A Site of Beef by Ann-S-Thesia
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10/29/2000 - 11/04/2000
11/05/2000 - 11/11/2000
11/12/2000 - 11/18/2000
11/19/2000 - 11/25/2000
11/26/2000 - 12/02/2000
12/03/2000 - 12/09/2000
12/10/2000 - 12/16/2000
12/17/2000 - 12/23/2000
12/24/2000 - 12/30/2000
12/31/2000 - 01/06/2001
01/07/2001 - 01/13/2001
01/14/2001 - 01/20/2001
01/21/2001 - 01/27/2001
01/28/2001 - 02/03/2001
02/04/2001 - 02/10/2001
02/11/2001 - 02/17/2001
02/18/2001 - 02/24/2001
02/25/2001 - 03/03/2001
03/04/2001 - 03/10/2001
03/11/2001 - 03/17/2001
03/18/2001 - 03/24/2001
03/25/2001 - 03/31/2001
04/01/2001 - 04/07/2001
04/08/2001 - 04/14/2001
04/15/2001 - 04/21/2001
04/22/2001 - 04/28/2001
04/29/2001 - 05/05/2001
05/06/2001 - 05/12/2001
05/13/2001 - 05/19/2001
05/20/2001 - 05/26/2001
05/27/2001 - 06/02/2001
06/03/2001 - 06/09/2001
06/10/2001 - 06/16/2001
06/17/2001 - 06/23/2001
06/24/2001 - 06/30/2001
07/01/2001 - 07/07/2001
07/08/2001 - 07/14/2001
07/15/2001 - 07/21/2001
07/22/2001 - 07/28/2001
07/29/2001 - 08/04/2001
08/05/2001 - 08/11/2001
08/12/2001 - 08/18/2001
08/19/2001 - 08/25/2001
08/26/2001 - 09/01/2001
09/02/2001 - 09/08/2001
09/09/2001 - 09/15/2001
09/16/2001 - 09/22/2001
09/23/2001 - 09/29/2001
09/30/2001 - 10/06/2001
10/14/2001 - 10/20/2001
10/21/2001 - 10/27/2001
10/28/2001 - 11/03/2001
11/04/2001 - 11/10/2001
11/11/2001 - 11/17/2001
11/18/2001 - 11/24/2001
11/25/2001 - 12/01/2001
12/02/2001 - 12/08/2001
12/09/2001 - 12/15/2001
12/16/2001 - 12/22/2001
Saturday, December 09, 2000
Dream: I was with some people...I can't remember exactly who they were, perhaps Stan, Tim, my mom or a combination thereof. We were visiting a friend of my mom's, Delores, who lives in Milwaukee (here's a real life coincidence....Tim used to live on the same block of the 3200 block of Wisconsin Avenue when he lived in Milwaukee as my mom's friend did, if not the same exact apartment complex. How weird is that?) In real life, when my mom and I would visit my grandmother in Racine, we would take the bus to Milwaukee to go visit Delores. We always had to get back to the bus depot before the last bus for the night left for Racine. I think I remembered some of this in my dream, because we were visiting Delores (but I don't think my mom was with us...I'm pretty sure it was just Stan, Tim and I). We had to call to make a bus reservation to get back (but were we going to Racine or Madison?), but no one answered the phone. So we were stuck in Milwaukee--don't ask me why Stan wasn't driving. I was concerned that I hadn't brought my contact lens supplies and I wouldn't have a place to store them overnight. Stan or Tim were improvising some system for their own contacts, so I decided it was OK if we stayed. We were in a kitchen, trying to scrounge up some vessels for lenses, and the appliances were old and arranged haphazzard around the room, jutting out in strange places. They were also dirty with sharp edges sticking out. It was sort of freaky.
More dream...sort of: In real life, I was lying in bed late today listening to "Whadya Know?" on the radio, but I was sleeping and not wholly conscious. Somehow, in this surreal half asleep, half awake state, Michael Feldman became Stan. In real life, The Whadya Know team was doing their show from Savannah, Georgia, and the guest on the show was Lady Chablis (the wonderfully delightful transvestite who was in the movie "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil," which took place in Savannah). Michael Feldman, or Stan, was interviewing Lady Chablis, and in my strange unconscious state I was getting insanely jealous!
You know...there's something about the tone of Michael Feldman's voice that sort of sounds like Stan's...except Michael talks much more fast with a slight (well, maybe not so slight) Wisconsin accent. Stan has no accent...doesn't sound as rushed when he talks.
More real life weirdness:
Stan's adopted sister found her bio mom about 8 years ago or so. She just recently located her bio dad. Her bio mom lives in northeastern Iowa. Her bio dad lives in a northern Chicago suburb, hence, Stan and I live halfway between them. That's weird, I mean of all the places Stan and I could have ended up (we wanted to live on the west coast...didn't work out), and of all the places his sister's bio parents could have ended up living...
And although we don't know where on earth Stan's bio father is, we do know his bio mother and his half sister. Before we found out, however, Stan was searching through an intermediary from the Colorado Court System, who eventually located her. A comment was made regarding certain situations (that I can't get into regarding Stan's bio mom's family...has nothing to do with Stan) about being able to meet his mother which made me jump to the random conclusion that she lived in Rhode Island. Nothing was said that would give that away in terms of geographical information or anything. Just a certain comment that made me think, "Oh, sounds like she lives in a very Catholic state...like....Rhode Island or something." (I used to live in Massachusetts when I was around 6 and 7, very close to Rhode Island...in fact, my dad has/had relatives in Rhode Island) Well, guess where it is where she lives? Yup. Rhode Island. Either I am very in tune with certain legalities of the various states which made me arrive at an EDUCATED conclusion, or I am psychic.
Friday, December 08, 2000
20 years ago was a Monday. I was 19, living at my parent's and going to college. I had class early the next day...I think it was the most useless course I ever took...Interior Design or something. I don't think I was on finals week yet. It was around 10 pm MST. I went to bed. The phone rang soon afterward...I hadn't yet fallen asleep. My mom answered. I could tell the topic was serious, but I could also tell that she was talking to a friend of mine. I knew something was wrong when she woke me up to tell me. Even though my mom was from another generation, I suspect she felt sad and shocked as well.
It's funny how it's a lot harder to feel emotional when you're younger when the subject of the sadness is someone other than yourself. It's also strange when you're older how easy it is to feel sadness for someone you never even met, yet remain relatively unaffected about the sadness in your own life.
Went to Milw. today to pick up paintings from an invitational show I had participated in during the fall called "Metally Disturbed." Peg, who was holding my paintings because the building that housed the gallery took away the storage space (pthththththtttt) didn't wake up when we knocked, so we decided to go out to eat and come back later. Had some really delicious Indian food at a place called Maharajah's on Brady Street. I kind of like that neighborhood...it's sort of like Madison's Willy Street. If I lived in Milw., I'd probably live around there. After we got my paintings, we decided to go to the Domes and warm up. (see picture above...don't they have the most absurdly dated mid-century modern design? I love it!) We've been there several times before. There's three domes, one arid, one tropical, and the other a rotating display. Unfortunately, the rotating dome (the dome doesn't rotate...the content changes, in case you're picturing this large geodessic structure spinning in the Milwaukee skyline) had a hideous faux-Seuss Whoville display. There was no plant matter except for potted poinsettas and an overly-decorated holiday tree with ornaments the size of garden gazing balls. As Tim likes to say in a Peter Lorre voice, "It was most heeeeedeous!" I wanted plants and flowers, dammit! Not a miniaturized Hollywood soundstage! But I enjoyed the other two domes and tried out my digicamera taking pics. More to come later.
20 years ago tonight...who remembers? Where were you when....
Thursday, December 07, 2000
Dreams: I was back in a high school sort of setting, but was the age I am now. I had taken on some kind of babysitting job, but the child I was supposed to babysit didn't show up, so I just got to hang out at my own house, read rock and roll magazines and get paid anyway. Then there were some guys I knew in high school who were there and they were complaining that the house was dusty and then a baby starts crying in the other room, and I'm frustrated because I can't hang out anymore and have to start tending to the bawling baby.
Then I had to go count ballots or something and was putting on a really sexy dress and showing my cleavage to do it (don't ask...it was a dream).
Then I was driving by an old house that was being torn down, but the front and back were still standing. It was a huge house, and there were a bunch of trees that were crumblng down around it too, forming a house shape. There was a bunch of debris in the back yard, and I was afraid as I passed by that some of the debris would hit me.
Wednesday, December 06, 2000
Funny you should ask about new dings, Suzanna, I just put out a bunch of font characters...er, make that a font of characters. A font, "Characters."
I know. You're wondering why we call Plato "The Pappit." Dunno. Just happened. It's sort of a hybrid word...crossed between the word "puppet" (he reminds me of a puppet, like "Randy" from Pee Wee's Playhouse...actually, he reminds me of Pee Wee too), the panting and smacking noises he makes (hence, Panty Boy), the padding noise he makes with his paws....just sort of fits him. When we refer to the dogs in the third person, we say "The Pug" in reference to Hieronymus. But "The Boston Terrier" takes too long and sounds so formal. So we just call him "The Pappit."
OK, maybe I shouldn't think about things like this, but why even put the dang keyword "panty" in it. If you want crotch shots, search for crotch shots, fer crying out loud....why have the panty blocking the way? I can just picture some prude nerd searching for panty crotch shots...too scared to search for the real thing without the protective panty...then he ends up at my site, like Plato's page or something (who knows....).
Oh hey, I'm right! It was Plato's page! Under "pet names" a couple of his names Panty Boy and Crotch Pappit or Crotch Barker, (What, you *don't* call your animal strange names?) and then below it talks about him getting shots of medicine at the vet's.
I used to have a different counter on the rest of my eyebalm.com domain than I do on this blog...just to keep things separate. It used to give me good stats. Then something went weird in the counter's layout about a month ago so that I couldn't figure out what search page certain referrers came from. It gave me a list of key words, but I couldn't click on the keywords and then find the search page. I got really frustrated today because someone searched for the words "panty crotch shots" and ended up at my eyebalm site. I have no idea what page they found, or why the search engine would bring up my site. Dang. Now I can't enter it on Disturbing Search Requests.
I can't remember that much of my dream, other than I was looking at my digital camera a lot and trying to figure it out, and someone was telling me that I wouldn't be able to use all the megapixels, and that realistically I'd only be able to use half of the megapixels. (??!?!?) Other than the megapixel mumbo jumbo, it was pretty realistic, being that I got a digital camera a week ago and am starting to play around with it now. Ironic, around Halloween we invested in a four pack of film. Ooops. Last night I was showing it to Stan, showing him all the camera's orifaces and knobs and he takes a look at the CF card and amazes about the fact that you won't have to worry about exposing it to light. It's so cool!!!!
Tuesday, December 05, 2000
Just added a new feature of a Past Eye-Con Gallery. And a reminder to everyone to submit their face to be eyeconified! See the left panel for details.
I haaaaate these dreams! I was back in school...I don't know if it was undergrad or grad school, but it seemed more like the painting studio at Colorado State. I was in my painting studio and noticed that I was all out of various colors of gold metallic paint. I was debating walking over to the student bookstore to buy some, but it was cold out and want to walk around a lot. I was debating whether to go to one of my academic classes, one that was only held two days a week that I'd been skipping for a several weeks. I thought that maybe because I was skipping it, they'd already dropped me and I'd have nothing to worry about, but then I was worried that maybe it wasn't automatic and I'd end up with an F. That is so weird...if I ever took a class I knew I couldn't deal with, I dropped it immediately...I didn't just skip it and "hope" they'd drop me from the rosters, because I knew it didn't work that way...one has to drop onesself, or else one DOES get an F! I hate those college anxiety dreams! I think in this dream I only had a semester to go before I graduated, but I had to take two academic classes in that semester! I also never did that....save up all my academics for the end. I got rid of them as fast as I could.
Monday, December 04, 2000
I think today I have finally gotten over any crush I had on a third party. It's over. Unrequited love...over. Done. No more. I'm old and tired, and Stan's enough for me. Anyway, I'm pissed at this co-project we're working on. They sit on it for a year and then have to have it out really soon when I can't devote my time to anymore pro bono. It's a over. A long, long cycle has come to an end. I feel kind of sad. I don't even know if he knew how I once felt about him. Never will now.
Aaaaarrrgggh. I found a typo in this blog where I should have known better. I used *you're* when I should have used *your*. I know better...just typoed it. I am so embarrassed.
By the end of the Gunsmoke marathon last night I was doing a pretty mean Festus immitation. It was frightening. Now I have two teeveeland characters I can immitate quite well...Festus and Edith Bunker (Dingbat!). Be very afraid. Stan used to do a Nixon immitation and shake his head so that his cheeks shook. One time he did it and it was one of the first times I ever saw him do it and I laughed so hard that I was in pain.
Remember a show back in the early 70s that starred Rich Little and a bunch of other people who immitated celebs and politicians? I forgot what it was called. That show influenced me a lot I think. I was always immitating people as long as I can remember. But nothing can beat my Festus or Edith impressions.
Now I'm going to go and shower many days of sickness off of me. I think I can finally stand up for a few minutes straight. I'm going to pick up my new contact and glasses lenses today. Whoopeee!!! By the time this day is over, I won't recognize myself.
Weird dream about having to vote again on very strange ballots that looked like coupons. Then I was watching a diagram of what was supposed to be my blood pressure, but it looked like my reproductive system.
Sunday, December 03, 2000
When I was a kid, I was afraid of dogs. Now that I'm an adult, I love dogs and I'm afraid of kids.
Grrr. Just plain grumpy and curmudgeonly and all around pissy today. I wish Stan could be as much of a curmudgeon as I am during the holidays. For some reason he gets into it for the sake of not letting his moms down...I don't. "Well, if you had a family, you'd understand," he said last year...I don't know what that's supposed to mean...I have as many "parents" as he does...a mom and a dad. Stan has two moms, biological and adopted...his adopted dad passed away four years ago. He was honest with his parents many years ago when he told them he wasn't a Christian. I never in so many words ever said such a thing to my parents, mainly because religion is irrelevant in my life and how could one be considered "Catholic" just because one is confirmed at age 13 before one is able to speak up and physically rebel against having it happen to them? I suspect my mom knows I do not consider myself Catholic, in fact, I don't think she considers herself one either, but I am not sure.
My mom was raised without religion, something I greatly envy. How wonderful it must have been to get up on a Sunday morning as a kid and eat breakfast and read the newspaper and just hang out and do nothing all day with your father, a father who didn't demand you go to church before you even ate anything. For some reason I will never understand, my mom felt she needed some sort of religion when she got to be a teenager or in her 20s. I guess at that time, most of her friends went to church, and she didn't. So she wanted to fit in. Then she met my dad. Mr. Jesuit-schooled Boston College. When I was growing up, she usually took my dad's side when it came to going to church. She hadn't matured and realized the hypocrisy and pettiness of much of it. I had to feign illness a lot to get out of going. No one was "sick" more on Sunday mornings than I was. Having talked to her not so long ago, she admitted to knowing I wasn't really ill. She did something really cool for me when I had to (thanks to my dad) get confirmed. She got me out final day of confirmation class early by telling the nuns or whoever were in charge that I had to leave early for an orthodontist appointment. On a Saturday afternoon. Uh huh. The nuns were so naive they bought it. I'm really glad she did that...it was so incredibly torturous for a 13-year old girl who had a rebel soul. Now my mom uses church like sex. She goes to keep my dad happy; when he's a jerk, she doesn't go. Many times I've called her up on a Sunday morning and she's snickered, "Your dad's in church. I didn't go. I told him I had a cold. But I'm OK, I just didn't want to go because he was being so petty about hiring someone to get the sidewalk fixed..." or somesuch.
When I was a teenager I started working as a babysitter (crap for pay) on Sunday mornings at a Methodist church several blocks from where we lived, so that helped me get out of going quite a bit in high school and early college. My mom would comment that it was too bad that the Catholic church didn't have such a service there so I could work there instead. Can you imagine? If the Methodists had dirt wages, the Catholics would expect you to PAY to babysit. Then one time when I was in my early 20s my dad confronted me about the fact that he was worried about my eternal salvation. What the? Worry about the way you verbally abused me as a kid, worry about the fact you were a stingy skinflint who'd rather give money to nameless missions in the name of Catholicism rather than your own struggling family, worry about the fact that you contributed to my dislike of religion for the rest of my life, but don't worry about MY eternal salvation. You better start worrying about your own.
I sure wish I knew Tim back then...I wouldn't feel like my parents (or at least my dad) were such religious freaks...I'd know there was a gene, a Catholic gene (fortunately I inherited my maternal grandparent's areligous gene) since Tim's mom has it--and how. So many of the stories we share are identical, it's scary. Imagine being on vacation, but having to go to a strange church on Sunday, or not being able to eat anything before you go to church because it will interfere with the holy sacrament. This behavior is disturbing and irrational, and has nothing to do with living a life as a moral person and doing good. It's just bullshit, and irrelevant to the true mission of the religion's primary intent of doing unto others.
I wouldn't necessarily consider myself an atheist. I used to watch The Atheist Forum on cable tv before Madelynn Murray O'Hare (sp?) disappeared. They made excellent points, but sometimes I wonder if they had any fun. They poo pooed everything including astrology, ouija boards, and general supernatural unexplained weirdness. I don't know...that's a little severe for me...almost like a cult itself. Not EVERYTHING can be explained by science, not everything has a rational explanation, at least not yet. That's not to say that someday there won't be one. Science obviously didn't play any part in why I turned out the way I did, I am neither a product of nature nor nurture. I am the wild card, the lost zygote, the unAnnticipated outcome.
There were a couple other cool things my mom did for me when I was young besides getting me out of that final day of confirmation class. When I was about eleven and sick with a bad sore throat and cold, she bought me some Mad magazines so I could have something to read in bed. My mom got me turned on to Mad Magazine! And when I was in high school and wanted to get Rolling Stones tickets but they went on sale when I had classes, she stood in line for me! That's pretty darn cool! As far as remembering cool things my dad did for me...I'm still thinking...
Copyright 1996-2001 Ann Stretton. All Rights Reserved. No part of this web log may be copied or reproduced, however text may be quoted if a link is given in return. Permission is not given under any circumstances to use any of the graphics or art on this site, however If you ask first, I may grant permission at my discretion. Please check the link above to my Ann-S-Thesia site for web graphics if that is what you need.