One final note

Yeah, I broke my own rule. But I've got some thank-you's in order.



Thank you, Travioli, for the best amazon purchases and subsequent email pen-pal friendship a girl could have.



Thank you, Two G Dred, for reconnecting me with jazz, rap, and all the soul goodies from my babyhood. If I could be that little kid talking to the adult me? That's what it feels like. Tania's got something solid with you. True spirits will always find each other.



Thank you, JWe, for waking me up, shaking me to my core, and making me examine the love, the sorrow, and all inbetween from 1976 to now. It's not just the ice, it's the person that chooses the sport. I was losing my love, but you handed me back to me. My heart beats in my chest once again. Eternal gratefulness to you. Rest that foot for Nationals!



Thank you, all my readers, for keeping up with me thru this here blog and informing me of your comings and goings. I appreciate the cards (email and snail mail), the mp3's, the cds, the phone calls, the jokes, the silly cartoons, the commentary (good and bad), the whacked out opinions, and anything else you may throw in my digital kitchen sink!



Tonight will not be the same without Dick Clark, but I'm willing to see Regis either soar above the shadow of Mr. Bandstand or sink horribly like that time David Letterman did the Oscars.



2005 will certainly be different.

See you in '05

Well, kiddies, the spirit just ain't here this year.



I won't be back until 2005 is here.



D'angelo, Dexter, not even G Dred can help me. I just don't feel the holidays this year. And former coworkers are doing much better than I am. I just found out money does go to money--to the tune of half my education and double her former salary. That's roughly 70K. And me? Puhhhlease, I'm tired of the payouts. Tired. I work in order to pay other people. I could barely write out Christmas cards this year, the acid burning in my stomach is just too much.



So, to keep my sanity from folding sideways like a crooked table, I won't be blogging about anything until January 2005.



Don't even bother to click, because I ain't writing!



Ciao, meow, and I'm out.



Maybe I'll hi-five in '05?



I've got doubts...

Armageddon's NOT here?

Well, you wouldn't know it from last night's weather report. Snow, slime, and hell was supposed to erupt and we were all supposed to die in a vat of oversized salt purchased at Home Depot.



THESE WEATHER/NEWSCASTERS/METEOROLOGISTS CAN GO SUCK MY ASS.



Where else do you make tons of money, have a hair and makeup team, a teleprompter, a scriptwriter, a green room, and about 3 hours worth of work everyday to lie outrageously to the public? (No offense, Mr. President.)



How do I get that job? In fact how do I get any job that doesn't ride me like friggin' Seabiscuit for taking a few days off? Once again, the SLOB who will remain nameless has caused great problems. I have also heard from a very reliable source that he is pissing off almost every guy in the mailroom--and those guys don't mess around--and they are about to explode. My theory, confirmed this past weekend with one of the newer hires, is that the SLOB has no power at home. He is hen-pecked within an inch of his life, and frankly is damn lucky to have found a woman who'd have him as a spouse, so he tries to flex whatever flabby muscle he can afford at work, his brilliant domain. He reminds me of a security guard in the mall--essentially, he's a toy cop in a suit, instead of navy blue uniform. The only security guard I remember who had any fun was a guy named Joe Lopez, and he worked at Alexander's back in the fall of 1986. He was Dawn's ex-boyfriend, but we got along so well I kept him in my life even after she disappeared. He, unlike the SLOB, actually knew how to tweak situations to get humor and solid work out of people. He made more friends than enemies, and that was a wonder to see. He had a knack for talking to anyone, anytime, anywhere.



Example: a real snowstorm hit in January 1987. He took orange stickers and placed them on the bags of incoming people who had not bought anything wintery (gloves, hats, scarves.) He tipped off other employees in the store via walkie-talkie to descend on them. Some of them actually bought new things, because they were shocked to seemingly have Saks 5th Ave. service in Alexanders! Another time, he asked passersby how many guys had the name "Joe". That was funny. He was so likeable it actually was shocking when he caught a shoplifter. That's when he went "Commando" on their asses. Awesome to watch. I loved watching him, he was just so damn good. He later went to a cushy Wall Street job, and was there the day black Monday happened later that year. He was the only security guard to get a huge party and a truckload of gifts when he quit. They were very, very unhappy to see him go. I don't think I'll be able to say the same for the SLOB. Joe married a lovely girl named Caroline. He was also the DJ at my graduation party. The SLOB doesn't have a picture of his wife anywhere, he probably sees enough of her at home.



God, I dread going outside. But, I must. It's off to the gym for me.

Deer Santa

hello



this is dexter.



Beehold my deer santa letter.



Deer Santa:



I have ben gud all yeer. I have not attakt that tree, eether. It's there and big and green, but I have left it alone. That takes streength even frum an honerary panther like me. (hss hss hss i'm so funnee) Muffin got a few whakks, but she deeserves it: she tuk my spot on the window and I cant see my pidgjons at all.



I am gratefull for my two-legger and would like her to make moor stake for us. 9 Lives does get boreen. What I reely want, Santa, is a batch of new catnip toys and a pat on my head from Hallee Bery. I didn't reely like Gothikka, but Catwoman was ok. If you cud get her to visit with thoze catnip toys? I'd purr for the rest of my life. Im not eeven goeen to ask for sooshi or yarn like I did last yeer. Just Hallee and a new mouse.



If yoo've got time, of corse. I kno you are bizzy rite now with toys and theengs.



Thank you for reeding this! Emayl and bloggs are fun.



love



dexter

Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells

Jingle all the...you get the idea.



I wish my tree did. The lack of proper branches up top has left my star in a precarious position. Sadly, it's leaning towards one side. I'm going to have to take string or twine or something Kashi would eat and wrap up two or three of those branches to get the star to stand up. The lights are on, but I have no hooks for the ornaments. I just ain't feeling Christmas-y this year, kiddies. Tonight I'll be at Connolly's after work, hoisting a glass to silliness and cheer (sigh), and tomorrow is the Christmas party I've convinced all the "underlings" to attend. No one, and I mean NO ONE, wants to go to this thing. Why, I don't know. I say free food tastes better. I also say that my black sweater and pants would look nicer if Muffin hadn't sat on them, but that's just her way. Cats say "I Love You" by sitting on your clothes. Or maybe they just say "Screw it. It's warm."



10 days to go. Macy's is a zoo, and I'm not impressed with Rock Center's tree this year. It's a shorty: only 72 feet. The first year I was there it was the highest ever for that decade: 96 feet. I even played Snoopy last night and nothing. What's gotten into me? Blah, humbug. Maybe if Linus could quote scripture to me with a blue blanket, would all be right in my world? I wonder.



All I can say is I live for Starbucks's Peppermint Mocha. It's heavenly. What's a holiday without proper beverages? Even Huey, my favorite comic strip character, is struggling to find purpose this year. Jazmine is back, and he's telling her Santa is a fugitive stuck in a Hungarian jail. Gotta love that Huey. So political for a 10 year old. Good thing he'll always be 10. When I was 10, my Atari 2600 was what I lived for. Q-Bert was the best game ever. Can't say I understand the playstation and XBox mania. My new tv and answering machine have made nicey-nicey with each other. Now I can go from tons of videos to tons of DVD's. I've made the switch. Lucky me.



Why am I so Grinchy? I just can't shake it. Ugh, and I need to buy scotch tape. I have to get those gifts out in the mail. Maybe I should buy a Bratz doll for myself.



Feh.

Not quite so Christmas-y

Ok, so the tree is up. It's tall, and filled with cats, sap, and all those good things. Except water, so I will pour some now.



Be right back...



Wow. More sap on my hands. Nice. And I tried to go to sleep earlier, but the huge dinner I had just wasn't cutting it, so I got up and watched this metalheads show on VH1. Funny!



Tomorrow consists of grocery shopping, the post office, laundry, and more ridiculous emails from various folk (wink, wink RD). Particularly these weird Christmas thingies.



They're so weird I can't do much except delete them. Now someone's instant messaging me. I think it's Mr. Comedy with the green eyes...so cute he is!

I remember it like it was yesterday

Wow--24 years ago we did not have John Lennon anymore. And it snowed, too. Just like it looks right now.



My CRM meetings went well, and now the roll-out. All is good. Shout-outs to J, Nancy and Mr. Comedy! As for Avi and Eshon in the mailroom, you guys cracked me up yesterday. That Christmas party is going to be fun, fun, fun.



I'm staying home the rest of today, and fighting the sniffles. Oh, RD? The name of that singer is Samuelle. I sent you the email. I think it's the dust. My couch is still scaring the hell outta me, and Pimpin' Boy is in there, too.



Yikes! Tomorrow my Christmas tree is arriving!!!! Oh, god--lights, tinsel, Kashi eating everything. Good God, I'm afraid.

Back in the swing of things

Like, wow. It's still raining, but not in my heart. Yes, I've jumped back into the dating pool with both feet. I've just decided I need to get out there, and things are looking up. Or maybe it's all a delusion. RD has no faith in me, but that's just his way.



New people and the allure of the Christmas season is kind of strange, but I feel like I got a jump on my January. New Year's resolutions are actually being worked on now. I've joined the gym to conquer the chunk I call my hips, I've cut the Jessica Simpson messy hair, I'm seeing yet another doctor to conquer the hormonal hell, trying to sleep more, and basically being thankful for the new people in my office. These are good hires, thank god. If I start now, January won't be the tip of the mountain from which I'll fall. Change is inevitable and change is good.



Yes, if you're too open-minded your brains will fall out, but there's also that sense of just taking a chance. One step, one day, one moment at a time, and that's all it takes. Maybe it's not all a conspiracy to bite my head off. Maybe it could be something for me to look at from a different angle. Acting, not reacting? Wow, there's a thought.

The True face of NY

Can be found in the bins of "Dear Santa" letters inside Manhattan's main post office. I dare you to pick some up and not get a catch in your throat. Are we supposed to honesty believe a six-year-old wants a winter coat instead of a toy?



What really kills me is the parents write, too. The two winning letters I chose yesterday were Jocelyn and Rosaria. Jocelyn wants an easy bake oven (they're microwaves now, I think), and Rosie wants a Bratz doll. Off to Toys R Us I go. I had enough icky and almost-not Christmases to know toys are much better than wondering if the gas bill is going to be paid. I was heartened to see the long line when I went in: lots of New Yorkers (and a few tourists I learned) are out there willing to pitch in. It also makes me think of a few things...



With everything being so expensive in NY as it is thanks to Bloomberg the asshole and George "I'll Bring Back the Death Penalty" Pataki, why is the sales tax on clothes still here? People (particularly non-yuppies) aren't going to walk around naked when it hits 20 degrees come January. Albany's soaking everyone, but particularly those in need. Yes, I can be a cold-hearted bitch like the rest of 'em and say "Fuck these people, they're welfare queens," but from the 30 or so letters I read yesterday? Some of 'em are just folks who are down on their luck. Now, I know someone--who's probably just purchased her seventh DVD player on my tax dollars--definitely fits the description of "welfare queen" to a T. Thankfully, I didn't see her kids writing in those bins, and I know all their names.



So, this is my thought of the day: money is like love. You'll never get any back if you don't give any away. Maybe that's a lesson both Albany and Dawn need to learn. There is accountability in the universe as well as karma. It will come back and zap you in the ass.



But never mind, I'm going to have a ball when I go into Toys R Us.



(This post was modified since RD can't see anything he doesn't understand. Is it good enough now????)

Thank you Maria and Jenifer

That would be the two principals who put on a fine Nutcracker this evening. Maria is divine at 5 ft. 7 and silent as she leaps like Kashi chasing a string. The men matched, if not outshined, the women this evening. Many newbies applauded in strange spots, but it's nice to know a new generation is watching this ballet. This marks my 25th year. A quarter of a century with pink, purple, and mint green! My god, I never tire of it.



Adventures at work include music and more music. My first workout at the company gym went well, my doctor will be happy to hear. I haven't been eating food lately, I've been eating music. Between J next to me, and Greg and RJ in the mailroom, I've been inundated with really great stuff. Right now, I'm playing Res--this sorta cool black chick that's halfway between reggae and rock. Different is the word. Catchy and fresh. I dig it.



As for what I thought was a typical psoriasis breakout, it's actually infectious rosacea. Translation? My immune system's gone batty again. Oh well, off to the drug store tomorrow to get yet another cortisone cream.



Bernard Wright's Who Do You Love? is blasting right now. For those of you that don't know, he's Roberta Flack's son and this has been out of print since 1987. Very rare and very fine.



The hunt for the christmas tree begins next week when RD is feeling better. That's good, too, because the corner drugstore has a nice bottle of Jontue I'm thinking of purchasing.



(RD will keel when he reads this. LMAO!!!)