"An awesome group of people"

So there I was today, laying down on the couch for a late afternoon "nap" (actually I was sleeping off the early afternoon beers--Mr. Man has been away the last few days, and I've found myself treating my menstrual cramps with daytime drinking, which is a pretty fun way to treat them, as it were) when I thought I heard something. Not a drunken neighbor screaming--too early for that. Not a police helicopter flying overhead--too quiet. In fact, the sound was a faint swishing sort of rumble, an otherworldly "am really I hearing something or am I drifting off" sort of sound.

Upon my waking, I sat up and opened my laptop to the Times and behold, my question answered: twas the sound of tens of thousands of dead soldiers rolling over in their graves.

That a person so clearly out of touch with not only his fellow person, but also with reality could be not only making this speech but running this fucking show, still boggles my fucking mind. Worse than that, though, it chills my heart, too, to recognize just how corrupt a system we've built, that could find a person so ineffective, mediocre, and asinine allowed to speak to any group of people, let alone represent a country.

I guess we should just consider ourselves lucky (knock on wood--238 more days to go!) that he hasn't managed to kill us all yet.

Anyhoo. Enough with this bit half-drunk, sleepy, depressing blather (a couple of friends came over after my nap, and I had another couple of beers this evening--good thing Mr. Man gets back tomorrow). Next time I blog (could be awhile--I'll be out of town on work for a few days this week), I promise it will be about something more interesting--possibly, my new Diva cup and the use of menstrual blood as fertilizer.

NYC lambs, I'll be up on Wednesday night so give a girl a call if you are free. Alternatively (I've got movie plans Wed eve, but all are welcome, and was thinking drinks and dinner after in Manhattan, but realize that it's short notice and all so) I'll be coming back through town on Saturday afternoon.

Oh yeah I have a personal blog, too

Long time no see, sexy readers. I am not sure whether I could get any lamer, but I've been covered up by paid blogging and other work, and often have a hard time getting down to it, so truth be told, I've been spending too much time on the couch with my laptop, surfing stupid news and playing stupid games. Then I feel guilty so I end up "working" 10 hrs but billing for 6 because I was so unproductive.

Blargh. I'm working on some "new rules" to remedy this situation, lest I become one of these dead bloggers. These new rules will likely include walking the dog first thing in the morning instead of going straight to work in my jammies (I do walk her, and get dressed, within a few hrs--I swear), trying to wake before 10am (and bed down earlier too), smoking less ganja, playing fewer games (this may involve removing Scramble from my Facebook apps, but I'm gotta finish the game my little brother started with me first) and putting the fucking computer down by a certain time each evening. Hopefully, this will make my worktime more productive and therefore shorter, and free up more time for...whatever.

Anyway. Now that you know how lame I really am, here are some updates since the last time I blogged:

• The Kitty Show was a ton of fun. I am now even more in love with Erin Markey (seriously. I don't toss the word genius around, but she really is) than I was after the Sex Workers Art Show. Also love love loved Nicole Reynolds and have been alternating her two albums with the Bonsoir Catin album I bought after I got back from New Orleans (yay lesbian music).
  
  
• Mr. Man and I bought camping gear that includes 2 cammo sleeping bags (traditional green for him, pink for me, though we expect to be zipping them together) and will be hitting Camp Henlopen in Delaware the day after the Mermaid Parade.

• Our recycling bin got stolen. The one we paid $6 for. This actually happened while I was in New Orleans, and I guess that Miss D (who has since moved back to Seattle) walked up and down the alley looking for it, to no avail. We should have put our fucking address on it.
  
  
• Roach season is in full swing. I also noticed some tiny black ants on the counter the other day, but the roaches are fucking cuh-razy. They swarm poor Bitsy's food atop the fridge, and when I go into the kitchen at night they are often all over the fucking stove. Ugh. I've never had kitchen roaches before, at least not to this extent, and not to be a baby or anything (they're not as scary as the eye-lash legged millipedes I had in my basement apt in DC) but they're grossing me out big time.
  
  
• The Bearded Lady is back in P-town. She's probably shoving a hollow needle through a nipple right now. We are not sure when we'll be up to see her, but are definitely hoping to get up there between now and Labor Day, when she closes up shop, to crash on her floor and make her spend her precious few non-working summertime moments with us, at least for a few days. Last year, Mr. Man and I went swimming there and saw a fucking seal, not 20 yards away, playing with a fish. The next day, I got pierced (in the nether regions) about 15 min before our ferry was supposed to leave and then we had to run down to the pier. We made it, though we'd rather have stayed. Ah...summer.
  

That's about it, I guess. June is right around the corner, and Mr. Man and I both have birthdays within the first 2 weeks of it. And we have, as yet, no plans! Pretty unusual for us...I, for one, am a little overwhelmed at the prospect of being in a town where I still have so few friends on my birthday (even though I feel like I should have outgrown the need to celebrate, especially on my birthday proper, by now). If you feel like kicking it, give a girl a call.

Back from the Big Easy (which should be called "the Big-easy-to-get-heartburn")

That's right, y'all...my recent lack of posts springs from the fact that I was in N'awlins for the last 8 days. I just got home last night, have now been in town for about 24 hrs, and have now caught myself humming I Wish I Was in New Orleans about 2,000 times.

Holy smokes. As luck would have it (good or bad, depending on your viewpoint) I launched a new blog for one of my clients the very same day I flew out, so I had to work kind of a lot, so I couldn't just go off the deep end and get trashed the whole time. I did go balls out (making me kind of a hypocrite after making fun of all the other drunk people the whole week) the last night I was there, though, and paid for it all day yesterday, from my drunken call to Mr. Man upon waking, to barfing in the airplane bathroom, to a painful lugging of my huge suitcase up our narrow stairs. In fact, I was on my second flight when I remembered eating a half of a mushroom chocolate at about 2am (my flight was at 11.30). Jesus. Note to self: you're 30.

You may know that I'm something of a has-been vegetarian who even now rarely eats meat. All that went out the window and a few days into the trip, I found myself counting on my fingers how many species I'd eaten in a 24 hr period, and there were at least ten. Crawfish, alligator, duck, quail, chicken, steak, fish, oysters, shrimp, and rabbit. And it's not like eating little pieces of sushi or lean jerky or something; this was shit like "alligator and sausage cheesecake." I'm pretty sure I blew all the food karma I've built up over the years.

I also saw a ton of amazing music, being there with cousin C and her husband, M, who both know a lot more than I do about jazz, and kept me running to shows pretty much every minute that I wasn't emailing, blogging, searching for wifi, eating some ridiculously indulgent shit, or (gratefully) sleeping. We missed most of the biggest acts of last weekend, including Allison Kraus and Robert Plant, and Billy Joel, and Sheryl Crow. Even better, though, I discovered a bunch of artists I'd never even heard of, like Bonsoui Catin, the female Cajun band who fucking rock, and Papa Mali and Henry Butler and Anders Osbourne (who chainsmokes and leans back when he's jamming on the guitar). We also saw the legendary Dr. John and the Wetland All-stars, at least until the huge grey cloud hanging over us opened up and starting pounding us with quarter-sized raindrops. We even saw John C. Riley standing outside the Chicky Wa Wa on Saturday night, looking fucking adorable in an all-black suit with black (bowler-style, I think?) hat. I kicked myself all the way to Tipitina for not telling him what a fucking amazing actor I think he is. Dammit.

Of course, all of this indulgent behavior was hindered by a constant nagging guilt about the shit that has gone down in New Orleans since Katrina (and before). A few of my dearest friends used to live there, and I saw how it broke their hearts--I guess it broke everybody's hearts, and filled us with rage and shame--when it happened. The day that I flew down there, that douchebag Bush was there, too, for some bullshit tree planting ceremony or something. That he has the audacity to show his face in that town boggles the motherfucking mind. I didn't make it to the 9th Ward, covered up with work as I was, but there was evidence of the destruction everywhere we went (except maybe the Garden District) including the fairgrounds where Jazz Fest is held, in the form of now unlive-able houses and in some places water lines. What I didn't see and couldn't judge is how the neighborhoods have changed--who is no longer there--but one of the cab drivers told us that the Marigny district, where we were staying, used to be a "bad neighborhood," one that was "predominantly black," before the storm and subsequent "rebuilding."

Sigh.

I was able, however, to patch up my bleeding heart (no place has ever made me feel like that place did before) manage to meet a great many people who have taken matters into their own hands, given up waiting for the help they deserve, and began to rebuild in earnest, in scrappy teams. People with awesome visions for a fairer, more sustainable, Big Easy. People who are growing copious amounts of vegetables in the middle of the city.

Plus I got to elbow some old man who thought he could feel up me and C while moving past us on the way to the bathroom.

I also saw alligators and turtles in the Bayou.



And beads hanging from trees and power lines.



And really cute old people dancing with umbrellas.



Let's all move down there and start a revolution.