thorvalson.net : babble ether

WHOO-HOO!

I'm sorry, but I just had to exclaim my excitement at the sight - finally, they showed a shot on the screen - of thousands of protesters gathered outside the RNC. What I'd give to be camping on those sidewalks right now. Is it just me, or did Laura Bush look like her head was about to go all berserko Excorsisty up there? The red, flame-like background didn't help much. I was totally waiting for...I don't know. The hell scene from "South Park: The Movie." Couldn't you just see the little Saddam Hussein puppet come popping out of her head? "My husband didn't want to go to war." Oooooohhhhhh....... Don't get me started.

"yeah, art may imitate life - but life imitates TV" - ani d

What?Who?Where?Huh?

BLEAH. What a crazy week. Work, Maddie, work, work... Thankfully my vacationing co-worker has returned and this week won't be quite so bad (theoretically, of course). Hey-la, hey-la, my boyfriend's back; I dumped a close friend of eleven years; missed my niece's birthday party (bad Aunt Stephy, bad - but I'm going there tomorrow instead so pttthhpttpt); and am trying desperately to find someone to work for me this Sunday so Greg and I can go out of town. I was so ass-backwards-out-of-it-exhausted-and-nuts this week that I don't even remember whether I picked up the shift before we planned our excursion, or vice versa. Last time I saw Tracey, I didn't even know what month it was. HECK, I'M DOIN' GREAT, Y'ALL. *And* the Republican National Convention is this week, just in time to yank me writhing and delirious from my cute-French-diver-in-Speedos reverie and thrust me headfirst into full on fisted raging.
Relationships. This week has been all about relationships. Well, and me. Relationships (including friendships) with me, and what I want out of them. Please excuse me if I've been a bit of a head case these last few weeks. I've merely been trying not to bore everyone with gory details of my personal life, but then I remembered something a wise old owl told me once, and that was that I had a duty to share my story with other people, enabling them to laugh at it. Oh, and then some crap about the human experience, learning vicariously and all that bullshit, too. So then today I get this email from my best friend, telling me to go check up on Dooce, because she's just checked herself into a psych ward for depression. So I read the post, and yes, she's locked up, and I think to myself, "Why am I being all conservative about what I'm saying on my site? Why do I care so damn much what other people think?"
So thank you, Dooce, for waking me up (and hope you're doing better, by the way), and let's all hope that this last lapse in open communication in what is supposed to be my little venting post is truly the last lapse (say that one ten times fast), and if any of you are bored, well, too bad. As much as I do care about the content of my site and whether or not anyone else is entertained, amused, provoked, inspired, etc., let's not forget that the primary purpose is to afford myself a bit of sanity, as well as to document my living breathing insanity for the whole wide world (web) to dissect.
So there's my crunchy little head for ya. Stays crunchy in milk. Have it for breakfast (wouldn't recommend pouring Guinness on it, though - not so crunchy).
Also, a personal note to a personal someone who doesn't get nearly enough credit from me these days: Hi (I'm smiling three inches from your nose right now). Thank you. You kick my ass, and I certainly hope I'm still kicking yours.

Happy Birthday, Juliana!!!!!

Love,
Maddie and Aunt Stephy

Oh, my ears and whiskers...

Last night began innocently enough. It ended, however, in a karaoke bar downtown singing "Sunday Bloody Sunday" and "Bohemian Rhapsody" with three drunken Irishmen.
Gerry Dunne, you are a bad influence, a good laugh, and an even better friend. Safe travels on your way back home.

I am Poopie, yes I am (jig jig jig and-a can can can)

God bless Tracey for, among a plethora of other reasons (one being that she is responsible for my love of the word plethora - isn't it something when you can say you've been friends with someone so long that you can remember building your vocabulary with them? think of a time, a time before the word "plethora".... feeling old yet? THAT'S how long I've loved this girl), this post. May you be blessed and looked upon favorably eternally by the gods and goddesses of BitchSlapRealityCheck. XOXOX

Captain's log

Days passing like water. Reading 1984 still, about halfway through. Andy (Reverse) stopped in at Palomino last night to give me a copy of _We_ by Yevgeny Zamyatin, a book written before 1984 and which Andy thinks Orwell had read before writing his own book. Planning on reading _We_ and _Brave New World_ before taking a break from fiction and reading a book on Scientology I picked up in Rockford. I suppose I'm drowning myself in books, and yes, I'm perfectly aware that it's all distraction, but I'm not really sure what else to do right now. For those of you who read this site and do not know me personally, let's just say that my personal life is in a state of upheaval at the moment, hence the detached writing. It used to be that whenever I was going through some kind of emotional turmoil, words would come spilling out almost unwillingly. Now I just feel numb.
Was supposed to go to Rockford for my godson's birthday party today, but am too tired to drive there and back before work. Shift starts at 3:30 today, and I just couldn't justify driving a total of three hours for what would have been a one-hour visit, tops. Looks like I'll be waitressing on Saturdays from now on instead of hostessing, which is a better deal financially. Profitable distraction. Not that I've been doing anything with the money I have made so far this week...it all sits in a pile, waiting to be taken to the bank. Finding it difficult to make lunch, let alone get in a car and drive. I find that, at least in one respect, I'm living in a world which is entirely composed of the present moment and has no connection to or responsibility to any past events or history. My biggest problem this weekend, while Maddie's up north with Ryan, is trying to decide what I'd like to do now that what I most want to do seems unattainable. Up for grabs this evening: Couch Flambeau at Cactus Club, or a benefit for a new feminist bookstore set to open in the next few months. Old-school Milwaukee rock vs. drag queens and kings variety show. Or I could just sit at home and breathe. All three seem equal in their lack of appeal right now.
Just wanted to check in so no one thinks I've checked out.

Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy

Go buy: Ani Difranco's Revelling/Reckoning.
Go see: Couch Flambeau at The Cactus Club this Saturday.

"'cause nothing is as it appears
in the funhouse mirror of your fears
on the roller coaster of all these years
with your hands above your head.

and win or lose just that you choose this little war
is what kills you
and either/or it's that this war is
maybe also what thrills you"
- "reckoning" - ani d

AIDS Walk is on, people!

Alright, slackers. Go to this site and register for the AIDS Walk. It's on September 26th (that's a Sunday), here in lovely lakeside Milwaukee. It's a 10k (my mathematical genius tells me that's approximately 6.2 miles), winding along the elegant shore of our toxic waters and through the neighborhoods of Milwaukee's elite, so there will be plenty of gardens to envy and Porsches to throw your little empty plastic water cups at (or full ones, hell, just don't let me see it). So stretch those little calf muscles, then let your fingers do the walking to the website and REGISTER! If you want to join my team (the mighty Team Palomino!), please register as an individual (my team isn't on the site yet) and then LET ME KNOW (comment link below if you wish, email, or call) and I will add you to the growing list of minions who have already bowed to my wishes. Your name will then be entered into my Official Team Registry, which will not only make you an Official Member of Team Palomino, but will also make you eligible to be called, emailed, snail-mailed, megaphoned at your workplace, and in any other way I can think of, harassed and intimidated until you get your sorry asses up to the start line, checks in hand, and fulfill my goal of $500 (that's collectively, folks, I know we're all a bunch o' blue collars here). Oh, and if the overlords of the afterlife are members of the Christian Coalition, then it may also be your free ticket to hell. WHOO-HOO! And if you DON'T join my team, well, then, you're just a big meanie.
Seriously, folks, even if you don't know someone who is diagnosed with HIV/AIDS, it's a really great fundraiser, and fun to boot (get it! it's a walk! "to boot"! I kill me). So get off your asses and register, 'cause I do know someone with HIV, and he could walk circles around your lazy ass. PROVE ME WRONG, BITCHES!

Don't think of an elephant.

Here we are on Tuesday. Worked all weekend, hung out with Jeff Saturday night after work. Spent Sunday and Monday with Mom, went to a family reunion, did some thrift store shopping. There's an old Buddhist proverb in which a teacher is trying to instruct his student in proper meditation. He tells his student to let the little thoughts float by, just let the mind wander, etc., and not to hold on tightly to any particular train of thought, particularly any major issues that may be going on in the student's life. He gives only one rule: Don't think of an elephant. The student, of course, immediately thinks of an elephant, simply because he is telling himself not to. That's pretty much how my weekend went.
Anyway. You'd be amazed how much household crap you can buy with $40 (correction: how much your *mom* can buy with $40. Thanks again, Mom). Blankets, new sheets for Maddie, drinking glasses, a new jacket to replace the jean jacket that went back to its rightful owner last week (I'd found it in the basement at the Palomino a year ago and someone finally claimed it), tons of books, some crappy records (John MacCormack!), antique salt shakers with their own cute little tray, spice jars, tea cups and saucers, the game Operation for Maddie... Found a Backgammon board for $1, which I will take for a test spin tonight with Carmen if she's not too tired. Maddie's finally able to ride the bike that Mom got for her (two-wheeler! with training wheels, of course), so I brought it home. Planning on spray-painting the frame and then loading it up with stickers (Top Shelf, RushMor, bands, etc.). Make it a little more personalized for her, which she's excited about. Will post a picture when it's done.
Have to take Solomon to the vet this week. He hasn't been eating well the last few days, so I'm concerned about him.
That's about it.
Reading: Orwell's _1984_.
Listening to: Jawbox, self-titled.

to whom it may concern

"And if I bestow all my goods to feed, and give my body to be burned, and have not love, I am nothing. Love suffers long and is kind." - Corinthians I 13:3-4

Dirty laundry

Welcome to Monday... Maddie has commenced in torturing Solomon, who is now hiding in fear under (of all places) Maddie's bed. For some miraculous reason, this is the one place Maddie has chosen *not* to look for him. I don't know what kind of crazy mojo is going on in this house today, but at least no one's being mauled (yet). My daughter aged another three years over the weekend, most notably in the free will department. Political debates abound ("I said 'NO.'" "I said, 'YES.'"). My uterus has, after three days of utterly malicious delay, finally decided to allow itself to perform its monthly duty, spawning in lieu of human life the pressing question which follows: If an organ in one's own body is not acting in accordance to one's will, would the actions of said organ be more accurately described as 'sadistic' or 'masochistic'? What about 'sadomasochistic'?
Hm.
These and other philosophic quandaries to be considered while perfecting the art of Cleaning Therapy.

Daytrippin', Wigflippin' Fun

This photo was actually taken last week, but I just wanted to show off my new photo-posting skills.
For those of you who have the distinct privilege of knowing them, and for those who are still quivering with anticipation, I have added the Five Card Studs to the links list. I've just come from their exhilerating performance at The Harp, where the winners of the Cesar's Leather Pants Giveaway were announced and awarded with their autographed swatches of leather from said pants. Let me tell you ladies: It. Was. Hot.

Welcome our new baby boy!

His name is Solomon, he's eight weeks old, and he's from the hood. I saved him from a ghetto pet shop on Hampton and 84th, where he will never, ever go again as long as he lives, and where I would like to free all the little animals and then set fire to the place. He's a little freaked out, but happy in his new home, alternately exploring the vastness that is my castle and pausing in my lap to gratefully purr.
I. Love. Him.

Save the children!.... WAIT, NO! KILL EVERYBODY!

Ahh, the sound of silence. Ryan picked Maddie up an hour ago to take her up north for the weekend, and here I am, soaking up the nothingness. It feels good, let me tell ya. After the last entry, starting this one off by revelling in her absence may mislead some of you into thinking that I, in general, do not wish to spend time with my daughter. This is not true. I assure you that I do love her very much, even when her little face is exploding with resentment and it appears as though her little head is just going to go all Exorcisty on me. I would also like to make the point that any mother who does not, at some point or another, feel like she's about to lose her shit is either a) lying, b) indifferent, or c) raising Mother Theresa.
Speaking of Mother Theresa.... Keeping all I just said in mind, get this: I took a personality test that Trace linked to on her site, and in the category of "What Famous Person Are You?", my results came back as... MOTHER THERESA. In case anyone missed the humor in this, I beg of you, read my last entry. I'll ask all of you what I asked Trace: Since when does Mother Theresa have tattoos and road rage?
Oh, and for the "What Classic Movie Are You?" quiz? SCHINDLER'S LIST. I told my co-workers this, and they all agreed that it means one of two things: I am either incredibly strong in my will to perservere against fascist oppression, OR, I may be capable of genocide.
Take your pick and comment below.

Honey, I'm home!

Hallelujah, my cable has been restored! Let us all bow our heads in a prayer of thanks...
Well, I read over the last few entries from before the aptly-named "drought" and I'm not going to even bother with filler from the last month, seeing as I talk to most of you at least once a week. So that leaves us with the present day.
Listening to: Enya ($1 at a garage sale!! Some of you may think that's all it's worth, but hey. To each their own).
Reading: _The Easy Way to Stop Smoking_, by Allen Carr. Going to B&N today to buy _1984_ because.... well, because of that Bush guy. And Michael Moore.
Watching: Fahrenheit/911. Go see it. Even if you're a Bush supporter. Open yourself to another viewpoint and do your part to end political ignorance! And sure, okay, fine.... I'll see if I can find some Republican psychobabble or some anti-Clinton material while I'm at B&N. But first I have to finish _Flux: Women on Sex, Work, Love, Kids, and Life in a Half-Changed World_, by Peggy Orenstein, 'cause this is the second time I've started, and I'm finishing it this time, dammit.
Volunteering: for the AIDS Walk! Milwaukee's is on September 26th, so cough it up, people! Gimme yer hard earned dough, or click here to sign up! If you'd like to come with me to the glorious event, give me a call and we'll make arrangements.
Coming up: Irish Fest! If anyone in the fam wants to come, please do but be advised that the Clare is booked solid and you will have to settle for my hide-a-bed, newly installed by the sexiest (and sneakiest) delivery guy ever. Call for details (the event, or the delivery guy, either would be fabulous).
Maddie's new trick: Asking me what words she is *not* to say, just so she can say them and I can't yell at her for it: "Mommy, I can't say 'shit,' huh. I can't say 'fuck,' either. Or 'dammit.'" Also, she has become a bit more forward in expressing her curiosity about the anatomy of the opposite gender, i.e., she asked Greg - while he was working at the bar and in front of customers - if she could see his penis. Actually, it was more like, "Greg, you have a penis. Show it to me." I don't think I need to mention he declined.
New toy: Greg bought a van! Everyone knows this by now, as I have blabbing about it for the last two weeks. Took a road trip to Harrington Beach yesterday, which was relaxation beyond words. It's been at least 15 years since I've ridden in a van at all, let alone on the highway and while happily lapping at an ice cream cone. Cannot wait until we can go camping. Will buy tent this week. I AM GOING CAMPING THIS YEAR IF IT KILLS ME.
Shows: Saw Braid for their final American show on Sunday. Great music, really enjoyed Murder By Death as well. The best part about these kinds of shows (meaning, shows I see on Greg's recommendation) is, for me, not only that I get to see something I would have missed otherwise, but that I get to know him better. I wasn't a part of his life then, I wan't even listening to that whole genre of music. He gets to be nostalgic, and I get to watch all googly-eyed as he's whisked away to yesteryear, punching fists in the air, dancing and singing along to old favorites (minus the drunkenness and actual rage). And I get to rock out, too! Everyone wins! Yay! (The scales of nostalgia will be tipped when, in November, he is magically whisked away to Steph and Trace in High School, Revisited, otherwise known as the Pixies show(s). Let's all hope for my sake that I don't, in the throes of excitement, smack him in the eye when Frank hits the stage and that, when the lights come up, he still finds me remotely attractive.)
Family news: Town reunion in Paw Paw was fun. Spent an hour talking to Grandpa about his military experiences and memories. I really enjoyed it, but he insists it was torture to listen to and suggested Zen Buddhism as the topic for our next discussion. Duly noted, will bring it up at the Jones reunion on the 15th.
That's it for now - lunch is calling. Good to be back, blogging, surfing, replacing my desktop with pictures from Ireland. Ahhhh....
Thanks to Tracey for not dumping me for this inexcusable delay in blogging, responding to email, reading email, etc., and for posting those FREAKING AWESOME!!! pictures of Maddie and Juli. Love them!