• Drop Dead Gorgeous
• Blue Velvet
• Ben Fold Five, The Complete Sessions at West 5th
• Six Feet Under, Season One
• Secretary
• Amelie

*Okay, fine, this was totally lazy.

"I hope you have a good day," I told my father, "Bye."

He said goodbye to me with a broken voice, a man trying hard not to sob. He tries hard not to cry far too often.

Today my father will carry the casket of a man he’s been friends and co-workers with for thirty years. Then he will drive his dead friend’s fire chief’s car and sit in his seat during the funeral procession. They’d worked together as firefighters for over three decades. Both have been promoted up through the ranks together, both district chiefs, both men who fiercly love their jobs.

My dad’s friend was crushed to death by a dump truck. Both he and my dad have second (and third) jobs to pass the days they aren’t at the firehall. Firefighters work in 24 hour shifts, so their days off are many. Many moonlight for extra money. Both my dad and his friend worked for a company called Sign Pro that employs men to aid construction crews by directing traffic. Otherwise known as flagging.

Last week I sat in the newsroom working on the blog when I heard the assistant news director say something about a firefighter working a second job. I didn’t hear the rest. I looked over at the anchor to my right and said, "What did he say?" He called the news director over and asked him to tell us what was up.

"Some firefighter working a second job flagging for a construction company was run over by a dump truck." He said it flatly and matter-of-factly. My stomach lurched. I’m sure my face looked sick and white. I told them that could be my father. Despite myself I started to cry. Everyone within earshot went to work making things happen. One anchor grabbed me some tissue, while his wife, the other anchor began calling any PR people she knew at the hospital where the man was being taken. The news director asked me my dad’s name and ran off to find out more.

Only then did it occur to me to call my father. I dialed his number and waited through three rings holding my breath. When he answered I could barely speak. "You’reokayyou’realright," I breathlessly gushed.

"Hello? Who is this?." My dad was confused. I explained to him what I’d heard in the newsroom when he paused and told me, "That was Willy Barnes, honey."

Willy Barnes is the friend of my dad’s I was talking about. When I spoke to my father Willy was still alive, but crushed from the waist down. I asked if he’d be okay. He told me he wasn’t sure, but that he was pretty bad off. I could tell he knew his friend would die, I could hear it in his voice. There was almost as much pain in his voice as there was just now when I called him.

I called to tell him I loved him and that I was so sorry. What I didn’t say was that despite this tragedy, I am very happy that he’s still alive to grieve his friend’s death. Because that would be selfish.

But I am.

This is why I’ve been neglecting you, Internet. I was blogged to death.