W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> Moi, Toi, et VoI: February 2007

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Music Et Al

L'il JoJo brought in the Canary Mix 2, a nice collection of music that inspires. inspired. whatever. Anyway, it has some good shit on it, like The Kinks, some Wilco, and of course, The Church, which I now can't get out of my head.

Here's a little treat for y'all. I ran across this little gem while hunting down some Geico Caveman commercials to share with Martha...

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Kvetching Up.

So sorry to disappoint my faithful readers. I have been sick with The Plague for the past 5 days.

I have never been sick so much in all my life (except for that mono bout in eighth grade) as I have been this past year. I get a knock-'em-down cold/viral thingy about every 10 weeks at this point. Throw in some migraines, The Great Faint at the Eagles game, and a UTI to ring in the New Year (also enjoyed at an Eagles game) and I've probably been 100% up to snuff healthy for about 12 days over the last 365.

Not a good record.

And not that I know anything about this, but I really think this Jeff Garcia thing is a dumb idea speaking of.

But I digress.

Anyway, just checking in. My life is really quite boring right now. No major drama, no turmoil, no moves forward with the divorce or The Canary, nor any encounters with interesting wackos. Just lots of paperwork and NyQuil at the moment.

Oh! But I did order t shirts for The Canary and they are coming on Friday! Maybe I can make a fortune selling the logo - like Von Dutch or Paul Frank or something.

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Friday, February 23, 2007

Turkey Stand: Part Deux

Turkey Boy was fired yesterday. The rumors are wild and varied: they involve racial/sexual orientation epithets, a knife, a basement, a security guard, pieces of fruit, prescription drugs, and of course, turkey.

We will never know the whole story. We will never know the truth.

SFG tried calling Turkey Boy today to check in on him and his phone has been shut off. The mystery continues.

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Wednesday, February 21, 2007

A Lifetime Movie Original: Turkey Stand

Turkey Boy reports the following:

Yesterday Carlos punched Sherry in the face because Sherry said that The New Guy, who is a good-looking, rich Karate expert, wasn't going to do a good job slinging stuffing at the Turkey Stand at The Circus. Sherry is married to a cop, who now has put an unofficial hit on Carlos. Turkey Boy has to walk Carlos to his car at night because he's afraid for his safety.

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Thursday, February 15, 2007


I'm a little afraid to write much these days because The Lawyers are talking. And well, I'm just paranoid.

But even paranoiacs sometime have legitimate reasons to be paranoid.

If you need me, Molly the Cat and I are holed up at "Uncle SFG's" for the rest of the week. I'll be working on my taxes.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Heart Attack.

I am up to my elbows in chocolate glazed heart cakes this week. The Inky featured The Canary in their Valentine's Day Food Schmaltzfest on Thursday and since then we have been deluged with orders. Which is good. Which is absolutely great in fact.

This means a couple of evenings at The Canary by myself with a box of wine spent frosting these little fuckers and writing inscriptions on them. Oy! I will keep the wine scoffing to a minimum. Don't want to get too surly on those inscriptions.

I've made the conscious decision that I will no longer fret over the current state of my apartment. I still have not completed the unpacking, but it is possible for one to actually walk around now. And find stuff for the most part. I never had any intention of actually doing any cooking in this joint, so it's fine if all that stuff stays in boxes. Pictures aren't hung. Books aren't put away. Whatever. This is a transitory place to live while I'm in this transitional phase of my life. I'll move when my lease is up and hey! how easy it will be to pack. Phew, that feels better.

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Friday, February 09, 2007

Me: "So, we haven't worked together that much, but I'm hearing that you're spacing out all the time at work."

Whipping Boy: "Oh really?"

Me: "Yeah, you just. sorta. space. out."

Whipping Boy: "I can stop spacing out."

Wednesday, February 07, 2007


For lack of a better title.

Workworkwork. Murgmurgmurg.

Thank you to each and every one of you who've offered to help me out and make sure I'm okay. Clearly I'm erm, wicked stressed! right now and That Of Which Some of You Know About is exactly what I don't need right now. Thanks for cheering me on and assuring me that I am not a bitch nor am I crazy. Really I'm more pissed than anything else. Lesson learned!

Isn't that what life's all about anyway?

And thanks, SFG, for that copy of Coping With Difficult People. Ha! You're the best.

On the local news this evening, they were talking about some survey where 57% of women would give up sex for 15 months for a brand new wardrobe. I'm quite used to dressing sloppily and being covered in buttercream (as a work thing, not a sex thing, of course), so a new wardrobe? Baah! Boring! What say you, ladies?

Sunday, February 04, 2007

Stresses-moi? Reduxreduxredux.

I am seriously stressin'.

So much so that I simply cannot enjoy the Superbowl. (OK, totally kidding about that.) But really right now my chest is tight, my right arm hurts, I can't breathe. I think I'm having a mental heart attack.

Wholesale biz at The Canary has increased, but this month at The Circus has been Dead, D-E-A-D. Unfortunately, wholesale wasn't enough to make ends meet and I had to use my precious rent money to pay my people. FUN!

(Did I mention how fun this is?!)

On top of that, I had my first Lawyer Meeting on Friday. She was very cool, but firmly believes that it's only fair that I ask for more than what I'm currently asking for from Mr. X. which will certainly further complicate this proceeding. I guess a major chunk of me feels guilty for being The One Who Left. Like I need to pay some sort of penance for having the cajones to do what needed to be done in the relationship. Maybe I would feel more entitled if he had been the one to say he wanted out. Then I'd feel victimized and deserving. I don't know. It's starting to get messy.

I've asked SFG to score me some Haldol from his mom, but he thinks I'm kidding and pays me no heed.

I'm really not kidding. I may have a heart attack or psychotic break of some kind. Does anyone know any reliable smack dealers in Center City? Or at least a place where I can get a really good deal on a nice bottle of Scotch other than Camden? Someone? Anyone?

I'm feeling dizzy...

Thursday, February 01, 2007

28 Days Later.

I am surely one of the Top Ten Most Disorganized Human Beings on the Planet.

My handbag is a mess. The Canary papers are a mess. Let's not even talk about my apartment. "Where's my paring knife!?? Where did I put the salt? I just had the effing salt? Where's my checkbook? Where's my computer cord? Where's my phone? Where? Where? Where?!" is frequently heard at The Canary up to 647 times a day.

It's embarrassing really.

Let's put it this way: I can't even keep my internal calendar straight. Even though I am on the pill and know exactly when I will get my period, I still can never ever remember to have a tampon handy. So invariably whenever it happens, I am (ha ha) caught with my pants down! Which means I must trot on over to the CVS and buy a brand new box of tampons every month. Sometimes twice a month because I'll leave the box I just bought somewhere and be screwed four hours later. Sigh.

When I moved I discovered that I had accumulated quite a stash of tampons. I counted, and I am not exaggerating because I never exaggerate, 162 slender regulars throughout the various boxes, dresser drawers, satchels, shoe boxes, and kitchen cabinets in my apartment. I am set until perimenopause. As long as I never walk out the door.