Can you hit the button for "descent into hell?"
I had to remove it for, um, security reasons. ;-)
Yah yah yah, I'll tell you about it one of these days.
Voodoo
Voodoo Lounge v.12.1: I'm the Juggernaut, bitch!
Thursday, January 31, 2002
Tuesday, January 29, 2002
Got some spare change?
If so, buy some brl pimp gear! Money raised will go towards the Soju Drinking Team.
Voodoo
If so, buy some brl pimp gear! Money raised will go towards the Soju Drinking Team.
Voodoo
One Year Down
It's official. One year ago today, I was crowned single. I'm trying to not think about it, but alas, I feel like I've been watching the days pass so slowly. Dates notwithstanding, I've been busy with other things: time spent working, finishing my dissertation, working on personal projects, and other psedo important things, but somehow, the single nature of being seems to creep up on me, and that bugs.
I like to think that I've moved on, gone onto thinking about other things, but no. And this alone forces me to question whether or not I've done enough to grow up and over this situation. The Great Beyond looms in the distance, but like all explorers, once you've touched down onto land, you start to question why you even left in the first place. Oh yah, I didn't leave. I got left.
Do I sound too bitter? Maybe it's because I can't seem to shake it. Maybe it's because I think I need to exact some kind of cruel revenge. Maybe it's because I'd like to think I need another guy to get my mind off this one. Maybe it's because I keep making up excuses to hold onto it because you never know. Now that sounds more like me. Although the cruel revenge tactic has paid off in the past, it's not something that I think is worthy of actually doing. Well maybe.
So now that I've celebrated this ominous of most anniversaries, I can say that being single isn't all that bad, being alone isn't all that bad, because if I were to focus on the whole single thing and alone thing, I would never realize that I have a great group of friends that I can totally focus on instead of spending all my time with another significant other and put them on the back burner (or as in the case of SOME people, throw the baby out with the bathwater). I would never be able to do all the things I want to do with my family. Not that having a significant other would keep me from doing that, it would definitely force me to spend some time away from that, as expected.
Dating? Sure, why not, but I tell you this, in my field of education, most men are either already long shackled up or gay. God bless the fellas, but I don't think I'll hit up any guys here. They already have boyfriends, as I like to say.
At any rate, whatever happens, happens. I'm not going to press forth because I have other things on my mind right now that have priority, and sobbing into a hankie isn't one of them. I like to say, I'm too busy taking care of me and mine to worry about Mr. Right. I might be selfish in that regards, but the last thing you want to do is become involved with someone who has no idea of how to take care of themselves when the shit goes down. You don't want someone who doesn't know themselves, is unfulfilled or even worse, still hanging on.
And I've let go. I might be plummeting to the earth, but hey, the view from here is fabulous.
Battling Selves
I hung out with the Palma Sutra on Sunday, and we had a discussion about how most women (and men) have two sides to them. There's the high side, the one that supports you and is a space where you are basically a good person, and there's the low side, the bitchy catty, totally politically incorrect person. Say someone cuts you off on the freeway. The high side says, "Oh, that's cool, whatever, you drive whatever way you want, just be safe."
The low side says, "F^cking b&tch! I hope you crash and die a horribly fiery death!"
See where I'm comin' from?
Palma Sutra suggested that we name the low side so as to facilitate moving out of that zone (unless you like to be there, and for heaven's sake, that's a lot of work) and maintaining the higher zone. I have chosen thusly, Cruella de Ville, as in the nasty wench of 101 Dalmations fame. So when things get nasty, I'll just say to myself, "My, my, Cruella, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the cell block?" or something to that effect.
I think it's kind of funny, the id-ish feelings we all harbor. The feeling that at any moment, you can just look a stranger in the eye and just HIT him/her/shim in the nose. Ever feel that way? How about going to a club and instead of saying the nice excuse me, you PUSH people out of the way. How fun! Cruella, it's not fun. That's not nice.
Okay, she says back, but you can't admit that it doesn't feel good just to think it. You won't do it, but damn, it feels good.
I stop and think about pushing through the girls and boys at the club.
Oh yah, it does. I think me and Cruella will get along just fine.
Voodoo
It's official. One year ago today, I was crowned single. I'm trying to not think about it, but alas, I feel like I've been watching the days pass so slowly. Dates notwithstanding, I've been busy with other things: time spent working, finishing my dissertation, working on personal projects, and other psedo important things, but somehow, the single nature of being seems to creep up on me, and that bugs.
I like to think that I've moved on, gone onto thinking about other things, but no. And this alone forces me to question whether or not I've done enough to grow up and over this situation. The Great Beyond looms in the distance, but like all explorers, once you've touched down onto land, you start to question why you even left in the first place. Oh yah, I didn't leave. I got left.
Do I sound too bitter? Maybe it's because I can't seem to shake it. Maybe it's because I think I need to exact some kind of cruel revenge. Maybe it's because I'd like to think I need another guy to get my mind off this one. Maybe it's because I keep making up excuses to hold onto it because you never know. Now that sounds more like me. Although the cruel revenge tactic has paid off in the past, it's not something that I think is worthy of actually doing. Well maybe.
So now that I've celebrated this ominous of most anniversaries, I can say that being single isn't all that bad, being alone isn't all that bad, because if I were to focus on the whole single thing and alone thing, I would never realize that I have a great group of friends that I can totally focus on instead of spending all my time with another significant other and put them on the back burner (or as in the case of SOME people, throw the baby out with the bathwater). I would never be able to do all the things I want to do with my family. Not that having a significant other would keep me from doing that, it would definitely force me to spend some time away from that, as expected.
Dating? Sure, why not, but I tell you this, in my field of education, most men are either already long shackled up or gay. God bless the fellas, but I don't think I'll hit up any guys here. They already have boyfriends, as I like to say.
At any rate, whatever happens, happens. I'm not going to press forth because I have other things on my mind right now that have priority, and sobbing into a hankie isn't one of them. I like to say, I'm too busy taking care of me and mine to worry about Mr. Right. I might be selfish in that regards, but the last thing you want to do is become involved with someone who has no idea of how to take care of themselves when the shit goes down. You don't want someone who doesn't know themselves, is unfulfilled or even worse, still hanging on.
And I've let go. I might be plummeting to the earth, but hey, the view from here is fabulous.
Battling Selves
I hung out with the Palma Sutra on Sunday, and we had a discussion about how most women (and men) have two sides to them. There's the high side, the one that supports you and is a space where you are basically a good person, and there's the low side, the bitchy catty, totally politically incorrect person. Say someone cuts you off on the freeway. The high side says, "Oh, that's cool, whatever, you drive whatever way you want, just be safe."
The low side says, "F^cking b&tch! I hope you crash and die a horribly fiery death!"
See where I'm comin' from?
Palma Sutra suggested that we name the low side so as to facilitate moving out of that zone (unless you like to be there, and for heaven's sake, that's a lot of work) and maintaining the higher zone. I have chosen thusly, Cruella de Ville, as in the nasty wench of 101 Dalmations fame. So when things get nasty, I'll just say to myself, "My, my, Cruella, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the cell block?" or something to that effect.
I think it's kind of funny, the id-ish feelings we all harbor. The feeling that at any moment, you can just look a stranger in the eye and just HIT him/her/shim in the nose. Ever feel that way? How about going to a club and instead of saying the nice excuse me, you PUSH people out of the way. How fun! Cruella, it's not fun. That's not nice.
Okay, she says back, but you can't admit that it doesn't feel good just to think it. You won't do it, but damn, it feels good.
I stop and think about pushing through the girls and boys at the club.
Oh yah, it does. I think me and Cruella will get along just fine.
Voodoo
Monday, January 28, 2002
Are you in or out?
Voodoo's throwing another party. The only question is, who will show up?
And, you are invited.
--Voodoo
Voodoo's throwing another party. The only question is, who will show up?
And, you are invited.
--Voodoo
Sunday, January 27, 2002
Word Freak
Word Freak is a title of a book by Stefan Fatsis. Wait, the actual title is Word Freak: Heartbreak, Triumph, Genius, and Obsession in the World of Competitive Scrabble Players. I haven't read it. Yet.
I have been introduced into the word lover's game: Scrabble. You have Pork Honey to blame for this, my pretties. It's terribly addictive,and if you wonder why I'm on so late at night, it's probably because I'm working at improving my game with Pork Honey. Or I might be cruisingporn. educational sites. Yah, that's it. I spend time thinking about words. Looking for new ones, reading dictionaries for the hell of it, learning strategy by playing Buff Bagwell (games that take days because we can never sit still long enough), and getting my ass kicked by Pork Honey. Wanna see what's goin' on? http://www.games.com click on scrabble>United States (unless, well, you know)>register or log in as a guest. Now get a table together and BAM you're either runnin' thangs or gettin' your ass whooped. I am quite familiar with the latter.
I look at words on billboards and wonder how many points they're worth. I find esoteric words sexy. Remember that scene in Threesome? She goes into the library with homeboy, reads away and it's on like donkey kong. Now that's sexy.
So anyway, I just finished a game that took three days, and I luckily won by five points. I hardly win these days, so you know it's not easy for me to win. I revel in glee after I win. Life is funny like that. Until the next game starts, I stare at words, lovely things, precious points and meanings that I claim only for me.
Work Freak Put to Work
It's only been now that I can settle in and listen to the track that the Wolf laid down for me. You know the one with me dropping some silly word play, my version of spoken word. It boggles my mind to listen to the way my mind works the things that I say, the music that lays there in my voice. I never like listening to myself.
Maybe that's another way of saying...
Well, anyways, lemme leave you with this thought:words bring things to life, the deep to the surface, and in this you know me best, but it's not til you listen that you see the me I really am.
Peasandcarrots,
Voodoo
Word Freak is a title of a book by Stefan Fatsis. Wait, the actual title is Word Freak: Heartbreak, Triumph, Genius, and Obsession in the World of Competitive Scrabble Players. I haven't read it. Yet.
I have been introduced into the word lover's game: Scrabble. You have Pork Honey to blame for this, my pretties. It's terribly addictive,and if you wonder why I'm on so late at night, it's probably because I'm working at improving my game with Pork Honey. Or I might be cruising
I look at words on billboards and wonder how many points they're worth. I find esoteric words sexy. Remember that scene in Threesome? She goes into the library with homeboy, reads away and it's on like donkey kong. Now that's sexy.
So anyway, I just finished a game that took three days, and I luckily won by five points. I hardly win these days, so you know it's not easy for me to win. I revel in glee after I win. Life is funny like that. Until the next game starts, I stare at words, lovely things, precious points and meanings that I claim only for me.
Work Freak Put to Work
It's only been now that I can settle in and listen to the track that the Wolf laid down for me. You know the one with me dropping some silly word play, my version of spoken word. It boggles my mind to listen to the way my mind works the things that I say, the music that lays there in my voice. I never like listening to myself.
Maybe that's another way of saying...
Well, anyways, lemme leave you with this thought:words bring things to life, the deep to the surface, and in this you know me best, but it's not til you listen that you see the me I really am.
Peasandcarrots,
Voodoo
Saturday, January 26, 2002
Purposely Doing Nothing
Today is the day that I have waited for for oh. so. long. It is the day that I have been dreaming about, lusting over, sneaking off to think about, getting giddy in that 12 year old girl kind of way.
Today, my loves, is the day that I didn't do DIDDLY.
Yes, I did my laundry, I cleaned up my messy room (31 and still messy, honies), and read a book. But I did what I wanted to do, and that was chill. It never ceases to amaze me how busy my life is. Doing all the little things. Work, social life, working on brl page, and trying to make sure I eat on time. I work out. I run around. I drive people places. I think.
But today, I reveled in nothingness. I merely 'was.'
I don't think I'll be able to do this much more often, but once every now and then is good.
Want to be Voodoofied? Get Famous? Feel the LOVE?
I am looking for a new writer to join the staff at beatsrhymesnlife. You must have some talent, whether that be juggling apples with your feet or have a tail from which you swing from vine to vine. No web experience is necessary (I do the coding, if that's what you want to call what I do), but you must be able to write somewhat regularly and with less spelling errors than I can shake a stick at. Prefer if I kind of know you, and I am specifically looking for a woman to join the brl posse. Email me and send a writing sample to voodoochild@beatsrhymesnlife.com if you're down.
If you're a guy and totally pissed that I don't want a guy to write for me, a) stick it, and the b) email me a writing sample and we'll see where I can fit you in.
For any interested parties I need one paragraph on the following topic: "You might be sexy, but I'm ...."
Thanks!
the anti valentine's day party
Comin' at you for 2002, brought to you by yours truly, the Weekender and the Big Aiyah is the anti-valentine's party. Peep the scene for more information. It's for singles only, so you coupled freaks can just stay home.
That's the 411 for now.. Much love and talk to you soon,
Voodooo
Today is the day that I have waited for for oh. so. long. It is the day that I have been dreaming about, lusting over, sneaking off to think about, getting giddy in that 12 year old girl kind of way.
Today, my loves, is the day that I didn't do DIDDLY.
Yes, I did my laundry, I cleaned up my messy room (31 and still messy, honies), and read a book. But I did what I wanted to do, and that was chill. It never ceases to amaze me how busy my life is. Doing all the little things. Work, social life, working on brl page, and trying to make sure I eat on time. I work out. I run around. I drive people places. I think.
But today, I reveled in nothingness. I merely 'was.'
I don't think I'll be able to do this much more often, but once every now and then is good.
Want to be Voodoofied? Get Famous? Feel the LOVE?
I am looking for a new writer to join the staff at beatsrhymesnlife. You must have some talent, whether that be juggling apples with your feet or have a tail from which you swing from vine to vine. No web experience is necessary (I do the coding, if that's what you want to call what I do), but you must be able to write somewhat regularly and with less spelling errors than I can shake a stick at. Prefer if I kind of know you, and I am specifically looking for a woman to join the brl posse. Email me and send a writing sample to voodoochild@beatsrhymesnlife.com if you're down.
If you're a guy and totally pissed that I don't want a guy to write for me, a) stick it, and the b) email me a writing sample and we'll see where I can fit you in.
For any interested parties I need one paragraph on the following topic: "You might be sexy, but I'm ...."
Thanks!
the anti valentine's day party
Comin' at you for 2002, brought to you by yours truly, the Weekender and the Big Aiyah is the anti-valentine's party. Peep the scene for more information. It's for singles only, so you coupled freaks can just stay home.
That's the 411 for now.. Much love and talk to you soon,
Voodooo
Thursday, January 24, 2002
Salting Your Own Game
My Lovely Voodoo Men, heed the warning of the Voodoo. Self salting game is so prevalent these days that it's scary. You don't go into your sexual history and proclivities. Women don't need to know that! I'm half grateful that I did hear it, so that I know better, but damn! Beats the hell outta me. It's terrible. Quoth the Pork Honey, "You get tired of the hunt..." Well, I am tired of the hunt, but I know I need to go out there are do something about this fine dry spell. Oh well, to paraphrase yet another poet, Guru or Gangstarr, "Get rid of the ex man and move on to the next man."
Voodoo
My Lovely Voodoo Men, heed the warning of the Voodoo. Self salting game is so prevalent these days that it's scary. You don't go into your sexual history and proclivities. Women don't need to know that! I'm half grateful that I did hear it, so that I know better, but damn! Beats the hell outta me. It's terrible. Quoth the Pork Honey, "You get tired of the hunt..." Well, I am tired of the hunt, but I know I need to go out there are do something about this fine dry spell. Oh well, to paraphrase yet another poet, Guru or Gangstarr, "Get rid of the ex man and move on to the next man."
Voodoo
Tuesday, January 22, 2002
Monday, January 21, 2002
Queer as Hell
It's 1AM, and I just finished blogging. As life would have it, it's time for me to blog again. It's one of those things that just happens. Sometimes you're done and you realize you're not. I'm watching Queer as Folk. It never ceases to amaze and disgust me how people FREAK out when it comes to gay this and gay that. I'm spoiled because I grew up in a City that's comfortable, albeit, not 100% comfortable with its Gay side. I'm blessed because I know of all the assets of being aware of your community: gay, straight, different ethnicities and cultures, genders, attitudes and beliefs, all contribute to the world, and to ignore one is to ignore a vital pulse in the life of a City.
I'm not suggesting that we all run out and purchase copies of the Advocate, go to Universe and celebrate Pride. Folks just ain't ready to go up and run out to get their silver mesh shorts. I'm suggesting, and this may just be oh so revolutionary, that we, the lovely people of San Francisco and its environs, appreciate the cultures and communities around us. I know you might not agree with the cultural norms, but I'm not suggesting you adopt them. I think it's healthy, perchance even expected that we allow others to exist free of OUR own limitations. Notice OUR. Yes, we might agree that it's risky we explore our own anger (which is disguised fear) to pursue greater love for others.
What have we got to lose?
Apparently enough because it's kept us at odds for years. Constant cultural rifts are the outcomes of years of fears and unfounded disgusts, difference in ideology and thought. Yet these are differences that allow us to fully be ourselves and live - live without fear and with the benefit of knowing other people that can only enrich our lives. I've participated in Pride, read the Advocate, a very proud card carrying member of the Universe VIP crowd, and yet I remain myself. I've seen things - gay, straight, ethnically different, and culturally unique, I don't choose to integrate into my life, but I am definitely more alive. I have new ideas, new perspectives and a new way of understanding
So what do you have to lose?
Voodoo
It's 1AM, and I just finished blogging. As life would have it, it's time for me to blog again. It's one of those things that just happens. Sometimes you're done and you realize you're not. I'm watching Queer as Folk. It never ceases to amaze and disgust me how people FREAK out when it comes to gay this and gay that. I'm spoiled because I grew up in a City that's comfortable, albeit, not 100% comfortable with its Gay side. I'm blessed because I know of all the assets of being aware of your community: gay, straight, different ethnicities and cultures, genders, attitudes and beliefs, all contribute to the world, and to ignore one is to ignore a vital pulse in the life of a City.
I'm not suggesting that we all run out and purchase copies of the Advocate, go to Universe and celebrate Pride. Folks just ain't ready to go up and run out to get their silver mesh shorts. I'm suggesting, and this may just be oh so revolutionary, that we, the lovely people of San Francisco and its environs, appreciate the cultures and communities around us. I know you might not agree with the cultural norms, but I'm not suggesting you adopt them. I think it's healthy, perchance even expected that we allow others to exist free of OUR own limitations. Notice OUR. Yes, we might agree that it's risky we explore our own anger (which is disguised fear) to pursue greater love for others.
What have we got to lose?
Apparently enough because it's kept us at odds for years. Constant cultural rifts are the outcomes of years of fears and unfounded disgusts, difference in ideology and thought. Yet these are differences that allow us to fully be ourselves and live - live without fear and with the benefit of knowing other people that can only enrich our lives. I've participated in Pride, read the Advocate, a very proud card carrying member of the Universe VIP crowd, and yet I remain myself. I've seen things - gay, straight, ethnically different, and culturally unique, I don't choose to integrate into my life, but I am definitely more alive. I have new ideas, new perspectives and a new way of understanding
So what do you have to lose?
Voodoo
Sunday, January 20, 2002
A Beautiful Mind and Three Guys With No Game
This weekend's summary of events: I went to Backflip with the Beer Can, the Evil One, World of Curlz and Game Master. Backflip is a club that has a little pool in the atrium (which is actually part of a hotel), two dance floors. One room is house, the other one hip hop. Lots of groups of people who just look like they have to be in groups at all costs: porno queens, guys with bad game, lots of leather jackets, freaks with bellies exposed, and bellies that shouldn't be exposed.
The music was cool, but it was too packed where you got to be really intimate with some dude next to you who was freaking up on you by default even though he was dancing with someone else. I would have liked more space because you can't really get your groove on unless you got room, no? I enjoy dancing and moving around, but not in a small confined space about the size of a veal crate. At any rate, World of Curls got off the hinges, so we danced around, got some dude's ass ground into our respective crotches, and also had to deal with hoochie mamas throwing mad attitude. We also encountered three guys who for whatever reason didn't do anything but dance with each other. You know how you can break up a group and dance with someone and then peep your friends later? Well, they just couldn't. They just kinda hung around each other and what's more attractive than a three way package deal?
It's a joke.
But let me tell you a more interesting story: the girls were outside smoking. I went with them to get some air. They were choppin' it up with some fellas and I was, well, breathing, and then I heard a very distinctive pop-pop-pop. Now, those of you who know, will tell you this: THAT'S A FUCKING GUN! But to the uninitiated, it's just backfire. Or just some popping noise. I notice a group of young men running towards us, away from the gunshots. I get Curlz attention and say, "Hey, let's get inside." She's faded and a little happy, and Game Master was busy doing her thing....Cops come roaring around the corner. I kind of get a little more urgent explaining the details, but alcohol ear plugs were in full effect, and we wind up going in in due time.
Saturday I went to a Baptism and a Wedding. And then I went to a Wedding Reception. Two different events, two different cities. I was tired. It was nice to kick it with family, ain't it. Nothing is cooler than seeing folks you grew up with and hanging out with them. You realize how muchpeople have changed, yet stayed the same. I could go into this, and I will, later, because if I'm going to talk about family, I'm going to wait for a complete entry, not a summary. It was nice to kick it with Stretch and Adobe Illustrator God as well as the Great Buff Bagwell. How we've all grown.
Sunday I hung out with Mighty Mom and Curlz, chasing firefighters and admiring the yoga pants. We enjoyed coffee watching fire engines go back and forth, back and forth, waving at the guys each time they passed. All six times.
A Beautiful Mind was on the agenda for later that evening. I called Smooth to join us at the theater and because the movie was sold out, we had to get him in the ghetto way. And I won't divulge our technique, but it worked. Lovely, lovely, lovely. I am a Russell Crowe fan, my pretties, but let's be honest, it's all about the newest
So where were we?
Oh yah, check out the movie, kids, and I'm going to take a small paraphrase from Mr. Crowe's acceptance speech, "But hopefully it helps us open our hearts, gives us a little more understanding, gives us a little more compassion." Yah, I'm preachin' to the stinking choir, but hey that's love.
I'm off to bed, Voodoo Babies, I'll give you more tomorrow.
Voodoo
This weekend's summary of events: I went to Backflip with the Beer Can, the Evil One, World of Curlz and Game Master. Backflip is a club that has a little pool in the atrium (which is actually part of a hotel), two dance floors. One room is house, the other one hip hop. Lots of groups of people who just look like they have to be in groups at all costs: porno queens, guys with bad game, lots of leather jackets, freaks with bellies exposed, and bellies that shouldn't be exposed.
The music was cool, but it was too packed where you got to be really intimate with some dude next to you who was freaking up on you by default even though he was dancing with someone else. I would have liked more space because you can't really get your groove on unless you got room, no? I enjoy dancing and moving around, but not in a small confined space about the size of a veal crate. At any rate, World of Curls got off the hinges, so we danced around, got some dude's ass ground into our respective crotches, and also had to deal with hoochie mamas throwing mad attitude. We also encountered three guys who for whatever reason didn't do anything but dance with each other. You know how you can break up a group and dance with someone and then peep your friends later? Well, they just couldn't. They just kinda hung around each other and what's more attractive than a three way package deal?
It's a joke.
But let me tell you a more interesting story: the girls were outside smoking. I went with them to get some air. They were choppin' it up with some fellas and I was, well, breathing, and then I heard a very distinctive pop-pop-pop. Now, those of you who know, will tell you this: THAT'S A FUCKING GUN! But to the uninitiated, it's just backfire. Or just some popping noise. I notice a group of young men running towards us, away from the gunshots. I get Curlz attention and say, "Hey, let's get inside." She's faded and a little happy, and Game Master was busy doing her thing....Cops come roaring around the corner. I kind of get a little more urgent explaining the details, but alcohol ear plugs were in full effect, and we wind up going in in due time.
Saturday I went to a Baptism and a Wedding. And then I went to a Wedding Reception. Two different events, two different cities. I was tired. It was nice to kick it with family, ain't it. Nothing is cooler than seeing folks you grew up with and hanging out with them. You realize how muchpeople have changed, yet stayed the same. I could go into this, and I will, later, because if I'm going to talk about family, I'm going to wait for a complete entry, not a summary. It was nice to kick it with Stretch and Adobe Illustrator God as well as the Great Buff Bagwell. How we've all grown.
Sunday I hung out with Mighty Mom and Curlz, chasing firefighters and admiring the yoga pants. We enjoyed coffee watching fire engines go back and forth, back and forth, waving at the guys each time they passed. All six times.
A Beautiful Mind was on the agenda for later that evening. I called Smooth to join us at the theater and because the movie was sold out, we had to get him in the ghetto way. And I won't divulge our technique, but it worked. Lovely, lovely, lovely. I am a Russell Crowe fan, my pretties, but let's be honest, it's all about the newest
Bald Head of the Month
Ed Harris.
So where were we?
Oh yah, check out the movie, kids, and I'm going to take a small paraphrase from Mr. Crowe's acceptance speech, "But hopefully it helps us open our hearts, gives us a little more understanding, gives us a little more compassion." Yah, I'm preachin' to the stinking choir, but hey that's love.
I'm off to bed, Voodoo Babies, I'll give you more tomorrow.
Voodoo
Thursday, January 17, 2002
Updates and other randomness
Today was one of those days where you really wanted to just stay in bed, but you really couldn't because you had so much to do at work, or so you thought, and then you wind up doing absolutely nothing, baby. Voodoo Children of the World, I bring you Useless Day #256396 at work. The only saving grace of today was that I got my hair done today, and I am now a fire engine red head.
Lovely.
I learned at the conference that if your customer is happy with your services, he/she will tell 4-5 people. If they aren't satisfied, they will tell 9-12 people. Let's translate that to relationships. If your significant other is happy, they will tell their friends how happy they are to be with you. About 4-5 people. If you suck, they will tell everyone. Funny thing is that if you really really suck, those 9-12 people that were told about your suckyness will probably tell another 3 people each (that's how the world is, baby),. and so on and so on. If you're Filipino, add 6 to each of those numbers. You're screwed.
The moral of the story? Keep 'em satisfied. For your own sake. Especially if you're dating a Pinay, god help you.
Lately, I've been hounded by people who are asking me why I'm not dating. The honest truth is I would if the opportunity came, but my dating life is something like this: the long wait for the bus to take me somewhere is far more interesting than the actual somewhere I hope to go. I'm enjoying my single life very much, but a pleasant distraction isn't entirely unwarranted, so someone step up already, make me laugh. I am okay, really, friends, but I will admit that some days are harder than others. Then I remember what it was like to be in a relationship where I clearly wasn't happy, and honestly, I can do that by myself. Don't need another person to bring me down. So here I am. Waiting for the bus.
And on this wait for the proverbial bus, I get hit on by the woman who got run over by the bus. Great.
Life is wonderful like that, and if I can't take anything from that experience, what the hell is living all about anyway?
Take that, and while you're at it, kiss me!
Voodoo
Today was one of those days where you really wanted to just stay in bed, but you really couldn't because you had so much to do at work, or so you thought, and then you wind up doing absolutely nothing, baby. Voodoo Children of the World, I bring you Useless Day #256396 at work. The only saving grace of today was that I got my hair done today, and I am now a fire engine red head.
Lovely.
I learned at the conference that if your customer is happy with your services, he/she will tell 4-5 people. If they aren't satisfied, they will tell 9-12 people. Let's translate that to relationships. If your significant other is happy, they will tell their friends how happy they are to be with you. About 4-5 people. If you suck, they will tell everyone. Funny thing is that if you really really suck, those 9-12 people that were told about your suckyness will probably tell another 3 people each (that's how the world is, baby),. and so on and so on. If you're Filipino, add 6 to each of those numbers. You're screwed.
The moral of the story? Keep 'em satisfied. For your own sake. Especially if you're dating a Pinay, god help you.
Lately, I've been hounded by people who are asking me why I'm not dating. The honest truth is I would if the opportunity came, but my dating life is something like this: the long wait for the bus to take me somewhere is far more interesting than the actual somewhere I hope to go. I'm enjoying my single life very much, but a pleasant distraction isn't entirely unwarranted, so someone step up already, make me laugh. I am okay, really, friends, but I will admit that some days are harder than others. Then I remember what it was like to be in a relationship where I clearly wasn't happy, and honestly, I can do that by myself. Don't need another person to bring me down. So here I am. Waiting for the bus.
And on this wait for the proverbial bus, I get hit on by the woman who got run over by the bus. Great.
Life is wonderful like that, and if I can't take anything from that experience, what the hell is living all about anyway?
Take that, and while you're at it, kiss me!
Voodoo
Wednesday, January 16, 2002
How to Make Voodoo Ultimately Pissed When She's at the Gym About to Leave
Damn, okay I think I have a stalker, kids. I don't know just what to do about it. The same chick who started talking to me yesterday was coming just as I was getting ready to leave. I was downing some water out of my Nalgene bottle and someone hits me on my butt.
Now, don't get me wrong, a lot of people want to tap that ass (ha), but only people who really know me can do that. I turned around thinking "which one of my friends is here" and it's her. As I pointed out to Curls, she's not just ugly. She's UGLY (with an exclamation point, baby).
I turn around, and she says, "Move that butt." I scoot out the way, and that's my sign to get my shit and bail. I grab my things, and head out the door. She says, "You're not leaving already?" I say, "You see me leaving, don't you?" And then I leave. Let's make one thing purely clear. It's not that someone's hitting on me, especially a woman hitting on me, because I'm all about you do your thang, chicken wang, but there's nothing worse than a mangy ugly person hitting on you. Eck.
Argh. Your assistance please:
See you later on. I need to take a hot shower to get this funk off me and to stop from feeling very very gross.
I'm glad she didn't walk in when I was nekkid!
Voodoo
Damn, okay I think I have a stalker, kids. I don't know just what to do about it. The same chick who started talking to me yesterday was coming just as I was getting ready to leave. I was downing some water out of my Nalgene bottle and someone hits me on my butt.
Now, don't get me wrong, a lot of people want to tap that ass (ha), but only people who really know me can do that. I turned around thinking "which one of my friends is here" and it's her. As I pointed out to Curls, she's not just ugly. She's UGLY (with an exclamation point, baby).
I turn around, and she says, "Move that butt." I scoot out the way, and that's my sign to get my shit and bail. I grab my things, and head out the door. She says, "You're not leaving already?" I say, "You see me leaving, don't you?" And then I leave. Let's make one thing purely clear. It's not that someone's hitting on me, especially a woman hitting on me, because I'm all about you do your thang, chicken wang, but there's nothing worse than a mangy ugly person hitting on you. Eck.
Argh. Your assistance please:
See you later on. I need to take a hot shower to get this funk off me and to stop from feeling very very gross.
I'm glad she didn't walk in when I was nekkid!
Voodoo
Tuesday, January 15, 2002
How to Make Voodoo Really Really Mad When She's at the 3rd Set of Doing Curls at a Gym
Talk to me.
I freakin' HATE that more than anything. I don't have a great need to talk to anyone when I'm trying to be focused and get my form right, etc. So don't talk to me. Don't tell me things that I already know, don't ask me if I've met my goals. I just want to get through this set, dammit.
Leave me the hell alone!
I left the gym not too long after that, and don't get me wrong, she wasn't trying to spit game or anything, but, it was just annoying. I'm trying to work out.
Okay, maybe it's the PMS.
Voodoo
Talk to me.
I freakin' HATE that more than anything. I don't have a great need to talk to anyone when I'm trying to be focused and get my form right, etc. So don't talk to me. Don't tell me things that I already know, don't ask me if I've met my goals. I just want to get through this set, dammit.
Leave me the hell alone!
I left the gym not too long after that, and don't get me wrong, she wasn't trying to spit game or anything, but, it was just annoying. I'm trying to work out.
Okay, maybe it's the PMS.
Voodoo
Monday, January 14, 2002
I Reckon
This morning, as I was getting thyself ready to face the day, I turned on the tele thinking, hey, I haven't seen the Today show in almost six months. I have this Matt Lauer fetish, you know. Well, don't ask. At any rate, half clothed, I struggle to find my remote, and voila, it's Matt Lauer and crew. I'm giddy. And did I mention, half dressed?
It turns out that today is the 50th anniversary of the Today show, and with all the hoopla comes a retrospective, of course. Because we love to think back and see where we've come from. Complete with the bad haircuts, the trends changing, we are amazed at how different our lives used to be. Ken Burns was featured on the Today Show today, and he did a retrospect of the show, as only Ken Burns can do it.
He started out by saying that no retrospect is complete without looking at the tragedies in our lives, and how they have shaped us. And indeed this is true, I thought. For I heard some saying a while ago, which has never failed to leave me, that when it's Time, God doesn't look at your medals, achievements, and certificates, He/She/The Infinite looks at your scars. I agree, because it is those things that truly shape our lives, and give us a sense of what is The Self. And then he did something strange. He undid, literally, the Sept. 11th. He ran tapes of the plane impacts backwards. He reconstructed the towers by reversing their fall.
By now somewhat clothed, I stood in front of the tele like a child seeing it for the first time. I was strangely silenced, and almost saddened, just as I had been when I first woke up on the 11th. It reminded me of the scene in the Fifth Element where Leelu watches a movie describing war. At the end, the middle of which I don't quite remember, they showed the opening of the Today Show, which usually starts with a helicopter view of New York City's lower Manhattan. And I heard Katie Couric say, "Good morning, it's a beautiful morning, September 11th..." And the helicopter showed a sweeping shot of the WTC with an indeed beautiful sunrise. Only a few hours later, the world would change, and so would we.
Someone said to me, "It's an exciting time to be alive." And with that, I'd have to agree. It is exciting, scary, wonderful, amazing, and definitely a time to be alive.
I reckon.
Voodoo
This morning, as I was getting thyself ready to face the day, I turned on the tele thinking, hey, I haven't seen the Today show in almost six months. I have this Matt Lauer fetish, you know. Well, don't ask. At any rate, half clothed, I struggle to find my remote, and voila, it's Matt Lauer and crew. I'm giddy. And did I mention, half dressed?
It turns out that today is the 50th anniversary of the Today show, and with all the hoopla comes a retrospective, of course. Because we love to think back and see where we've come from. Complete with the bad haircuts, the trends changing, we are amazed at how different our lives used to be. Ken Burns was featured on the Today Show today, and he did a retrospect of the show, as only Ken Burns can do it.
He started out by saying that no retrospect is complete without looking at the tragedies in our lives, and how they have shaped us. And indeed this is true, I thought. For I heard some saying a while ago, which has never failed to leave me, that when it's Time, God doesn't look at your medals, achievements, and certificates, He/She/The Infinite looks at your scars. I agree, because it is those things that truly shape our lives, and give us a sense of what is The Self. And then he did something strange. He undid, literally, the Sept. 11th. He ran tapes of the plane impacts backwards. He reconstructed the towers by reversing their fall.
By now somewhat clothed, I stood in front of the tele like a child seeing it for the first time. I was strangely silenced, and almost saddened, just as I had been when I first woke up on the 11th. It reminded me of the scene in the Fifth Element where Leelu watches a movie describing war. At the end, the middle of which I don't quite remember, they showed the opening of the Today Show, which usually starts with a helicopter view of New York City's lower Manhattan. And I heard Katie Couric say, "Good morning, it's a beautiful morning, September 11th..." And the helicopter showed a sweeping shot of the WTC with an indeed beautiful sunrise. Only a few hours later, the world would change, and so would we.
Someone said to me, "It's an exciting time to be alive." And with that, I'd have to agree. It is exciting, scary, wonderful, amazing, and definitely a time to be alive.
I reckon.
Voodoo
Saturday, January 12, 2002
Amelie, Customer Service, and Oil Stains
Sorry folks for not being around as much as I would have liked to. I was away for a few short days at a conference, away from my computer and all that. By the time I got home, I was so overstimulated that there wasn't much for me to write, so I'm going to try and play some catch up with you all today.
Let's start with the conference. It was a conference put on not too far away from me, so I didn't have to stay in a hotel, I just stayed at home. I was there for three days, and that got me out of the office, and that was very very nice. I was appreciative of the fact that I get to go to conferences very often, and I recently found out that I am going to the East Coast for a few days in the upcoming months. I love the opportunity to meet other professionals in the field, and find out what they're doing in terms of their best practices, etc. I really love to find out that what I'm doing, or rather what the university I work for, is doing is not only appropriate, but surpasses expectations.
I also love that for many of the meetings, I'm the youngest person there.
Anyways, that was a blast, there were, as usual, not an interesting single guy there. The only fellows I was interested in were the gay ones, and the ones that are married. Such is life. But we all learn to move on.
I saw Amelie last night with the Beer Can, and that was wonderful. A great movie. I know it's in French, but there are subtitles which don't necessarily match the french word for word, but it's good nonetheless. I think you'd like the movie, so get your ass out there and go see it. By the way, I am going to move to France, so I can live in cramped housing with weird people downstairs. Afterwards, the B.C. and I went to some local pub, got some beers, and him some scotch, and kicked it. I also made a deal with the devil, that I won't care to explain now. Just ask me about it in four years.
I got this gnarly new jacket for xmas. It's a down Columbia jacket, red. I wore it out to the movies with the Fredator. At the movie theater, I got some popcorn and went to the do-it-yourself-butter machine and promptly got butter on my jacket sleeves and on my chest. It not only looked like I lactated, it looked like I really had a good time because it was literally all over the place. I managed to get some of it off, but let it fester for a few days. I finally got the chance to sit down and work some Shout into it. Voila, jacket like new. Only problem is I had to dry it in my dryer and the feathers aren't exactly as fluffy as they used to be. Damn.
Hey, if you haven't seen the new Voodoo flash movie, check it out. Thanks to Pork Honey and Beer Can for their suggestions and feedback. And Beer Can for his wonderful, ahem, inspiration? Thanks!
Voodoo
Sorry folks for not being around as much as I would have liked to. I was away for a few short days at a conference, away from my computer and all that. By the time I got home, I was so overstimulated that there wasn't much for me to write, so I'm going to try and play some catch up with you all today.
Let's start with the conference. It was a conference put on not too far away from me, so I didn't have to stay in a hotel, I just stayed at home. I was there for three days, and that got me out of the office, and that was very very nice. I was appreciative of the fact that I get to go to conferences very often, and I recently found out that I am going to the East Coast for a few days in the upcoming months. I love the opportunity to meet other professionals in the field, and find out what they're doing in terms of their best practices, etc. I really love to find out that what I'm doing, or rather what the university I work for, is doing is not only appropriate, but surpasses expectations.
I also love that for many of the meetings, I'm the youngest person there.
Anyways, that was a blast, there were, as usual, not an interesting single guy there. The only fellows I was interested in were the gay ones, and the ones that are married. Such is life. But we all learn to move on.
I saw Amelie last night with the Beer Can, and that was wonderful. A great movie. I know it's in French, but there are subtitles which don't necessarily match the french word for word, but it's good nonetheless. I think you'd like the movie, so get your ass out there and go see it. By the way, I am going to move to France, so I can live in cramped housing with weird people downstairs. Afterwards, the B.C. and I went to some local pub, got some beers, and him some scotch, and kicked it. I also made a deal with the devil, that I won't care to explain now. Just ask me about it in four years.
I got this gnarly new jacket for xmas. It's a down Columbia jacket, red. I wore it out to the movies with the Fredator. At the movie theater, I got some popcorn and went to the do-it-yourself-butter machine and promptly got butter on my jacket sleeves and on my chest. It not only looked like I lactated, it looked like I really had a good time because it was literally all over the place. I managed to get some of it off, but let it fester for a few days. I finally got the chance to sit down and work some Shout into it. Voila, jacket like new. Only problem is I had to dry it in my dryer and the feathers aren't exactly as fluffy as they used to be. Damn.
Hey, if you haven't seen the new Voodoo flash movie, check it out. Thanks to Pork Honey and Beer Can for their suggestions and feedback. And Beer Can for his wonderful, ahem, inspiration? Thanks!
Voodoo
Wednesday, January 09, 2002
Geez
Sorry for the long delay in writing. Life has kicked back up to its regular speed, and blogger has been down...Now get onto it, my pretties.
Voodoo
Sorry for the long delay in writing. Life has kicked back up to its regular speed, and blogger has been down...Now get onto it, my pretties.
Voodoo
Sunday, January 06, 2002
What's Playin' and With Whom
I haven't done this in a while, but I wanted to share witcha what's playin' in the Voodoo Lounge tonight:
Jaheim: Ghetto Love
Sting: All this Time
Marc Anthony: Libre
The Cure: Greatest Hits
So check it out, my lovelies. I went to Macworld today, the mother of all Apple conferences. I went for work reasons, in search of a program that would assist us with operations. But I also went because the place is CRAWLING with men. Yes, men. What better thing for a kid than to drop said kid into a candy store? I put on my cutest, yet not too cute, this IS a computer convention for god's sake, outfit, and I went, Timbuk2 bag slung up and across, straightened out my lipstick and headed out of the office.
I grabbed a quick sandwich from my favorite boulangerie/patisserie, Bay Bread and Oh La La. Ham and Gruyere. Also a croissant. You can order here in French you know, life is good. I jumped into my double parked car, and headed uptown. I parked in a garage a few blocks from the Moscone Center, and traisped down the road. I sometimes forget how beautiful San Francisco is. I never get to go out and see the City in the daytime. I passed the construction at Union Square, the beautiful men sipping espresso outside Macy's Men, and my old flower stand.
I pass Metreon, Old Navy, and the Marriot, and soon my feet are killing me. I start to get worried because this is a walk around and see stuff conference, it's not a sit down and chill kinda thing. I dread the upcoming hours and glance at my watch to see how long I have to wait. Great. Four hours.
I find myself meandering around Macworld and not finding one single damn application that I'm looking for. I see a friend from work, Minus One, and we go around, talking mess, trying to get more free stuff, of which there isn't much, and trying to be somewhat amused at being there. An observation about Mac folks: either you love it or you hate it. They're creative, edgy types, not those scary freakish pimply kids, but they're hip and happening. More than once, I had to question if they used deodorants.
We watched a presentation on OS X (say TEN), and drooled over the innovations, and were slightly disturbed over the strange "You guys like that?" phrase that was offered every so often by the speaker. I had to restrain myself from shouting back, 'Oh yah baby, I love it when you play with my a$$!"
When all was said and done, I only scored one free tshirt, about 5 free CD's, lots of useless material, and sore toes. Doesn't make for a cute Voodoo, but hell, I got some eye candy, and at this rate, that's as good as it gets. Maybe I"ll go back tomorrow for more.
Ciao honies, who loves ya,
Voodoo
PS: VOTE FOR YOUR VOODOO, WILL YOU?
I haven't done this in a while, but I wanted to share witcha what's playin' in the Voodoo Lounge tonight:
Jaheim: Ghetto Love
Sting: All this Time
Marc Anthony: Libre
The Cure: Greatest Hits
So check it out, my lovelies. I went to Macworld today, the mother of all Apple conferences. I went for work reasons, in search of a program that would assist us with operations. But I also went because the place is CRAWLING with men. Yes, men. What better thing for a kid than to drop said kid into a candy store? I put on my cutest, yet not too cute, this IS a computer convention for god's sake, outfit, and I went, Timbuk2 bag slung up and across, straightened out my lipstick and headed out of the office.
I grabbed a quick sandwich from my favorite boulangerie/patisserie, Bay Bread and Oh La La. Ham and Gruyere. Also a croissant. You can order here in French you know, life is good. I jumped into my double parked car, and headed uptown. I parked in a garage a few blocks from the Moscone Center, and traisped down the road. I sometimes forget how beautiful San Francisco is. I never get to go out and see the City in the daytime. I passed the construction at Union Square, the beautiful men sipping espresso outside Macy's Men, and my old flower stand.
I pass Metreon, Old Navy, and the Marriot, and soon my feet are killing me. I start to get worried because this is a walk around and see stuff conference, it's not a sit down and chill kinda thing. I dread the upcoming hours and glance at my watch to see how long I have to wait. Great. Four hours.
I find myself meandering around Macworld and not finding one single damn application that I'm looking for. I see a friend from work, Minus One, and we go around, talking mess, trying to get more free stuff, of which there isn't much, and trying to be somewhat amused at being there. An observation about Mac folks: either you love it or you hate it. They're creative, edgy types, not those scary freakish pimply kids, but they're hip and happening. More than once, I had to question if they used deodorants.
We watched a presentation on OS X (say TEN), and drooled over the innovations, and were slightly disturbed over the strange "You guys like that?" phrase that was offered every so often by the speaker. I had to restrain myself from shouting back, 'Oh yah baby, I love it when you play with my a$$!"
When all was said and done, I only scored one free tshirt, about 5 free CD's, lots of useless material, and sore toes. Doesn't make for a cute Voodoo, but hell, I got some eye candy, and at this rate, that's as good as it gets. Maybe I"ll go back tomorrow for more.
Ciao honies, who loves ya,
Voodoo
PS: VOTE FOR YOUR VOODOO, WILL YOU?
Haiku Yo Mama
If you haven't been around, you don't know that there's a mad haiku competition going on next door at The Big Aiyah.
Go vote if you have the chance...
Enjoy!
Voodoo
If you haven't been around, you don't know that there's a mad haiku competition going on next door at The Big Aiyah.
Go vote if you have the chance...
Enjoy!
Voodoo
You Got Me Going in Circles
Once upon a time, when I was a young Voodoo, I was dating someone, shall we call him The Perfect One. Well, I didn't think he was all that perfect, so I broke up with him and started dating his friend, The Next Best Thing. Wait, did I mention that The Perfect One and The Next Best Thing were friends of my brother?
Let's take a big fat step back, toss open our 3/4 length jackets and place our hands on our hips.
"You did what? With who?"
Yah, I am going to admit, that I dated within the Circle. An absolute taboo that we shall not speak of in loud terms. Rather, we shall whisper amongst ourselves like thieves.
Let's define the term "Circle." First off, get out a piece of paper. Draw a circle in the middle, about the size of a quarter. Put your name in the middle of it. Next, draw another circle, and that circle will be for your immediate family. Draw another circle, and in it place your good friends, the handful of sorts that would loan you money no questions asked. Draw another circle, place those people that would never lend you money, but love to kick it with you. Keep going, and remember to add the names of folks. You might want to draw circles around other circles to group them together, say you met these guys through your girlfriends. You met these guys through your brother. Go ahead, I'll give you a few minutes.
Watch the circles unfold into a tangled web of potential boot knockers and shitstains (those you'd like to avoid), and watch the overlapping of circles look like a ripple that comes after the Rock of The Dating Game has been dropped.
I have dated folks outside the Circle for so long because I learned that what is my business I hope to keep my business, unless I choose to inform you of my situation. Dating folks in the Circle, like my brother's friends, led to drama with my bro. We weren't as close as we used to be when I was dating the guys. To make matters worse, I was dating another friend, which caused even more friction between The Perfect One and my brother, and between my brother and myself. Fuck, it's just not worth it, and even though boyfriends come and go, your siblings are always going to be there for you, so why jeopardize that relationship?
Dating outside the Circle means two things: 1) do so if you can handle the implications. Think long and hard about the relationships that are affected by you dating in the Circle. Because contrary to popular belief and to most ignorant people, the world does not revolve around you and your date. There are others who are affected by your actions. Tread carefully and wisely; and 2) If you've chosen to date within the Circle, for heaven's sake, don't go back into the Dating Pool with someone else from that same Circle. You will inevitably affect that circle's dynamic, and besides,don't you think you should start anew with people who don't know your drama?
Spitting game in the same Dating Pool is akin to trying to rob the same bank twice. First time, you're forgiven. Second time, you're just another bloody idiot.
My two cents.
Voodoo
Once upon a time, when I was a young Voodoo, I was dating someone, shall we call him The Perfect One. Well, I didn't think he was all that perfect, so I broke up with him and started dating his friend, The Next Best Thing. Wait, did I mention that The Perfect One and The Next Best Thing were friends of my brother?
Let's take a big fat step back, toss open our 3/4 length jackets and place our hands on our hips.
"You did what? With who?"
Yah, I am going to admit, that I dated within the Circle. An absolute taboo that we shall not speak of in loud terms. Rather, we shall whisper amongst ourselves like thieves.
Let's define the term "Circle." First off, get out a piece of paper. Draw a circle in the middle, about the size of a quarter. Put your name in the middle of it. Next, draw another circle, and that circle will be for your immediate family. Draw another circle, and in it place your good friends, the handful of sorts that would loan you money no questions asked. Draw another circle, place those people that would never lend you money, but love to kick it with you. Keep going, and remember to add the names of folks. You might want to draw circles around other circles to group them together, say you met these guys through your girlfriends. You met these guys through your brother. Go ahead, I'll give you a few minutes.
Watch the circles unfold into a tangled web of potential boot knockers and shitstains (those you'd like to avoid), and watch the overlapping of circles look like a ripple that comes after the Rock of The Dating Game has been dropped.
I have dated folks outside the Circle for so long because I learned that what is my business I hope to keep my business, unless I choose to inform you of my situation. Dating folks in the Circle, like my brother's friends, led to drama with my bro. We weren't as close as we used to be when I was dating the guys. To make matters worse, I was dating another friend, which caused even more friction between The Perfect One and my brother, and between my brother and myself. Fuck, it's just not worth it, and even though boyfriends come and go, your siblings are always going to be there for you, so why jeopardize that relationship?
Dating outside the Circle means two things: 1) do so if you can handle the implications. Think long and hard about the relationships that are affected by you dating in the Circle. Because contrary to popular belief and to most ignorant people, the world does not revolve around you and your date. There are others who are affected by your actions. Tread carefully and wisely; and 2) If you've chosen to date within the Circle, for heaven's sake, don't go back into the Dating Pool with someone else from that same Circle. You will inevitably affect that circle's dynamic, and besides,don't you think you should start anew with people who don't know your drama?
Spitting game in the same Dating Pool is akin to trying to rob the same bank twice. First time, you're forgiven. Second time, you're just another bloody idiot.
My two cents.
Voodoo
Thursday, January 03, 2002
This Foreign Object Called "Snow"
I spoke to My Hopeless Cause this morning in North Carolina, and he informed me that 8-12 inches of snow has kept him from returning to his domicile. I spoke to another homeboy, and expressed some happiness that the "snow this year was quite plentiful."
I thought about it, and realized that I've never lived in a climate that was Snow-Friendly. Last time it snowed in SF I think I was 5. And the snowfall wasn't even white. It was grey. Cruddy looking. Gross.
My friends from the East Coast love to discuss snow fort building techniques, the finer points of sledding, and sorry but I don't get it. It's comedy of sorts, and I laugh at the fact that I can wear shorts around the house if I so desire and flip flops to boot, all the while suffering a winter that has brought us to a staggering 62 degrees. They make fun of me, those East Coasties, and swear I'd never make it out there.
This, the girl who once ran into the snow in her shorts during a day trip up to Reno. I can see them shaking their cumulative head.
A whole separate wardrobe for snow days? What's a snow day? What's de-icing? Is that some little rule in hockey?
Iced over ponds. Snowmen. Horse drawn sleighs. Snow angels. Waterproof jeans. Parkas. Rain gear. Snow gear. Licking the flagpole.
It's not Christmas unless it's snowing. The change of seasons. Snowmobile races. Ice skating outside, and not on a rink.
I am aghast. Have I been missing out all these years? Is there another culture that I need to think about? Ice fishing? Huh? Wait, I think I'll ponder this while sitting in the warm sun, feet up on a park bench, surrounded by people running in shorts and tank tops, sipping an iced mocha and reapplying my suntan lotion.
I'll get back to you.
Voodoo
I spoke to My Hopeless Cause this morning in North Carolina, and he informed me that 8-12 inches of snow has kept him from returning to his domicile. I spoke to another homeboy, and expressed some happiness that the "snow this year was quite plentiful."
I thought about it, and realized that I've never lived in a climate that was Snow-Friendly. Last time it snowed in SF I think I was 5. And the snowfall wasn't even white. It was grey. Cruddy looking. Gross.
My friends from the East Coast love to discuss snow fort building techniques, the finer points of sledding, and sorry but I don't get it. It's comedy of sorts, and I laugh at the fact that I can wear shorts around the house if I so desire and flip flops to boot, all the while suffering a winter that has brought us to a staggering 62 degrees. They make fun of me, those East Coasties, and swear I'd never make it out there.
This, the girl who once ran into the snow in her shorts during a day trip up to Reno. I can see them shaking their cumulative head.
A whole separate wardrobe for snow days? What's a snow day? What's de-icing? Is that some little rule in hockey?
Iced over ponds. Snowmen. Horse drawn sleighs. Snow angels. Waterproof jeans. Parkas. Rain gear. Snow gear. Licking the flagpole.
It's not Christmas unless it's snowing. The change of seasons. Snowmobile races. Ice skating outside, and not on a rink.
I am aghast. Have I been missing out all these years? Is there another culture that I need to think about? Ice fishing? Huh? Wait, I think I'll ponder this while sitting in the warm sun, feet up on a park bench, surrounded by people running in shorts and tank tops, sipping an iced mocha and reapplying my suntan lotion.
I'll get back to you.
Voodoo
Wednesday, January 02, 2002
This is a reposting from last year, and amazingly enough it still holds up.
The first Voodoo Baby, official or not, who sends me their list of goals (nothing gross, please, I get enough of that from Beer Can), and leaves me an address will get a WOWEE free postcard from beautiful San Francisco courtesy of the Voodoo Child. So get it together, you know you want free stuff.
..It's 2001, Whatchoo Dun Did witcho Life?
Every year around this time, I sit down and write out all of the goals I wish to accomplish. I actually get a pen and paper (how rare in this computerized society) and list about 30-40 things I want to do. I review last year's list, and I cross of some of the stuff I did, and review some of the things I didn't accomplish. Then I ponder, Ketel 1 Cosmo in hand, why they didn't materialize.
The List is a list of real goals. There are no items such as "Nail Brad Pitt" or "Conquer the world." Although, my Voodoo babies, Brad will come around. No, no, no, jokes, I swear, honey. Where was I....No really, this list is of real things that I know I can accomplish with a little elbow grease, patience and encouragement from my homies. Lemme give you a few samples:
- Read four books by Anne Rice.
- Write 40 pages for dissertation.
- Start working on script with director.
- Learn how to drive stick.
[Voodoo Note 1/2/02: I did read not one book by Anne Rice this year, but I did read at least ten books over the last year alone, I finished my dissertation, I consulted with a director already, and I have started work on the script, and drive stick? I'm working on it.]
See, not too bad. The whole point of writing a list of your goals is that you learn how to prioritize your life, and you find the time to accomplish the things that you've set out to do. Many people talk a lot of stuff about doing this and that, but until it becomes a real priority in your life, then ain't shit gonna happen. You know those people, always dreamin' dreams out of their nether regions, but they still in that same beat up car, dating that tired old heffa, and makin' 2.50 at that mcdonalds talkin' about how they gonna be a baller. Say it with me people: Shhhhheiiiiit.
So in order for you all to get your groove on in 200[2], let's make us a list. The Voodoo Child is going to get you homies up and running because I cannot have no little half-ass Voodoo Babies! Getcho paper!
- Write the date.
- Start writing your goals. No crazy mess like buy new Jordans on the day they come out. Some REAL meaningful stuff that'll get you ahead in life. "Apply to graduate school by February."
- Save this list in a place where you know you can peep it regularly. In your binder, on your bathroom mirror, on your wall, tattooed on that fat ass, you get the point. Regulate yourself, see how you're doing. Keep yourself on track.
- I know this is hard, but tell someone that you can trust, not that dude who be comin' over and drinkin' up all your soda and eatin' your chips who you secretly hate, but your homie. Someone who can back you up. You need support on a regular basis.
- Cross stuff off as you do it. Wow! Now that feels AIGHT!
- Same time next year, review, rewrite and start all over.
I know that this isn't the answer to your problems. You might need something more concrete, like a weed wacker for that hair on your back, or miconozol for those itchy bits in your crack. But child, this is the Voodoo Mama who got your back! Now get to writin' before I whup yo' little be-hind.
The first Voodoo Baby, official or not, who sends me their list of goals (nothing gross, please, I get enough of that from Beer Can), and leaves me an address will get a WOWEE free postcard from beautiful San Francisco courtesy of the Voodoo Child. So get it together, you know you want free stuff.
Tuesday, January 01, 2002
The Year in Prospect
2002. A palindrome. A future. A time to think about what's next. Here are your Voodoo Predictions for 2002. Mark my word, some shit is goin' down.
First, the Voodoo Babies get their notices:
World of Curls will fall in love, and will amazingly not leave any of her friends behind.
Baby Boy gets a sister. Mighty Mom and Brahma Bull are full of glee.
Drunken Master goes places he's never been and stays there.
Beer Can gives up smoking for a day.
Jesus comes by for a visit.
Buffy gets religion.
Four Voodoo Babies get gold rings on their fingers. You got it, ding dong, marriage.
Then Team Big Aiyah gets theirs:
Pork Honey falls in love, and then reconsiders and calls the one he really wants.
MsStraitsJackit will get voted off.
The Fredator gets a promotion.
Universe Junky falls in love with someone he can't have.
Smooth gets voted off.
Voodoo? More on that later.
Then the World gets theirs:
Two leaders will fall.
Another city will mourn.
The Niners win the Superbowl. Oh wait, this is reality based, right?
The world will hold its breath.
Watch the one in blue.
Peace comes, but with a cost.
And I shall get mine:
This is the year I get my book published.
This is the year I get "federal."
This is the year I find him and let him go.
This is the year I go where I've never gone. And get tempted enough to stay.
This is the year I see the light.
Who knows, babies. It might happen, but then again it might not. Let's just worry about here and now, shall we? Because now is what's important, the future can't happen until we live NOW.
Good luck this 2002, with growth comes pain, but in the end, we still grow.
Voodoo
2002. A palindrome. A future. A time to think about what's next. Here are your Voodoo Predictions for 2002. Mark my word, some shit is goin' down.
First, the Voodoo Babies get their notices:
World of Curls will fall in love, and will amazingly not leave any of her friends behind.
Baby Boy gets a sister. Mighty Mom and Brahma Bull are full of glee.
Drunken Master goes places he's never been and stays there.
Beer Can gives up smoking for a day.
Jesus comes by for a visit.
Buffy gets religion.
Four Voodoo Babies get gold rings on their fingers. You got it, ding dong, marriage.
Then Team Big Aiyah gets theirs:
Pork Honey falls in love, and then reconsiders and calls the one he really wants.
MsStraitsJackit will get voted off.
The Fredator gets a promotion.
Universe Junky falls in love with someone he can't have.
Smooth gets voted off.
Voodoo? More on that later.
Then the World gets theirs:
Two leaders will fall.
Another city will mourn.
The Niners win the Superbowl. Oh wait, this is reality based, right?
The world will hold its breath.
Watch the one in blue.
Peace comes, but with a cost.
And I shall get mine:
This is the year I get my book published.
This is the year I get "federal."
This is the year I find him and let him go.
This is the year I go where I've never gone. And get tempted enough to stay.
This is the year I see the light.
Who knows, babies. It might happen, but then again it might not. Let's just worry about here and now, shall we? Because now is what's important, the future can't happen until we live NOW.
Good luck this 2002, with growth comes pain, but in the end, we still grow.
Voodoo
Showtime at the Apollo or Hey, Don't Puke on Yourself
I have a friend who once told me "Partying on New Years and Halloween is like amateur night." Indeed it is. And since we're on the subject of partying for New Years, let's talk about last night.
I roll with World of Curls and the Rhyming Machine to go to a house party. I don't know whose house this is, nor do I know what is goin' down in the house. All I know is it's in a neighborhood that can be cool....or it can be uncool (muggings, car jacks, etc, but then again, hey, that's like home to me). I am guaranteed to see Gengalicious, You Want This, Hellraiser, and Sugar3. We roll past the house, there are some folks there. All gravy.
We struggle to find parking, but circle for a while before we find it. We wind up walking two blocks, and in an unfamiliar hood, that's not necessarily a good thing, but like I used to, just look pissed and no one will generally mess with you...Except your own friends. Okay...by the way, when we were rollin' through the neighborhood, I swore I saw some of my students in front of the house. I'm thinking to myself, what the hell. Usually if my students show up when there's a party, i have to maintain because you know, it's not that kinda party. Especially if they work for me. Sheesh.
Anyways, I shake the thought out of my head. I walk upstairs and sure enough, the gang's all there, and so are my students. Not one, but two. Fresh. NO more drinking for me tonight. I half have a mind to call a cab and go home at this point, but I manage to stay out of their way and they stay out of mine. A few minutes pass, and next thing you know, everybody is drinking like little fishies in a tank of grand marnier (which really tastes like poo). So one by one, I watch certain peeps start to disappear. I hear a few minutes later that they're pukin'. 4...3.....2........1!!!!
(dry heaving sounds and chunks of potato salad hitting the concrete)
Okay kids, note to self: If you're going to drink, make sure you eat a little something before. Make that a big something, so you can drink like a greasy pot-bellied man with a wifebeater, okay? Don't forget that when it comes to tolerance, 1)depends on what you ate prior to drinking, 2) how much you usually drink, 3) how much you're drinking, and 4) your body fat! I don't mean to preach, but lemme tell you a story...There was a guy there, let's call him, hmm, I don't know, Lou FerrigNOT. He started drinkin' gettin' off da hinges. Gettin' all friendly and mess. Didn't balance it out with food, and we started dancing. I thought he was coughing, and then it looked like he was dry heaving. I rush him outside because it was clear that he needed some guidance in the matter, and he proceeds to cover his mouth and run. And puke on his hand. And his arm. And finally on the concrete.
I look down at the ground and I see piles of puke. Hmm, I said out loud, potato salad.
Being the good Voodoo, I go upstairs get him some water. Normally you would drink it to counter the effects of having tooth rotting bile in your mouth as well as the masticated contents of your stomach. I said "Normally" but you know, he just rinsed off his arm and his hand. Feel the love. Lou FerrigNOT, tsk tsk, bad green buff monster. We move on.
So there's more puking going on upstairs, worried significant others helping with the situation. More drinking and why the hell are they singing "father abraham, had many sons, many sons had faaaaaaaaaaather abraham and I am one of them, and so are you as we go marching on....."
Scary.
So at some predetermined point, World of Curls, the Rhyming Machine and I cast off. We tiptoed through the yakkage in the front and headed off with Beatless Groove to the car.
Happy New Year....I can't say it was the bomb, but it definitely was amusing.
Love to Pork Honey for the phone call...You're shagadelic.
And to the rest of you, DRINK WATER!
Voooodooooo runnin' from my magic
I have a friend who once told me "Partying on New Years and Halloween is like amateur night." Indeed it is. And since we're on the subject of partying for New Years, let's talk about last night.
I roll with World of Curls and the Rhyming Machine to go to a house party. I don't know whose house this is, nor do I know what is goin' down in the house. All I know is it's in a neighborhood that can be cool....or it can be uncool (muggings, car jacks, etc, but then again, hey, that's like home to me). I am guaranteed to see Gengalicious, You Want This, Hellraiser, and Sugar3. We roll past the house, there are some folks there. All gravy.
We struggle to find parking, but circle for a while before we find it. We wind up walking two blocks, and in an unfamiliar hood, that's not necessarily a good thing, but like I used to, just look pissed and no one will generally mess with you...Except your own friends. Okay...by the way, when we were rollin' through the neighborhood, I swore I saw some of my students in front of the house. I'm thinking to myself, what the hell. Usually if my students show up when there's a party, i have to maintain because you know, it's not that kinda party. Especially if they work for me. Sheesh.
Anyways, I shake the thought out of my head. I walk upstairs and sure enough, the gang's all there, and so are my students. Not one, but two. Fresh. NO more drinking for me tonight. I half have a mind to call a cab and go home at this point, but I manage to stay out of their way and they stay out of mine. A few minutes pass, and next thing you know, everybody is drinking like little fishies in a tank of grand marnier (which really tastes like poo). So one by one, I watch certain peeps start to disappear. I hear a few minutes later that they're pukin'. 4...3.....2........1!!!!
(dry heaving sounds and chunks of potato salad hitting the concrete)
Okay kids, note to self: If you're going to drink, make sure you eat a little something before. Make that a big something, so you can drink like a greasy pot-bellied man with a wifebeater, okay? Don't forget that when it comes to tolerance, 1)depends on what you ate prior to drinking, 2) how much you usually drink, 3) how much you're drinking, and 4) your body fat! I don't mean to preach, but lemme tell you a story...There was a guy there, let's call him, hmm, I don't know, Lou FerrigNOT. He started drinkin' gettin' off da hinges. Gettin' all friendly and mess. Didn't balance it out with food, and we started dancing. I thought he was coughing, and then it looked like he was dry heaving. I rush him outside because it was clear that he needed some guidance in the matter, and he proceeds to cover his mouth and run. And puke on his hand. And his arm. And finally on the concrete.
I look down at the ground and I see piles of puke. Hmm, I said out loud, potato salad.
Being the good Voodoo, I go upstairs get him some water. Normally you would drink it to counter the effects of having tooth rotting bile in your mouth as well as the masticated contents of your stomach. I said "Normally" but you know, he just rinsed off his arm and his hand. Feel the love. Lou FerrigNOT, tsk tsk, bad green buff monster. We move on.
So there's more puking going on upstairs, worried significant others helping with the situation. More drinking and why the hell are they singing "father abraham, had many sons, many sons had faaaaaaaaaaather abraham and I am one of them, and so are you as we go marching on....."
Scary.
So at some predetermined point, World of Curls, the Rhyming Machine and I cast off. We tiptoed through the yakkage in the front and headed off with Beatless Groove to the car.
Happy New Year....I can't say it was the bomb, but it definitely was amusing.
Love to Pork Honey for the phone call...You're shagadelic.
And to the rest of you, DRINK WATER!
Voooodooooo runnin' from my magic
I like long walks, especially when they're taken by people who annoy me. ~Fred Allen
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Previous Posts
- The Queen is Dead. Long Live the Queen!
- The Sad Truth
- Ms. New Duty
- Screw You, I'm Not Getting Rid of My Books!
- Try not to laugh. Really.
- Four-toed statues make baby Jesus cry.
- Goodbye and Good Luck, part 1
- Lost: Update
- Summer Comes, Summer Goes
- Lost: An Update
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