Riles. Rile Dawg. Kilo Riley. The Big Boy. The Dude. H.R. Fluf n' Puf. Yellow Fang. Big Guy. Ri Guy. John Wayne. Chief Big Paw. Mr. Cat. Mr. Boo. Mr. Big Fluff. Boo-Berry. The Stay Fluft Marshmallow Cat. Rilos: The Paws of Fate. Sweet Boy. Sweetpea. Love Bug. Grampa (in his later years). The Notorious C.A.T.

Just a few of the nicknames I had for my beloved Riley, who passed away last week after a long and happy life. He was sixteen years old and his kidneys had just about given out, so last week I made the painful decision to put him to sleep. I set the appointment for Thursday, but (being an independent soul), Riley died on his own the day before--the morning of Wednesday, May 14. Like Fleetwood Mac, he preferred to go his own way.

I didn't know Riley when he was a kitten, but he must have been adorable--just a little ball of fluff with ears and a tail. His previous owners bought him from a Maine Coon breeder when he was a wee one, gave him a dorky show cat name ("Just Clowning Around"), and a home for the first seven years of his life. I assume that they loved and cared for him as best they could while he was part of their family, but I have no way of knowing that for sure. I do know that they surrendered him to the Indianapolis Humane Society in January of 2000, because (according to his chart), their granddaughter was allergic to him. (First of all, I'd have gotten rid of the granddaughter before I'd given up Riley, but that's just me--I have more compassion than most people. Secondly, there is something called allergy medication. Duh.) But as lame as I think his first family was for giving him up, I am obviously very grateful to them for doing so. If they hadn't taken him to the shelter, I would have missed out on the most wonderful cat ever.

Riley came into my life in early 2000 when my ex-boyfriend Rick and I were looking for a second cat--a companion for our cat Shelby to hang out with during the day while we were at work. We stopped by the Humane Society just a day after Riley was dropped off by his previous owners. When we first saw him he was scrunched up in a far corner of his cage, petrified by the strange sounds and smells of the shelter. Rick and I took him into a glassed-off private room to see how he reacted to us and Riley sat quietly on my lap (a testament to how terrified he must have been--Riley was NOT a lap cat) while Rick and I read his information chart. We learned that he was seven years old, got along great with other cats (his owners had another cat and a dog), and had never bitten or scratched anyone. I think it took us all of five minutes to decide that Riley (or The Cat Soon To Be Known As Riley) would be coming home with us that day.

From that moment on, Riley was the one of the few constants in my life. He was with me through two broken engagements, countless boyfriends, sort-of boyfriends, half-assed boyfriends (there were A LOT of those), three roommates, and five moves (one of them across four states). He was always there, purring and looking on patiently with plenty of love to give.

He was rather eccentric, which was one of the things I loved best about him. He liked to eat but wasn't exactly a health nut; his favorite foods were macaroni and cheese, vanilla Haagen Dazs, canned chicken chunks, deli ham and melted mozzarella. If you were eating something he was interested in he would sit by you and pat your arm with his paw until you offered him a bite (he didn't always eat it, he just wanted you to offer it to him. He was a stickler for manners, I guess). He was also a bit of a couch potato--one of his favorite things to do was watch TV with me when I got home from work at night. He even sat down with Shane once and watched an entire Notre Dame football game; Shane claims he even meowed at the TV during an exciting play.

He was my rock, my guy, my loverboy. A friend of mine back home once said she wished she could kiss Riley and transform him into a human version of himself, like in The Frog Prince. She said that if Riley were human, he would be the perfect man: sweet, gentle, appreciative, always in the mood for a cuddle. "What do you mean? He already IS the perfect man," I told her. "Changing to human form would be a step down for him."

He was the cat with a heart of gold, and I consider myself lucky to have found him, to have shared my life with such a kind, funny, loving little animal. I love and miss him terribly, and I know that I always will.

So wherever you are tonight, I ask you to raise a glass for the big guy.

Hail Riley, full of grace, my cat is with me. Blessed art thou among kittens, and blessed art thou for being so fucking awesome.

As he was in the beginning, as he is and ever shall be, always and forever.

The Dude abides.

Riley Cat
1993 - 2008

ENGLAND DIARY, PART II

Thursday night 2/28/08
We settled at Lodmoor House B&B in Weymouth, which so far is my favorite B&B of the trip. The owner is incredibly nice, and seems genuinely happy to have our business. She served us tea and cookies while Ian filled out our register info, and she chatted to us about the time she spent living in America in the late seventies. She worked in Cape Canaveral Florida and did a bit of traveling around the U.S.---Florida to California on a Greyhound bus. She lived in FL for two years and considered settling there, but said she missed English food too much. She has a ton of Native American memorabilia in her place; dream catchers and paintings of famous (and non-famous) Indians.

Ian and I ate at a little place in town just about two blocks away from the B&B (it was too cold to walk, and we were both tired!) I had a cheese plate and mushrooms with a white wine sauce. We had more excellent British beer with our food (I'll never be able to go back to watery American beer now). I am getting a bit melancholy about my trip winding down. I know I won't want to leave England when it's time to go.

2/29/08
Made an appointment to visit Othona in Burton Bradstock (the hippie farm I where I had applied to volunteer a few years back). Found the farm and met with Mandy (assistant) and Tony (the main dude). They were both very nice. Tony was laid back, funny and friendly. Had a chat with him and then he sent Ian and me to have a look around the grounds. We looked at the little vegetable greenhouse and talked to the little old lady and old man who were tending the gardens. She was complaining about rabbits. The garden was outside the house where the core members lived. Then we found a paddock where we could see the ocean. It was a cold day and the waves were rough. Ian was pointing out which direction South America is from where we were (it's the closest land mass from that point if you're facing the right direction--not that you can see it from England, of course). The air was chilly and the paddock was soft and squishy (I still have Othona mud on the boots I purchased in Canterbury!) Ian being Ian, he wanted to go through a part of the gate that said PRIVATE--NO ADMITTANCE. I hesitated but he maintained that it was still Othona property (it wasn't). We ended up in the back yard of a private house, so we picked our way back (I love Ian) to the paddock, then through another entrance where there was some sort of pool apparatus with pipes running through it. Ian called it "the cess pit." We made our way back and up the hill to the Othona art building and chatted to the lady volunteer who was cleaning it. Ian was interested in all the art projects that were around--mostly made by children who had visited the farm. He told me he had done a lot of work in clay. The woman there told us that art was not her "thing," and that music was her passion. She and Ian discussed piano and organ (he plays both). Ian spied a postcard of the huge naked giant carved into the hillside on Cerne Abbas. "They drew Y-fronts on him!" he said (Y-fronts is Brit for jockey shorts). The woman said "Oh, I dont' mind the naked giant on the hillside, because it's just an ancient fertility symbol. People shouldn't get all uptight about it. If it wasn't a fertility symbol though," she added, "believe me, I'd be the first one to object." (!) Ian and I were too busy laughing at the Y-fronts. He remarked "When I was a kid, I didn't realize that the giant was naked, I just thought (the penis) was just some sort of funny design drawn on him!" Ian was probably a very interesting child. :-) Sp we left the little art hut and checked out the gazebo that was built entirely out of wagon wheels and wagon parts. We wanted to find Tony's house, because he had mentioned he had a little place in the woods out behind the bigger buildings. After searching several minutes through the woods (it was in a dense part) we found it. There was a little black and white cat lurking about (who I learned later is Tony's cat, Otto) and we peered in the kitchen window of the cabin where we spied another cat (Bella, Otto's mother) lying on the counter with the dirty dishes. Tony had warned us that his place was all broken down and that the next big project was tearing his old house down and building a new one. We went back to the main house so that we could have a look at the chapel and the library that was connected. (We had to pull off our mud-caked boots before going in). The chapel was small but cute, Christian-hippie style, with a mural painted on one wall. Ian and I went up some stairs that led to a little storage area where you could look down over the chapel. We poked around but there wasn't much up there, just boxes of old books and churchy-type decorations and stuff. I found a book titled something like "Planning church services for young people in the 80's." It looked straight out of MHA religion class! We went back downstairs and into the little library connected to the chapel. Among the books I saw were The Da Vinci Code, something by Maeve Binchy, and The Gospel According to Peanuts. All the books were carefully organized and cataloged like an actual library. Ian found a book by Bill Oddie, the environmentalist mentioned in "I'm Alan Partridge." The library was filled with cushy chairs and had windows with wooded views. It was very peaceful and serene; the type of room I could imagine disappearing in for hours.
We headed back inside so I could have a chat with Tony. I asked a few questions about openings for volunteers--he said they would likely have some coming up in the next few months, perhaps for the amount of time I was looking for (3-6 months). Tony suggested a preliminary week-long visit to "try on" Othona and see if it was the right place for me (and, presumably, to screen me a bit and make sure I'm not some anti-social psychotic). There is also a question of getting a work permit for me so they'd be able to pay me a (very modest) stipend if I volunteer there for any length of time. We then broke for lunch with some of the other (very friendly) volunteers that included cous cous, pita bread, hummus, spinach and tomatoes, and feta cheese, most of which was homemade and/or from the (organic) garden. Tony sat next to me and we chatted some more and explained what every day life is like for the Othona volunteers, how the routine goes, who cooks, who cleans, and how the chores are divided. The most important tasks are devoted to looking after the guests who come for retreats and seminars. After lunch Ian and I helped clear up the dishes (I noticed a sign in the dining room detailing "Compostable" items and "Non-compostable" items). We both had a look upstairs at the bedrooms where the Othona guests stay, then we went downstairs to bid Tony and Mandy goodbye. I mentioned to Tony that I would like to come visit this summer and possibly stay for a weeklong workshop at Othona to try it on, and he took down my email to put me on their monthly newsletter list.
On our way to Cerne Abbas to see the naked giant on the hill we stopped to look at a tiny little village--the tiniest that we had come across--called Nether Cerne. All it had besides a church and maybe three houses was a dirt road that had turned to mud. I marveled at the fact that it had a name and a chuch; it was little more than a rural cul-de-sac.
We found Cerne Abbas and the naked giant. Ian said that he didn't think that we could walk along the hill by the carving like he did as a child because it seemed to be all blocked off now. We had to stand near the base of the hill and admire the ancient naked man from a distance. The information board stated that (like Stonehenge), no one knew for sure who had done the carving and what purpose it was supposed to serve, but a popular theory was that it had been there since Druidian times and that (as the lady at Othona said) it was meant to be a fertility symbol. We didn't stay long--it was so cold and windy--so we got back in the car and drove to Salisbury so we could check out Stonehenge. We arrived there about 3:45 (it closed at 4:00). I had to pee so badly, so Ian and I (literally) ran to the restrooms. The women's loo at Stonehenge turned out to be the nastiest I'd encountered in all of England. After availing myself of the facilities I met Ian and we crossed the street and stood outside of the fence that enclosed Stonehenge. We didn't want to pay the fee to get inside since we would only have about five minutes to spend before the chased us out for closing time, so we watched some crazy French and Italian tourists take photos. I bemoaned the fact that--yet again--my digital camera was out of battery juice and I couldn't even take photos from outside of the fence. Ian walked around with me and helped me find some chalky rocks to take back to my friend Ellie, reasoning that they were probably part of some of the same minerals that made up the "real" Stonehenge rocks. We tried to go inside the gift shop so I could at least pick up some Stonehenge postcards, but it was closed by that time as well.
Ian and I debated whether to check out Oxford or to go on back to London. Ian theorized that I could see Oxford and more of the countryside during my next visit, when the weather would be warmer; whereas you don't really need nice weather for London. Ian rang his office to see if someone could look up the "Alan Partrige petrol station" on the internet (the BP where Michael the Geordie worked in the second series of I'm Alan Partridge.) Graham found an address on the net for us and Ian entered it onto his Tom Tom. It turned out to be not far from Staines (home of Ali G!). We passed it once, then turned around so I could use the bathroom and buy some batteries to take photos of (what we think) is the Alan Partridge petrol station. Ian was very precise about the picture taking and tried to get a photo from the exact angle where the exterior shots were filmed in the show.




We then drove into London and then went to Harrod's, parking on a little sidestreet in Knightsbridge--very rich area of London, although it didn't look that extravagent from the outside--and then raced into Harrod's because of the cold! Harrod's was truly amazing, like a palace. It was packed with very well-heeled tourists, mostly French and Muslim. We browsed in the fancy deli areas, looking at the cheeses and the specialty counters: Indian food, sushi, etc. Ian showed me a very posh little cafe where they present your food stacked on tiered trays on the table. Everything was so ornate and detailed--SO much money in there.


We just randomly picked an area because we knew we didn't have much time (Harrod's closed at 8:00). We looked in the china department. It had some amazing works of art--colored glass vases and sculptures from artists, some weren't for sale and were just on display. I actually contemplated buying a little orange glass votive holder priced at about 10 pounds, but instead decided to pick up a mug designed by David Bowie (it cost 11 pounds--roughly $22), a much better choice. Ian and I wandered through the electronics section, where we encountered a crazy dark-haired, fifty-ish woman laughing maniacally at images on a flat-screen, high-def TV. We sidled away from her as quickly as possible. (Ian later proclaimed the woman NFN--"Normal For Norfolk"--an expression the Brits use to describe anyone who seems a bit simple or slightly touched in the head. Norfolk is apparently where the simple folk live, a reason why Ian finds Alan Partridge so funny). The TVs were outrageously expensive, some around 4,500 pounds. We checked out the toy department, where cute, twenty-ish sales guys were zooming around on little wheels attached to the heels of their shoes. "Very cool," I murmured, and the salesman goes, "Ah, the American says 'very cool,' that's how I can tell you're Americans!" I protested that Ian was actually English, and he said "A British person would say 'Wicked!" I was like, whatevs, dude. As we were leaving (Harrod's was starting to close for the night), we checked out a creepy looking wax sculpture of the owner of Harrod's--that al-Fayed guy who was the father of Princess Diana's late boyfriend (Dodi al Fayed.)

Outside, I got a good shot of one of Harrod's very elaborate display windows.


We ran back to the car and Ian drove me around so I could see some more of London that we didn't have time for when we were there on Sunday. We drove by Buckingham Palace, then around the perimeter of Hyde Park. I told Ian that I wanted to see the dodgy areas, so he proceded to drive me around the cockney district, including Commercial Street, which he told me was probably the worst road in London. We drove by a seedy looking building with laundry draped over the balcony railings and hanging on clothes lines. Ian said "That's where the dole people live." (I thought at first he said "dull people"). We gave up on finding the vegetarian restaurant Ian had heard about (as well as the idea of staying in London for the night), since it was a Friday evening and everything would be packed. We decided to make our way back to Cambridge and stop at an Indian restaurant along the way. We hit Loughton, a London suburb and found an intimate little Indian place where I proceeded to pig out...we hadn't had anything to eat since our light lunch at Othona. When we were leaving, we somehow got roped into a conversation with two drunk, paunchy middle-aged guys who were waiting for their takeaway order. One of them was a piano tuner ("music is close to my heart", he said) and I shifted from foot to foot as he and Ian discussed pianos and organs and then engineering and science--I didn't mean to be so impatient but I was suffering from fatigue and very sore legs. After about ten minutes I nudged Ian, since it looked as if the guy was not going to shut up, but it took a while for Ian to get the hint and excuse himself from the conversation so we could go. When we finally tore ourselves away and were walking back to the car, Ian had this to say about the guy: "He was interesting and had some good ideas, but just when he would start to make a solid point he would veer off into something totally off the wall that made no sense. Typical hippie!" I had not a clue what they had been discussing, as I tend to automatically zone out when the talk turns to logical, left-brainy sort of topics. It's a bad habit of mine.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT POST...

ENGLAND DIARY, Part I

2-22-08
2:25pm
Detroit airport
Slept about 4 hours last night. Up by 5am, finished packing for trip. Showered, ready to go by 7:15, when Shane picked me up. Stopped at pharmacy to get happy pills then got to the airport in time to catch my flight to Detroit, the first leg of my international trip! Sat by friendly middle-aged couple on their way to Syracuse. I read the new Mortified book and dozed off. Now in Chili's at the Detroit airport waiting for my beer and spinach/artichoke dip. Chatty college girl sitting in next booth gabbing into her cell phone. Detroit is a cool airport - an overhead tram takes you up over the shops and deposits you at your gate. Seeing a lot of eighties hair in the airports today, sported by people way too young to be wearing them. Eerie. Beer is good--Chili's sucks. Not much in the way of vegetarian friendly food. The music in Chili's is like the best (worst) of my high school jukebox. They just played C&C Music Factory and before that Good Vibrations by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. Now it's something (I think?) by Expose, and I also heard Creep by TLC. That pretty much sums up Chili's--a restaurant forever trapped in early-90's hell. Oh, just heard Janet Jackson Love Will Never Do Without You and Whitney Houston - All the Man That I Need. God, I forgot songs like this even existed! (Probably a good thing). I'm almost tempted to stick around to see what they play next. Oh finally--something good: U2 Even Better Than the Real Thing.

Almost to Amsterdam
time in US - 10:30pm
time where I'm going: 4:30am
Good flight, couldn't see much out the window because of clouds, then darkness. It's weird to travel into such a radically different time zone. Almost like time travel. I went to the loo before the plane took off and haven't been back since; amazing considering I've had two sizable meals, three glasses of water and a cup of coffee. Prehaps (sic) the air pressure does weird things to my bladder? International flights are cool, with the huge planes and three rows of seats and movies. I watched Dan In Real Life (not that funny, contrived, heavily cliched) then Things We Lost in the Fire (uneven and overlong, but interesting, with strong performances). I dozed a bit in between movies, not very much though. My drowsiness was drug-induced. I just finished Mortified. My ears are exploding. I am ready to land!

Time in US- 1:32am
Time in Amsterdam 7:32am
I've been waiting FOREVER and I can't even get into the fucking gate area where there are real seats. The Amsterdam airport is cool looking but it was completely desolate when I arrived, which sucked. I was hoping to see some action. Finally, they're letting us in the gate area. How nice of them.

USA time 3:56pm
England 9:56 pm
I was searched at airport customs by very polite Muslim British woman. Willing to bet American customs are not so polite and apologetic. Ian picked me up at London City airport and we ate beans and toast at ASDA, shopped for food and came back to Cambridge, Ian's place. Slept for 8 hours, now drinking wine and watching Top Gear and Alan Partridge. So nice to snuggle with Ian. :-)

2-24-08
On our way to London and the Tate Modern. We've taken protein bars, cous cous and pasta to eat on the way. The roads are very twisty in Cambridge and (all) the stripes on the streets are white, so that it looks like we are always going the wrong way on the roads! No way to tell if they are one way or two way, you just have to guess I suppose.

2-25-08
Saw Tate Modern, then across the street to St. Paul's Cathedral. Couldn't stay long, as a service was starting. The mosaics inside were gorgeous! Hiked from the East End to the West End (stopped at an Irish pub on the way), then passed Parliament House, Westminster Abbey and the London Eye.







Ate at a dodgy (but nice on the inside) Korean restaurant. Then took a cab back to the car and hung out with Ian's friend Mariella and some of her mates. Spent today watching Alan Partridge and Some Mothers Do Have 'Em with Michael Crawford while Ian did his taxes.

2-26-08Made a stop by Ian's office to pick up 27 computers. Saw a bit of what their casino monitoring software does, and learned about a card casino game called Punto Banco (apparently popular in American casinos?) Now we're driving down to Canterbury to deliver the computers and do some sightseeing. After that we're off to Dover to see the white cliffs.

(Later)
Walked around Canterbury today--it's a great town! Very posh, lots of cool shops and trendy people.

Did some window shopping, then had a pickled egg over chips at a fish and chips place. Ian had fried mushrooms and a fried Mars bar. He also finished my chips for me. I had so much grease in my system (it was a massive portion of chips) that I was afraid I would explode. I don't know how Ian stays so skinny.



We walked around Canterbury and walked for a bit along the wall. Saw two rats on the sidewalk and nearly peed myself in terror. Walked up a big steep hill with a monument at the top built in memory of some famous dead Canterburian. It was an amazing view at the top--you could see the whole city from there! My feet were freezing by this point, so I had to stop and buy some cheap boots on our way back to the car. We also tried to go in the church (where the Archbishop of Canterbury is), but it was too expensive and we decided to save our money for the hotel tonight. We're in Dover now, it's nighttime but I did catch a glimpse of the white cliffs and Dover Castle (breathtaking!) Looking forward to seeing them in the daylight tomorrow.

2-27-08
Stayed at Castle House B&B in Dover last night, had a beer at Ellie's (Ella's?) pub, then Italian food at a quiet, friendly little restaurant. Woke up early this morn and had breakfast (eggs, baked beans, hash browns and toast), then went back to the room. Two pissed-off cleaning people chased us out of the room--came by once and groused "It's half ten!" but Ian was responding to some work emails and wasn't ready to go. He said "They're just trying it on, I'm sure they've got other rooms to clean." I said, "Okay, next time they knock, YOU answer." They came by again as we were getting our stuff together, and this time Ian was all apologetic to them and said to me, "I think we were the only guests, that's why they were keen to get us out." When I was leaving the room I was all smiles and apologized, but they just glared at me and the woman said (again!) "It was half ten!" I would have told them to kiss my fat American butt, although I'm sure that wouldn't have gone over too well.

Visited Dover Castle after that, which was awesome. I especially liked being up high and seeing the views of the English Channel (you could barely see France for the fog) and of course the white cliffs. Toured the entire castle, learned what a pain in the ass Henry the VIII was (as well as how he selected some of his brides), saw his "throne," saw how he took a crap--all very interesting, but my favorite part was climbing to various points outside the castle and looking out onto the town and the English Channel. The views were absolutely amazing. I got some good photos (despite my digital camera repeatedly assing out on me). We also toured a WWII command center built inside one of the white cliffs (this was on the castle grounds) and saw the inside of the church, as well as the remains of a Roman lighthouse built in the 1st century A.D.








We drove along the south coast, through some cute fishing villages, saw lots of sheep, stopped in Eastbourne ("a seaside resort for old people," according to Ian), walked along the pier and the gravel beach, then stopped for Indian food at a tiny place in Eastbourne that took us forever to get to ("all the good restaurants are in dodgy parts of town"--Ian) Great food, but I think I left my favorite scarf there.

We then drove up to the very top of a lookout cliff called Beachy Head (Alan Partridge made two Beachy Head jokes in series 2)...it's supposed to be a suicide hot spot. The morbid (and hilarious) thing was that there was a little red emergency car that said "Chaplain" prowling the roads at the top of the cliff, shining a flashlight and presumably looking for potential suicides. He seemed awfully interested in us, but must have decided that we looked too happy, so he moved on. We wandered around in the dark on Beachy Head and saw more stars than I've ever seen before. It was one of my favorite moments here so far. We then drove down to Brighton and looked for a B&B (I wanted to stay at one by the seaside that had a cat in the lobby named Mr. Watts, but Ian deemed it too expensive), we settled on a place called Valentine House run by a girl with bright red hair that looks about 25.


We spent about an hour driving around looking for a pharmacy that was open late so I could buy contact lens solution, but no dice. We went to bed about midnight and woke up at 8:30 for a full English breakfast (with vegetarian sausage for me) cooked by the friendly red haired girl. It was much better food than the B&B in Dover.

2-29-08

Yesterday we explored Brighton. The first thing I had to do was buy a new top because I'm sick of wearing the same two tops (the rest of my clothes are back in Cambridge at Ian's). We stopped at a mall (Churchill Square?) where I bought a top, then we went back to the van so I could ditch my old shirt and change into the new one. Then we walked along the beach and collected shells that Ian called scollocks (sp?) very smooth, white shells edged with soft brown flecks. I got enough to make some cool jewelry for myself when I get back home. Saw the crumbling Victorian pier, took photos of the ocean, and then went to the pier that's actually operational. Had some fried donuts and went to an arcade. Ian played a flight simulator game that he scored high on, then we played air hockey (he beat me by one point).




We went back to the town and looked at some more shops. I dragged Ian into a hippie tarot card faerie emporium. He said "we'll get posessed by the devil." After that I bought a scarf at an Indian Hindu hippie place, as I had misplaced my scarf the night before. I got a giant purple chiffon one so I can blend in with the locals (all the woman in England are wearing giant silk or chiffon scarves around their necks). We stopped at a pub and had a beer (an old weird drunk Englsihman was wandering around the bar and laughing weirdly). Then on the way back to the car Ian spotted my scarf that I thought I'd lost the night before--someone had found it and hung it up on a little wrought iron fence! It's amazing that I even got it back. Ian said I'd better wash it before I wore it again as some bloke could have used it to wipe himself after shagging a crackwhore. ("You're such an optimist," I told him). At any rate, I haven't worn it since I got it back.

We set out for Weymouth (about a 2 hour drive from Brighton), and I fell asleep in the car. Had a minor hissy fit when I woke up because we were deep in the small fishing villages along the coast and there was nothing bigger than a convenience stor anywhere (I still needed contact lens solution and was getting desperate!) Since the pharmacies here close at like 4pm and it was about 6:30, I started to think I was S.O.L. We managed to find a big grocery store that had one, tiny bottle of solution on the last shelf that we looked on. Breathed a sigh of relief and promised Ian "no more hissy fits." We drove around Weymouth and then found the little village where Ian grew up (Preston?), including the houses he lived in as a wee one. So cute!

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT POST...

LONDON CALLING
Ya, I was there too!



Actually, the above photo was taken in Canterbury, although London was one of the many places I hit on my first ever tour of England! I've been back for two weeks, but have just got round to posting (jet lag, post-holiday depression, work, etc. got in the way). There are many more photos to post from my fabulous UK vacation with my Ian...til then, you'll have to make do with this one.

I believe at one point I said that I was reluctant to post any political content on this blog, but now I think, fuck it. I'm a tree-hugging pro-choice hippie who fully supports gay marriage and health care reform and any and every issue that makes a Republican pro-life turbo-Christian crawl into a corner, curl up in a ball and tremble with fear. Furthermore, it's MY blog and I can spew each and every one of my liberal opinions whenever I goddamn feel like it.

So here I go...

I don't trust McCain (or any Republican candidate, for that matter). Despite McCain painting himself as a compassionate conservative (an oxymoron, BTW), and attempting to distance himself from Bush, the memo from VoteVets.org (below) tells an entirely different story. Apparently McCain is perfectly willing to get down on all fours with the rest of his brethren and give Bush a good old fashioned ass-licking when no one is paying attention. And, given that Americans are famous for not paying attention, that is just what he's been doing.

Read on.

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TO: Interested Parties
FROM: VoteVets.org
RE: Senator McCain's Real Record on the War in Iraq
DATE: February 8, 2008

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Senator John McCain presents himself as a maverick and a critic of the Iraq war. But a close read of his record indicates that his position on the Iraq war has consistently matched President George W. Bush's.

Before The War:

McCain used many of the same arguments as Donald Rumsfeld, Vice President Cheney and President Bush when advocating going to war with Iraq.

McCain co-sponsored the Use of Force Authorization that gave President George W. Bush the green light—and a blank check—for going to war with Iraq. [SJ Res 46, 10/3/02]

McCain argued Saddam was "a threat of the first order." Senator McCain said that a policy of containing Iraq to blunt its weapons of mass destruction program is "unsustainable, ineffective, unworkable and dangerous." McCain: "I believe Iraq is a threat of the first order, and only a change of regime will make Iraq a state that does not threaten us and others, and where liberated people assume the rights and responsibilities of freedom." [Speech to the Center for Strategic & International Studies, 2/13/03]

McCain echoed Bush and Cheney's rationale for going to war. McCain: "It's going to send the message throughout the Middle East that democracy can take hold in the Middle East." [Fox, Hannity & Colmes, 2/21/03]

McCain echoed Bush and Cheney's talking points that the U.S. would only be in Iraq for a short time. McCain: "It's clear that the end is very much in sight. ... It won't be long...it'll be a fairly short period of time." [ABC, 4/9/03]

McCain said winning the war would be "easy." "I know that as successful as I believe we will be, and I believe that the success will be fairly easy, we will still lose some American young men or women." [CNN, 9/24/02]

During The War:

Senator McCain praised Donald Rumsfeld as late as May 12, 2004, after the Abu Ghraib scandal.

Asked if Donald Rumsfeld can continue to be an effective secretary of defense, McCain: "Yes, today I do and I believe he's done a fine job. He's an honorable man." [Hannity and Colmes, 5/12/04]

Senator McCain repeatedly supported President Bush on the Iraq War—voting with him in the Senate, defending his actions and publicly praising his leadership.

McCain maintains the war was a good idea.

At the 2004 Republican National Convention, McCain, focusing on the war in Iraq, said that while weapons of mass destruction were not found, Saddam once had them and "he would have acquired them again." McCain said the mission in Iraq "gave hope to people long oppressed" and it was "necessary, achievable and noble." McCain: "For his determination to undertake it, and for his unflagging resolve to see it through to a just end, President Bush

Senator McCain: "The war, the invasion was not a mistake. [Meet the Press, 1/6/08]

Asked if the war was a good idea worth the price in blood and treasure, McCain: "It was worth getting rid of Saddam Hussein. He had used weapons of mass destruction, and it's clear that he was hell-bent on acquiring them." [Republican Debate, 1/24/08]

McCain defended Bush's rationale for war. Asked if he thought the president exaggerated the case for war, McCain said, "I don't think so." [Fox News, 7/31/03]

McCain has been President Bush's most ardent Senate supporter on Iraq. According to Michael Shank of the Foreign Policy in Focus think tank, McCain was at times Bush's "most solid support in the Senate" on Iraq. [Foreign Policy in Focus, 1/15/08]

McCain voted against holding Bush accountable for his actions in the war. McCain opposed the creation of an independent commission to investigate the development and use of intelligence leading up to the war in Iraq. [S. Amdt. 1275 to H.R. 2658, Vote # 284, 7/16/03]

McCain praised Bush's leadership on the war. McCain: "I think the president has led with great clarity and I think he's done a great job leading the country..." [MSNBC, Hardball, 4/23/03]

Senator McCain has constantly moved the goal posts of progress for the war—repeatedly saying it would be over soon.

January 2003: "But the point is that, one, we will win this conflict. We will win it easily." [MSNBC, 1/22/03]

March 2003: "I believe that this conflict is still going to be relatively short." [NBC, Meet the Press, 3/30/03]

June 2004: "The terrorists know that this is a very critical time." [CNN, 6/23/04]

December 2005: "Overall, I think a year from now, we will have a fair amount of progress [in Iraq] if we stay the course." [The Hill, 12/8/05]

November 2006: "We're either going to lose this thing or win this thing within the next several months." [NBC, Meet the Press, 11/12/06]

Senator McCain opposed efforts to end the overextension of the military that is having a devastating impact on our troops.

McCain voted against requiring mandatory minimum downtime between tours of duty for troops serving in Iraq. [S. Amdt.. 2909 to S Amdt. 2011 to HR 1585, Vote 341, 9/19/07; S Amdt. 2012 to S Amdt. 2011 to HR 1585, Vote #241, 7/11/07]

McCain was one of only 13 senators to vote against adding $430 million for inpatient and outpatient care for veterans. [S Amdt. 3642 to HR 4939, Vote 98, 4/26/06]

Senator McCain has consistently opposed any plan to withdraw troops from Iraq.

Senator McCain repeatedly voted against a timetable for withdrawing troops from Iraq. [S. Amdt. 3876 to S.Amdt. 3874 to H.R. 2764, Vote #438, 12/18/07; S.Amdt.. 3875 to S.Amdt.. 3874 to H.R. 2764, Vote # 437, 12/18/07; S.Amdt.3164 to H.R. 3222, Vote # 362, 10/3/07; S.Amdt. 2898 to S.Amdt. 2011 to H.R. 1585, Vote #346, 9/21/07; S.Amdt. 2924 to S.Amdt.. 2011 to H.R.1585, Vote #345, 9/21/07; S.Amdt.2 087 to S.Amdt. 2011 to H.R. 1585, Vote #252, 7/18/07; S.Amdt. 643 to H.R. 1591, Vote #116, 3/27/07; S.Amdt. 4320 to S. 2766, Vote #182, 6/22/06; S.Amdt. 4442 to S. 2766, Vote #181, 6/22/06; S.Amdt.. 2519 to S.1042, Vote # 322, 11/15/05]

Senator McCain has consistently demonized Americans who want to find a responsible way to remove troops from Iraq so that we can take the fight to al Qaeda.
McCain: "I believe to set a date for withdrawal is to set a date for surrender." [Charlotte Observer, 9/16/07]

McCain called proponents of a congressional resolution opposing the troop surge in Iraq intellectually dishonest. [Associated Press. 2/4/07]

The Future:

Senator McCain now says he sees no end to the presence of U.S. troops in Iraq.

McCain: "[M]ake it a hundred" years in Iraq and "that would be fine with me." [Derry, New Hampshire Town Hall meeting, 1/3/08]

McCain on how long troops may remain in Iraq: "A thousand years. A million years. Ten million years. It depends on the arrangement we have with the Iraqi government." [Associated Press, 1/04/08]

PAID FOR BY MOVEON.ORG POLITICAL ACTION, http://pol.moveon.org/
Not authorized by any candidate or candidate's committee

What kind of fuckery is this?

First Brad Renfro, now poor Heath Ledger. Talented actors just seem to have more demons than sucky ones (although Ledger's family believes his overdose was accidental--hopefully, that's the case). After Ten Things I Hate About You and A Knight's Tale, I dismissed Heath Ledger as another teenybopper pretty boy, but I had a change of heart after catching him in Monster's Ball. His performance was the only thing worthwhile about that overpraised turd of a movie. (Halle "Check Out My Tits!" Berry won an Oscar for that crap, and yet Heath was completely robbed of his Oscar a few years later...he SO should have won Best Actor for Brokeback Mountain!) Anyhow, it's depressing. I haven't been this shook up about an actor's death since River Phoenix in 1993.

R.I.P., Heath. You will be missed.

Sad news about an actor from one of my favorite films, Ghost World. Brad Renfro, (he played Josh), is dead at age 25. Apparently, he'd struggled with drugs and alcohol for many years.

R.I.P. Josh. :-(

Bambi's and the Bumble

I'm putting this video in for my Ian, who (being British) is unfamiliar with the oddly animated, vaguely creepy American classic "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer" Christmas special that my generation went nuts for. (I'll admit, I still watch this thing whenever it's on TV...can't help it. I'm sentimental). When I took Ian to the Mall of America this year, he was puzzled by the Rudolph Christmas display...("What's with all the little Bambi's?")

So here is the Rudolph trailer, from way back in the day. A word of warning, at the end, the soundtrack goes all wonky and it's a bit startling. Someone on YouTube suggested that it was the sound of Bumble the Abominable Snowman taking out the sound crew. You decide.

A QUOTABLE YEAR

According to Fred R. Shapiro, the editor of the Yale Book of Quotations, these are some of the most memorable quotes of 2007:

Lauren Upton, the South Carolina contestant in the Miss Teen USA pageant, gave this long, rambling, cracked-out answer when asked why one-fifth of Americans are unable to locate the United States on a map:

"I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because some people out there in our nation don't have maps and I believe that our education like such as in South Africa and Iraq and everywhere like such as and I believe that they should our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., or should help South Africa and should help Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future for us."

Jesus, even I'm more coherent when I'm stoned, and that's saying something. Of course, in Miss Teen USA's case it's probably not the chronic--just sheer stupidity. After all, her generation is to blame for making Britney Spears a star. I weep for the future.

Here's a gem from Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's October speech at Columbia University: "In Iran we don't have homosexuals like in your country."

Right, dude. There are no homosexuals in Iran, and your women are perfectly happy forsaking their civil rights and veiling themselves from head to toe in the suffocating desert heat. Tell me another one, asshole.

Of course, there's the one from "shock jock" Don Imus about the "nappy-headed hos" of the Rutgers women's basketball team, which I'm not bothering to even type because it's so damn stupid. Also "shock jock"? WTF? People still use that term? That's so eighties. What's shocking about Don Imus? His fucked up hair? His wrinkled, acne scarred face? Gross, but not shocking.

"I don't recall." -- Former U.S. Attorney General Alberto Gonzales' repeated response to questioning at a congressional hearing about the firing of U.S. attorneys.

Subtext: "I got caught, and I'm counting Bush to get me out of this mess before I shit myself in terror. Also, it's not my fault."

"There's only three things he (Republican presidential candidate and former New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani) mentions in a sentence: a noun and a verb and 9/11." -- Sen. Joseph Biden, speaking at a Democratic presidential debate.

Heh. That one is pretty awesome. Reminds me of that South Park episode with the country singer (Toby Keith?) singing a song comprised entirely of the words "9/11".

"I'm not going to get into a name-calling match with somebody (Vice President Dick Cheney) who has a 9 percent approval rating." -- Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, a Democrat.

Word!

"(I have) a wide stance when going to the bathroom." -- Idaho Republican Sen. Larry Craig's explanation of why his foot touched that of an undercover policeman in a men's room.

A wide stance? WTF? Doesn't he realize that makes him sound even MORE gay? Come out of the closet already, Lare.

"I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy. I mean, that's a storybook, man." -- Biden describing rival Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama.

While I agree with Biden on Guiliani, he's painted himself in a corner on this one. The "first mainstream African American?" C'mon, everyone knows he wasn't the first. Philip Michael Thomas was.

"I think as far as the adverse impact on the nation around the world, this administration has been the worst in history." -- Former President Jimmy Carter in an interview in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette newspaper.

Well said, Jimmy.

And I just have to add a quote on my own here. This gem was vomited up by Whoopi Goldberg on The View. Goldberg had the gall to defend Michael Vick, that piece of shit football player from that who-gives-a-shit football team recently given a little tap on the wrist (only 24 months in jail, probably at a minimum security facility), for dogfighting. In doing so, she managed to insult African Americans, everyone in the south, and any decent person in possession of half a brain.

"You know from (Vick's) background this is not an unusual thing for where he comes from," said Goldberg. "There are certain things that are indicative to certain parts of our country."

Co-host Joy Behar seemed shocked at Goldberg's statements. "How about dog torture and dog murdering," Behar asked.

"Unfortunately it's part of the thing," Goldberg replied.

Behar continued to shake her head in disgust.

Goldberg said it seemed to her that it took a while for Vick to realize that the charges against him were serious. "It seemed like a light went off in his head when he realized that this was something the entire country really didn't appreciated (sic), didn't like," Goldberg said, referring to Vick's guilty plea.

Goldberg pointed out that Vick was raised in the South. "This is part of his cultural upbringing...this is a kid who comes from a culture when this is not questioned."

BULLSHIT BULLSHIT BULLSHIT. I have relatives all over the damn south, and none of them participate in dogfights. And it is sure as hell not a fucking African American thing, as she insinuates. Dogfighting is an abominable, assholish thing that only subhuman dickheads like Michael Vick do. Eat me, Whoopi Goldberg. Defending this putrid excuse for a human being is not okay. So, "a light went off in his head" when he realized that people "really didn't appreciate" him torturing and killing dogs (let alone his participation and facilitation of a barbaric and illegal "sport")? Great. A light went off in his head when he got caught. What an intelligent and sensitive person. Brings a tear to my eye, in fact.

Michael Vick should be rubbed up with raw meat and fed to a pack of rabid dogs. That is the only acceptable punishment. THAT would bring a tear to my eye.

A tear of fucking joy.

I am pretty good at picking out Christmas presents for other people, but when friends and family ask me what I'd like for Christmas (or my birthday, Arbor Day, Kwanzaa, whatever) I always draw a blank. What the hell do I want? Today, it finally came to me. Friends and relations, if you are looking for the perfect Christmas gift, look no further than this tasty bit of British eye candy (and enjoy some comedy while you're at it):



Ah, Jude. I never tire of gazing upon his fair visage.

Shut up. This is my Christmas wish list, not yours. And it isn't even a list--just one item, for Christ's sake--so that should make it easier for everyone. It's actually pretty simple. Jaunt on over to the U.K., yank Jude out from under Sienna Miller, or his kid's nanny, or Matt Damon, or whatever bit of crumpet he's currently sticking it in, stuff him in a box (don't forget to poke air holes in it! The box...not Jude), and ship him over to me. Don't worry about Next Day Air or whatever, Standard is fine. I can wait.

C'mon, pleeeeease???? I promise to feed him and to walk him every day and clean up his messes and keep him off the furniture.

Please?

And don't tell me to ask Santa. I know the fat bastard doesn't even exist.

YOU PINEAPPLE! YOU FUZZY COOTIE!

The State was the funniest American comedy show ever produced. It was fucking brilliant. I am mystified that this show is not out on DVD. (It was supposed to be released in October, but Paramount has pushed the release date back indefinitely, for no particular reason other than the fact that they're complete assholes). And yet Saturday Night Live continues to shit out their "Best of" crapola, now featuring actors that weren't even cast members (The Best of Alec Baldwin? WTF? Who went and started the rumor that he was even funny?) Thankfully, I've been able to find a few State clips on YouTube. This one--"Tenement"--is one of my favorites. Watch, enjoy, and pass it on. We must spread the holy gospel of The State, my children.

Two posts in the same day??

This is what happens when I'm bored at work. I thought of a list:

Songs that I never want to hear again, ever (but probably fucking will...)

1. Brown-Eyed Girl by Van Morrison

Enough already. I'm sick of this song, and it sucks that I seem to be the only one who's sick of it. I can't go into a bar without hearing it. And I mean any bar, anytime, anywhere. And if you pay attention, the lyrics are sickeningly cloying and a little creepy. (Again, am I the only one who realizes this? Apparently so.) Another sucky thing is that I can't hear it without thinking of that Julia Roberts movie Sleeping With the Enemy, because of the scene where she tries on hats with her new (gay) boyfriend and they dance around to this song. And yeah, the boyfriend in that movie is totally gay. Come on. Julia's character is married to that psychotic guy with the moustache who beats her like a circus monkey when she forgets to arrange the Jolly Green Giant canned peas in the cabinets with the labels facing front, the way he likes them. So she escapes to Iowa and meets this bearded guy who teaches drama at the local liberal arts college (red flag right there--or should I say pink flag?) who is watering his lawn and singing that "When You're a Jet" song from West Side Story (huge pink flag!) when she first meets him. And if that isn't enough, there is that scene where he makes her try on hats (GIANT pink flag) and if THAT isn't enough, there is a scene later on where he dresses her like a guy (GIANT sparkly pink flag, waved by Libarace's ghost). I rest my case. What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, that shitty Van Morrison song. Anyway, it sucks.

2. Love Shack by the B-52's

I like the B-52's, especially their first album. Dance This Mess Around? Awesome. Planet Claire? So fucking cool. Even their later stuff rocks. But this is their lamest song off of their only lame album, and of course, it's the only one of their songs that everyone seems to know, and (again) that everyone seems to like. This song has been played at every wedding reception I've attended since 1990. And, since I'm a single thirtysomething female, let's just say that's A LOT of fucking wedding receptions. I've had it. Play anything else. I'd even be willing to take Rock Lobster, their other overrated (though not nearly as over-played) song. And for my remaining single friends? Please, when and if you get married, I beg of you, DO NOT play this song at the reception. Let's start a new tradition: no fucking Love Shack.

3. Kiss by Prince

Man, do I hate this song. It sucks so hard, it blows. Prince--dude--what was with that stupid falsetto? To my recollection, it was the only time he busted it out. (Oh wait, there was that song, "Wanna Be Your Lover" which sucked almost as hard). And that video, with that outfit he was wearing. You remember, that gay Mexican bandit ensemble with the exposed midriff that looked like something Madonna rejected during her "Who's That Girl?" period. And the lyrics! "You don't have to watch Dynasty to have an attitude." What the hell does that even mean? The only people I knew who watched Dynasty were my friend Amanda's parents, and they didn't have "attitude," at least not the kind Prince was probably singing about. It is an eerie coincidence that this song was also prominently featured in Pretty Woman, another crappy Julia Roberts movie. Between that and Sleeping With the Enemy, it's hard to say which one is the crappier film. Let's just say that if Sleeping With the Enemy is the Vice President of crappy Julia Roberts movies, then Pretty Woman is the President. And I'll leave it at that.

4. Mickey by Toni Basil

I remember first hearing this song in 1982, and it sucked then. You know what really sucks? Hearing it in 2007, especially when it's grouped with other songs from that era--good songs like Tainted Love and Turning Japanese--in every damn Best of the Eighties CD compilation. Not that I (cough) would ever own anything as tacky as a Best of the Eighties CD compilation.

5. Walk Like An Egyptian by the Bangles

Did anyone actually like this song? It was like the worst of the worst of that era--a total rip-off of the Go-Go's We Got the Beat by a band that shot their wad with their first album and Going Down To Liverpool. Then Prince got a tiny boner for the lead singer, wrote Manic Monday for her, and it was all downhill from there. And by the way, the Go-Go's wrote their own songs. I'm just saying.

6. Everybody Have Fun Tonight by Wang Chung

Another example of a decent band who will only be remembered by the general public for the worst song they ever recorded. Remember Dance Hall Days? And To Live and Die in LA? Neither does anybody else, and those were good songs. It's tragic, really.

7. Brick House by The Commodores

Ever hear that saying "stacked like a brick shithouse?" It's a southern expression, used to describe a woman who is, well, stacked like a brick shithouse (I'm assuming that the south is the only place you can still see a brick shithouse. Well, the south and Khazakstan). Yes kids, a brick shithouse. Except they couldn't say "shithouse" on the radio in 1975, or whenever that song was recorded so they said "brick house." This is another one of those ditties played ad infinitum at wedding receptions, because nothing says everlasting love like a song about some chick stacked like "a brick (shit)house." How incredibly romantic.

When I sit around the house, I really sit around the house...

There's a photo of me in the current issue of CityPages. I look ugly, old and FAT. Tomorrow I am joining a yoga class and then buying one of those thingies to make my bike stationary so that this winter I will be able to pedal my ass down to a more managable size, cause this SUCKS. I am tired of being fat. I'm not obese, but I'd like my fucking jeans to fit again without my love handles/blubber hanging out for all the world to see. I know now that I will never get pregnant, because, (sorry to sound vain here....) (actually, no--I'm not sorry)--I NEVER want to be bigger than I am now. If I ever feel the need to swim upstream and spawn, I will do an Angelina Jolie and adopt a brat from some third world nation. Then I'll look like a saint AND be able to avoid wearing those ugly maternity outfits. My apologies to any and all men chomping at the bit to impregnate me. Guess you'll have to plant your seed somewhere else.

They love me in Berlin!

In honor of my favorite holiday, I thought I'd post this. Yes, it's another damn YouTube clip--the trailer for the scariest bad movie ever, Liquid Sky. Not for the faint of heart, this film is for hardcore bad movie buffs only. The funniest thing about Liquid Sky now is the way that film geeks are trying to label it an arthouse "classic." One movie site even proclaims it THE film that defined the eighties (???). Yes, kids. In the eighties we all dressed like retarded mimes and did bad performance art when we weren't having sex with corpses and getting dive-bombed by miniature flying saucers piloted by tiny aliens in search of heroin. Good times!



Happy Halloween, to you and yours!

Because I want to update my blog more often, I am posting. Because I am lazy and distracted and working today, it's going to be a quick one. And because my new addiction is YouTube, well...here you go. It's the video for The Streets, "Don't Mug Yourself," (one of my favorites). I discovered The Streets last year whilst browsing in Robot Love, a funky Uptown store with Japanese clothes and assorted kitschy gewgaws. The clerk was playing Original Pirate Material, and that's all it took. Suddenly, I was a Streets fan. This video is awesome...I never knew that Mick Skinner was such a cutie until I saw this. The photos on the CD don't do him justice--I expected him to be scruffier and a little more hip hop. Thankfully, that isn't the case.

Anyhoo, enjoy.

AHA!
Through the miracle of YouTube, I bring you Alan Partridge (Steve Coogan) singing an Abba medley. Insanely funny stuff.

(Thanks to Marcus for the YouTube tutorial).

STUFF I'VE BEEN READING AND WATCHING

Didn't do a whole hell of a lot this summer, aside from having altercations with crackwhores, spending time in airports (not unlike a certain senator--although I wasn't soliciting undercover officers for sex), getting drunk and/or stoned, and working, working, working. I've also done a bit of reading and TV watching, because--shit--what else am I gonna do in my free time besides update my blog and/or stare at my computer screen with increasing frustration while I try to get the last 50 pages of my novel written? Seriously, that wasn't a rhetorical question. What the hell else am I gonna do???

Some books I read:
Sal Mineo: His Life, Murder, and Mystery by H. Paul Jeffers


Still working on this one--I can't get enough of lurid hollywood bios of dead stars, even one as cheesey as this. I'm only a casual fan of Sal Mineo, and was surprised to learn that he actually had a career beyond Rebel Without A Cause. All the dirt in the book makes me want to watch it again to see if I can pick up on all the gay subtext supposedly buried in the relationship between Sal and James Dean's characters.

A Thousand Strokes of the Brush Before Bed by "Melissa P."


Ugh. Just....ugh. Contrived, conventional, and BORING. "Based on a true story" my ass. True stories are juicier than this. For a far superior read about a similar "sexually insatiable teen" (I hate even typing that. Such a cliche!) check out Innocents by Cathy Coote. No one's heard of it but me, of course.


History Lesson for Girls by Aurelie Sheehan


I ADORED this one. Definitely the best novel I've read all year. I reviewed it in the next 360, which is (supposed to be) hitting newsstands next week.

Some stuff I watched:
American Dreamz

Rented this on DVD recently, mostly because Hugh Grant was in it. Surprisingly good, surprisingly cynical too--which of course I loved. Cynical about America, cynical about Bush (Dennis Quaid plays a Bush-like idiot President), cynical about popular culture (including American Idol), cynical about pretty much everyone and everything. And the ending is fucking awesome.

Half Nelson

This one was amazing. I hadn't heard much about Ryan Gosling before, but he is brilliant in this (he plays one of those hip/inspirational teachers who really gets through to the kids...and who also happens to be a crack addict). Nothing about this movie is what you'd expect, and that's why it rocks. Even as a crackhead, Ryan Gosling is pretty fine. Even if he's not British.


I'm Alan Partridge

This is the summer I discovered the genius that is Steeve Coogan. I think I love him. I want to have sexytime with him and make him have liquid explosion. (NOTE: you have to imagine that last bit in a Borat voice, or it doesn't work). And I don't even care that (Coogan) had sex with Courtney Love in real life or that he's (allegedly) a cokehead. I find him oddly, insanely sexy and I'm not even embarrassed about it. Anyway, this show (and Steve, as Alan Partrige)? Fucking hilarious. The night I watched this DVD for the first time, I had a dream that I actually did have sexytime with Alan Partridge (not Steve, but Alan. He was even in full Alan makeup). And then he kicked me out of bed, which is oddly telling about the current state of my sex life.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME--and Shane, my Irish Twin, whose birthday is today!

In honor of my 34th birthday, (which is actually in 2 days...August 19th) here are some photos chronicling some random moments in my life. Please enjoy.



This is me as a toddler (Mini-Me!). Check out my rockin' David Cassidy hair! I was so with the times (this would have been approx. 1974). Gotta say though--the white shoes and black socks? Not my idea.



Here I am, age 5, at my grandmother's pool in Tulsa. Look how leggy I was even then! Also, is it creepy to say that I wish my stomach was still that flat? Probably.



That's my cousin Andrea rocking the Izod shirt, my sister Michelle is the one in braces, and that's me in the hideous striped ensemble. (Again, not my idea). This photo is dated 1982, so I would have been about 9 years old here. That's my uncle's dog Beau, who I adored. (R.I.P. Beau!) :-(



Fast forward 6 years...here I am at age 15, freshman year of high school. Dig the acid-washed jean jacket, the bubble-gum pink shades, the frosted lipstick. I couldn't have been more '80s if I'd tried.



Posing with a Budweiser Clydesdale in an undated photo (probably mid-20's here). Just throwing this one in to show how blonde I once was.



My 30th birthday party! This was at my friend Andre's house, who threw the shindig in my honor. Here I am with my friends Matt and Matt (or The Brothers Matt, as I like to call them). Notice how I'm letting them feel me up. What a hoochie mama!



Same party. My very drunk sister smashed chocolate cake in my face.



Again, same party. Me and my ex, who shall remain nameless. Yes, I used to (voluntarily) have sex with this man. And can you blame me? I mean, just look at the chemistry between us; the raw, unbridled PASSION I inspired in him. Wow. Also, his shirt is so gay, it's practically a blouse. There are but a handful of straight men who can pull off a floral print. He is not one of them. Also? I look fat here.



This is me now (well, about 6 months ago). A little older, a lot wiser. Also, not as fat. I clean up good, no?

The Bridges of Hennepin County...

...are complete crap, apparently.

And to add insult to injury, check this out.
Bush Offers Federal Help Restoring Fallen Bridge

Wasn't FEMA a federal agency? Christ, is there no limit to this administration's stupidity?

You know what Dubya, we got it. Don't worry your empty little head about it. Just stay in Washington. Or better yet, go back to Crawford.

Seriously, we got it covered.

SHIT PISS COCK-SUCKING ASSHOLE FUCK.

I am having one of the worst summers in recent memory. First my boyfriend dumps me. Then my grandfather dies. Then I get the front bumper of my car knocked completely off by a bleach-blonde crackhead who was driving the wrong way down a one way street. NOW I get fucked over by her insurance company (I'm as surprised as anyone that the bitch actually had insurance). Progressive Insurance (apparently the company of choice for loser crackhead whores) agent Chris Grubb (yeah, I used your name motherfucker), says that there is no evidence to suggest that the damage to my car was caused by his insured. Yeah. My fucking bumper fell off by itself. ASSHOLE. And this fucking whore (Leticia--yeah, a white girl named Leticia. I should have known how this would turn out) is saying that I rear ended her. And knocked off my whole front bumper. And then reported the claim to her insurance company because, you know, I have nothing better to do. I can't believe this HORSESHIT. When the hell is life going to stop shitting on me? I mean, I'm going to need some really good things to happen to me to make up for this. Like Jude Law showing up naked at my door with a can of whipped cream and a contract for a multi-million dollar book deal. I'll accept nothing less. Till then, look out crackhead. I'll get you, and your brokedown-looking drunk-ass Mexican boyfriend too.

Okay, but some good things have happened, and I don't mean to say that the bad totally cancels out the good. Marcus came up to see me earlier this month, which rocked. Marcus, Shane and I saw the Police at Xcel. THAT rocked. And we went to this kick ass T-shirt shop on Lyndale called Stroker Ace (it has a picture of Burt Reynolds's face on the sign! How could you not love that?) I bought Marcus a Stroker Ace T-shirt for his birthday. I think I was more excited about it than he was, but he did promise to wear it to the gym at least. More good things...Matthew is being nice to me. I'm making progress on my book. I've had six articles published in the last two months, one in a national magazine. So, yeah--maybe I shouldn't bitch. \

But still. Blonde crackhead bitch Leticia? Your ass is mine. Look out.

Two good things about this breakup---I've been going out all night with friends and getting the chance to act VERY immature (apparently, guys in bars like to be groped by drunk women. Who knew?). The second is that I've been getting tons more work done. Here is a piece I just wrote for the new issue of 360 newspaper. It's just a bit for one of those "Stuff that bugs me" columns, but I'm quite proud of it.

What Part of Shhhh! Don’t You Understand?

By Andie Ryan

As a freelance writer, I spend a lot of time in public libraries, researching story ideas and browsing newspaper archives on microfiche machines (yes, they still exist). I also frequently have my laptop in tow and, occasionally, I am able to find a quiet corner in the library to hunker down and do some writing.

Notice that I said “occasionally.”

It seems that the libraries of my youth, where silence was expected—and enforced—have gone the way of disco music (and I’m only 33). Over the last twenty years, libraries have become considerably noisier, and I find that the librarians and check-out clerks tend to look the other way. It is apparently now acceptable for young children to run rampant through the stacks, howling to one another and braying at their parents. The adult patrons are oftentimes just as bad, yakking away on cell phones and having loud conversations with one another, oblivious to the reproachful looks coming from those of us who are there to study, read, or even just surf the internet in peace.

This makes me sad, because I really love libraries. For me, as a writer and avid reader, it’s my version of church. Although I’m not a religious person, I see libraries as sacred and deserving of respect, reverence, and—most of all—silence.

So think of this the next time you visit your local library. And please, shut up!