28 Ass Slaps Later

Oh sure, I could have gone to sleep last night. Maybe I would have drifted off into a very detailed dream involving me, Jake Gyllenhaal and a secluded beach. But it was far more enjoyable to be kept awake by the shrieks of ecstasy coming from my upstairs neighbor. In addition to the moaning, ass slapping, and frequent falsetto arias (I think I might have even heard a barn animal or two), I was also privy to some of the most disturbing dirty talk ever uttered outside of hardcore porn videos.

Turning up the TV did little to drown out the hard-core f**cking going on above me. I turned on the stereo but immediately switched it off, not wanting to forever taint my enjoyment of the Once soundtrack. In the end, nothing worked and I was forced to lay there and listen to my neighbor take his girlfriend down the long road to Pleasure Town.

The lack of sleep has left me with huge dark circles under my eyes. Fortunately today is Halloween so my co-workers at the station just assumed it's part of some low rent costume. I guess that doesn't speak well for my professional wardrobe when it is so easily mistaken for a zombie costume.

Silence is Golden

Last night when I was channel surfing I noticed that the audio had cut out on MTV, which meant that the show, Shot at Love with Tila Tequila , had no sound.

Cable glitch or Act of God?

Let's NOT Do the Time Warp

Friday Night Midnight Screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show with Live Cast- The Samurai Electricians.........starring Me.

9:45pm
One of the Samurai Electricians enters the lobby just as I sit down to eat my naked chicken burrito. I stare longingly at my burrito then walk over to him.

ME: Are you with the cast

SAMURAI ELECTRICIAN: How did you know I was with the cast?

ME(internally): 1. You look like you've never touched a boob
2. I can see the bra strap peeking through your Pac Man t-shirt
3. You smell like Captain Morgan's and body glitter

ME: I recognized you from last year

11:25pm
The rest of the cast members begin to filter into the theater in full costume, including one dressed as a banana. Admittedly the few times I've been forced to endure the Rocky Horror Picture Show (including an unfortunate encounter at a high school drama club meeting) I haven't exactly been rapt with attention, but I don't remember a giant banana- least of all one with a lace garter wrapped around it's peel.

11:33pm
Another Samurai Electrician approaches the concession stand. It's impossible to not stare in wide-eyed wonder at her cartoonishly large breasts spilling over the top of her corset. Envy washes over me as I stare down at the empty void that is my own bra.

11:45pm
Audience members converge on the lobby. My third can of Sugar-Free Red Bull is rapidly wearing off. I have now, between my two jobs, been at work for a grand total of fifteen hours. It has become harder and harder to reign in the sarcasm. I convince myself that the customers come here for these snappy retorts, like one of those restaurants where they throw the rolls at you during dinner.

11:58pm
Dear God, why are there still so many people here? There seem to be two schools of costuming going on: 1) People who are dressed as actual characters from the film, and
2)Girls who have been given the occasion to dress in outfits that would make a prostitute blush. I feel like I'm in the middle of some bizarre David Lynch Showgirl Revue. There should never be an occasion for a middle-aged man to squeeze his doughy shape into ill-fitting lingerie and slap on some fire-engine red lipstick. Some of us would like to eat again in the near future.

12:24am
All's quiet on the lobby front. The masses have assembled in the auditorium as I survey the carnage left behind. It looks like a bomb went off in a drag queen's dressing room. There isn't a square inch of carpet that isn't covered in stray boa feathers or body glitter. I'm pretty sure there are Geneva Convention laws set up for this. The Red Bull has completely warn off and I briefly contemplate gathering up all of the feathers into one big pile and taking a cat nap.

1:34am
My manager, Dale, takes one look at my pitiful state and lets me go home early, but not before a two hundred pound man in garter belts and a large pearl necklace asks me where I bought my wig. I wasn't wearing a wig.

2:15am
I slide under my warm down comforter only to remember that I have to work at 9am.

Since I've been stuck at work for thirteen hours and still have three more to go, I am publishing my second blog post in less than an hour....

Things I'm Obsessed With this Week

1) Emerald Nuts- Glazed Walnuts

To lament the demise of my, already moderately-sized, breasts due to my recent weight loss, I decided to spend the majority of my Monday night sprawled out on my couch watching Prison Break and eating Butter Toffee Glazed Walnuts. It's hard to explain just how delicious they are. I can only say that I tore through that bag like a voracious crack whore.

2) David Tennant

I've never proven myself to be anything other than a giant nerd. So I feel no sense of shame in admitting that I made my friend, Paul, burn all of Doctor Who season 3 for me. Having watched several episodes multiple times, I have now begun looking up David Tennant videos on YouTube. What can I say, I like my men tall, skinny and prancing around in tight suits.

Sorry Paul, for outing you on your own nerd-ery.

3) Control- directed by Anton Corbijn

Four years ago I visited my friend Melissa in London and she took me to a club where we danced and laughed and danced some more, until my scarf was dripping with sweat and the humidity had frizzed my hair out to Don King-like proportions. And as I sat trading witty retorts with a brilliantly sarcastic british boy, I thought the night couldn't get any better. It was then that the opening bars to Joy Division's Love Will Tear Us Apart filled the club and my joy, much like my hair, could not be contained. And while I'm sure nothing resembling the joy in that moment will be represented in in this movie, it in no way diminishes my desire to see it.

If you want to destroy my sweater........

Since it seems to have gone from summer straight into winter around here, fall be damned, I have found my closet in dire need of some warmer clothing.
Finding a few sweaters should not have turned into the Homeric epic that it has. For the past four days I have trudged from one store to another in mall after mall with no positive end in sight. How hard is it to find a long sleeved sweater, I ask you. And what evil, Project Runway reject came up with the idea of the short-sleeved turtle neck sweater. Clearly my neck and torso need the lions share of the warmth. Cold arms, what a preposterous notion.

What is with the current clothing trends anyway. Seriously, enough already with the tunics and leggings. If I wanted to dress like Debbie Gibson circa the Electric Youth era, I would have done it the first time around.

I wish I knew how to quit you

The movie that opened at the theater this weekend drew a largely gay and lesbian audience. It has long been agreed amongst myself and my co-workers that gay men are the best audience to have. They dress and smell nice, they throw away their trash, and they make catty comments about obnoxious customers.

So we were all pretty excited for Friday night. Unfortunately we weren't prepared for the sheer volume of gays and lesbians. There was so much cologne flowing through that lobby that it smelled like a junior high dance.

I'd like to believe that it was my sparkling personality and expert popcorn popping skills that got me all that tip money, but some woman who looked not unlike a young Tom Brokaw told me that my tie was sexy and seductively stuffed two dollars into my tip cup. I could feel cheap about that, but I'm not above using my appeal to homosexuals to make a bit of money on the side.

Get your stinkin dreadlocks off me you damn dirty hippie

Leaving work the other day, I detected the faintest aroma of Patchouli. As I rounded the corner into the parking lot I ran straight into a sea of white guy dreadlocks and bad facial hair. Apparently Widespread Panic was playing a show at the Fox theatre and the parking lot had turned into a massive, tie-dyed tailgate party.

Once I recovered from the intial shock of so much bad fashion and body odor, I adjusted my sensible sweater and headed for my car. Navigating my way through the maze of pick up hackey sack games and empty Coors light cans proved slightly difficult in high heels, but I made it to the Corolla unscathed. Except for a few unfortunate pick up lines from two glassy-eyed hippies, the experience wasn't as traumatic as it could have been.

A little cheese with my whine

The weather has been unseasonably warm so it seemed like the perfect time for a booze heavy picnic......

It was only slightly cloudy when we started off for the Mt. Pleasant winery, but the breeze was warm and the sun was peeking out slightly from behind the clouds. By the time we parked the car and gathered up our picnic supplies, it had started to drizzle. It was not the ideal situation, but a little mist wasn't going to get in the way of our wine drinking.

We bought our wine and tried to find a table on the enclosed porch but it was already full so we snagged a table out on the open patio and started to unpack our food. In a brief moment of MacGuyver-like ingenuity, I fashioned a holder for my umbrella out of a water bottle and some roasted almonds. Sure there was a little bit of a drizzle, but our food was covered and we could still enjoy our bottle of pinot noir. So what if we got a little damp in the process.

A little damp, turned out to be the understatement of the century. The heavens opened up, and Mother Nature unleashed her full fury down onto our little cheese and cracker party. But we were stubborn, a little tipsy, and not willing to abandon our perfectly planned day. The other patrons dropped like flies around us, heading for the safety of their cars, but still we sat there huddled together under our tiny umbrella, sipping our wine and passing around our block of smoked gouda. The people inside watched us with a mixture of pity and amusement.

After twenty minutes we finally gave in, admitted defeat, packed up our Triscuits and finished up the picnic in my car. Several other water-logged patrons joined our winery tailgate party and we all decided to head for the biker bar down the street. We spent the remainder of the day at the biker bar playing quarters, drinking Miller High Life and gorging ourselves on chicken fingers and french fries. We did manage to smuggle in some of the remnants of our aborted picnic, some Ghirardelli chocolate squares. And while it wasn't exactly the day I had planned it turned out alright in the end; I mean Miller High Life is the Champagne of beers.

Things I'm Obsessed With This Week

1. On Tuesday took advantage of my job-related perks, free movie and lots of free Diet Coke. Saw the movie Eastern Promises, and really REALLY liked it. Viggo Mortensen should have nude fight scenes in all of his movies.



2. Spoon- The Underdog. The cause of many impromptu dance sessions in my apartment.



3. Life Savers Fruit Tarts.
What's not to love. The Grape Berry is just the right amount of grape and berry. The container is aesthetically pleasing. And they make cheap beer taste somewhat exotic.



4. How to Lose Friends and Alienate People by Toby Young.
It should be noted that I started reading this book the same day the theatre was infested with scores of local child actors and their faded glory stage moms desperately seeking the approval of such big ticket names as the "Blond kid from High School the Musical". On some small, slightly odd, level it enhanced the narrative of this book.

Spin Spin Sugar

This past Saturday I was roped into selling cotton candy, in front of the theatre, during the Loop in Motion festival. Apparently the Delmar Loop was just named one of the Ten Best Streets in America. It would seem that no one on the Loop that day had been informed of this prestigious honor, or the festival taking place; which would explain their largely indifferent demeanor.

I'll admit that the festivities were somewhat lackluster this year; but come on people, it's not everyday you can get cotton candy for a dollar. As I sat there watching obese children and their equally obese parents waddle by with their Ben & Jerry's waffle cones, I wondered why I had so eagerly given up my Saturday to sit in front of a machine that sounded like a jet engine and sent bursts of hot sugar into my eyes.

For the first few hours my only customers were the guys from the tattoo parlor across the street. It was somewhat heartwarming to see a grown man, with full sleeves, skip gleefully through the crosswalk waving his dollar at me. As I fired up the Whisper-tron 5000 and watched their eyes light up like Christmas trees, for a brief moment everything was right with the world.

Eventually business picked up and I spread my sugary goodness to the masses. You're welcome Delmar Loop.

Needing Awesome Lessons

This week was off to a dubious start when I slept through my alarm clock on Monday. I didn't let that dampen my spirits, though. Monday was the first day I got to wear my brand new heels. I should have done more walking around the Macy's showroom in them; then I would have known that they were just a hair to loose which would have saved me the embarrassment of literally walking out of them in front of my co-workers. Maybe the rest of my day wouldn't have been one long Fatty Arbuckle-ian sight gag.

Tuesday brought only more frustration and defeat. The tenants that used to live above me, vanished into the night (no doubt for drug or fugitive related reasons). In their absence the landlord has been renovating their apartments. Unfortunately, for me, they were not the most sanitary people and a fair amount of bugs lived with them. This disruption in their habitat has sent legions of them into my apartment through the sinks and the cabinets. Every night when I come home and turn the lights on, they scurry away. I spend at least ten minutes stomping my way back to the bedroom like Gene Kelly on a bad acid trip. As a result I have given my landlord a months notice and begun the odious process of apartment hunting.

Wednesday I didn't have enough time to wash my hair or iron my shirt before work. I spent much of the day hiding out in my cubicle, looking like some lost member of the Strokes. While in my my cubicle, I was forced to listen to a wealthy, over-privileged, pretentious, incredibly annoying intern talk about his recent month-long trip to England. It's bad enough to listen to some spoiled brat brag about spending time in London, but it's made all the more insufferable when he "accidentally" keeps using British phrases like "queuing up" and referring to the bathroom as "the loo". If my eyes had rolled back any further, they might have popped out of the sockets.

Today I heard the song Big Girls Don't Cry at least three times, once on three channels simultaneously. It was like the three horsemen of the apocalypse.

But tomorrow is another day and things can only go up. Saturday I get to sell cotton candy in front of the theater for six hours; so things are shaping up nicely.