kdiddy.org

I need to:
-clean up my desk
-clean up my room
-clean up the kitchen
-finish laundry…but I can't since there's no detergent! wooo!

The baby went down for his nap a little bit ago and I've just sort of been sitting here. I was checking out because I've been thinking of writing out my son's story in detail in case he's ever curious about it. However, I read this rather long story that one woman posted about her son being stillborn. It really freaked me out and now I'm just trying to not think about birth or anything related to it.

Anyway, moving along to lighter subject matter…I went to Ray's last night, which is some new bar on Butler Street. It's decorated rather nicely, although I must admit that I was a tad apprehensive since it's full name is something like Ray's Marlin Beach Bar or some shit. I was expecting hula skirts and huge drinks with umbrellas but it was very tastefully decorated and the crowd was decent. Most of my friend-types were already drunk when I got there and, being a lightweight, I was feeling a little out of place. I had one cocktail and spent most of the night talking to Liz, Black Mike, , and observing Kelly and harrassment of Tim the Bartender and their primal screams of “WWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I ventured out on to the dancefloor for a few minutes and tried to get my Janet-Jackson-circa-1994 on but I wasn't totally feeling the music. I retreated once again to the bar where Kelly was renaming everyone. Kevin, the DJ, became Kevin McEnroe (after tennis great John McEnroe) due to his volatile personality/tendency to be a total asshole. Liz and I were both dubbed “Bake Sale” since we're, like, all domestic and shit.
The boyfriend, for whatever reason, planted his ass in the corner all night and didn't really move. No matter, he goes out all the time. I was there to socialize. As usual, people felt the need to come up to me and talk shit on him. I realize the guy's got a reputation for being a dick, but, hello, he's still MY boyfriend and the father of my darling son and I will start putting some boots in people's asses. I swear, if I went up to anyone else and just started talking shit on their significant other it would be rude. But for whatever reason it's not supposed to bother me. RARGH! That makes me angry. Yeah, yeah, I know they were just kidding but it's still a shitty thing to do. Besides, I came out to chit chat and listen to music, not hear about all the ways people dislike my boyfriend.

Alright, something very scary is happening with my computer. Must restart. More later.

Does it piss anyone off that I do the lame quizzes and shit on here? Does it seem so AOL? If so, I'll stop. At least I'm not posting urgent email fwd's about “THERE'S A NEW GANG THAT HIDES UNDER YOUR CAR AND TO GET INITIATED THEY CUT YOUR ACHILLES TENDON AND THEN INJECT YOU WITH SARS AND AIDS AND THEN THEY STEAL YOUR KIDNEYS AND THEN POUR ACID ON YOU LIKE IN INDIA AND THEN THEY MAKE YOUR COMPUTER GET A VIRUS !!!!!!!!!!THIS IS NOT A JOKE!!!!!!!!! FORWARD THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!”

Did you ever have a day when you were feeling generally shitty about yourself? Then you thought about it for a minute and tried to convince yourself that you were being silly. Just as your self-esteem started to poke its head out from under the sheets an old friend gets in touch to tell you how fabulously she's doing. Amazingly, you feel like shit again. That happened to me today.
I posted earlier about my ongoing career woes. Mostly, I'm frustrated with my lack of direction. I can't seem to decide on a path and just start walking down it. I'm terrified I'm going to do something wrong. But anyway, I calmed myself down a little bit but then got this email from Melynda, a girl I interned with at Pulp who has since gone on to be an intern at Bust Magazine in NYC:
Hey guys,
So things worked out at Bust and I'm interning here for the entire summer
now. I'm working two days a week so today I'm going to interview with The
New York Press too. I wrote an angry e-mail to the Village Voice yesterday
for their inability to contact intern candidates in a timely manner. They
replied saying that not all intern positions had been filled and they were
still looking over applications. Whatever. But I really really love Bust.
I'm babysitting for one of the editors now too, and she lets me drive her
car. I'm also writing a music review and an article for the next issue. I
might write more than one review, but I'm not sure yet. But, I love it.
I love New York now too. It took me almost two months, but now I get it.
And, Patti Smith is putting on a free show in two weeks, plus Pretty Girls
Make Graves, plus Gil Mantera next week! There's so much great stuff coming
up it's rediculous. I guess I'm going home in the beginning of August, so I
can chill before my European stint this fall. I'm ready for three weeks of
nothing. I”ll probably go crazy in the process, but I haven't relaxed in
almost nine months.
I haven't had any more drunken escapades, mainly becuase I haven't been
drunk. I did get to go to a velvet rope party last week. Bust had it's 10
year anniversary party and I got to let Guy from the Toilet Boys in. He's
beautiful! I swear he shimmers(he's in the cher issue). The party was at
Coral Room. They have a huge aquarium with a human mermaid who swims
throughout the party. My friend Emily is a mermaid there now too. She just
auditioned last week. I guess some dude from Six Feet Under was there too.
Bob was the emcee and there were burlesque acts and stuff like that too, and
free beer and vodka.
I hope everything is great in Pittsburgh. I'll talk to you soon!
Melynda

I'll admit it, I'm green. Save for the human mermaid part (what the fuck?), I'm totally choking on jealous bile. Not only that, I'm getting all freaked out about the decisions I've made in my life, ie, ballet, college, even the baby, and feeling like a total asshole for second-guessing my self and basically my kid. I'm an ass.
On top of all that, I got a brochure in the mail from the Kaplan people about their LSAT prep courses. Yeah. I've toyed on and off with the idea of becoming a lawyer. Could I have any less soul?

This chick, , just posted in . It was some nonsense about how she smoked all of this pot last night, slept with 5 or 6 different guys, is 16, sore and is wondering, “duh, does that make me a slut?”

Her personal journal is pretty stellar, as well.
Crackers.

Anyway, I went bowling last night. Woo! Every time I go bowling I think I'm going to get into “the zone” and actually break 80. I almost did last night. I bowled a 79! Please, don't get too jealous. However, I think I made a breakthrough. I was dressed somewhat retardedly. I was wearing a tshirt, my do-rag, a long khaki skirt (?), tube socks, and the required bowling shoes. I looked so hot. I'm really confused as to why the yinzers weren't all over me….
But in any case, I had to modify my bowling style due to the restrictive nature of the skirt. I think it helped. Luckily, Paco's roommate's girlfriend was there and her skills are ever so lightly below mine. So I didn't look like a total chump. However, I must say, “fuck alcohol.” I had one beer and I have a headache this morning. I give up.

Career frustrations…
I haven't written anything for Pulp in a really long time. (Shanley, if you're reading this, don't take offense.) I'm kind of at a loss as to what to do. I know I can't really expect them to assign things to me, but being a mom I really can't be out all the time scoping for stuff. I informally pitched a story about this new arcade on the South Side but someone was already writing about it. Always a day late and a dollar short. Regardless, I think I'm trying to go to that arcade.
However, looking on the bright side, the Live Journal gods have smiled on me. I've met and her partner in crime through this goofy journal. I'm soon to be collaborating with them on www.wintermittens.com
I'm pumped.
But, yeah, writing. I'm confused about it. It seems like such an impractical endeavor. I think I would be happy if, during the next couple of years, I could maintain a 9 to 5 just to take care of regular life stuff (stuff for the baby, house, car, credit cards) and free lance on the side. Later, if I wanted to turn to writing full time I would have enough experience to possibly do so. But something in my gut tells me that won't happen…I'll just get sucked into a 9 to 5 and never do anything creative with my life. Of course, my problem now is that I can't seem to find a 9 to 5. The big things on my resume are my lower management duties at the defunct Music X and my internship at Pulp. No one's very impressed by my time spent in the food service industry. I'm not exactly setting the world on fire with all of my work experience. I suck.
Blah, I'm sounding so Gen X.
Oh bother. Well, I have crap to do.

I'm pissy. not sure why.
I'm in a purging mood, also. I want to throw all of my stuff out. That never happens. I must be getting sick or something.

You know how a couple of hours ago I said that I was going to take the baby for a walk? Well, right after that it got all cloudy and I thought for sure it was going to start raining. Weatherbug confirmed that rain is in the forecast. However, the clouds have just been sitting there ever since. I know that as soon as I get all packed up and head out, it will start pouring. come on, rain or don't rain. Just quit wasting your time.
grr. weather.
In the meantime, the baby and I had some lunch and I (drumroll) applied for a job over the phone. I'm not going to say much more than that because I don't want to jinx it. But the fact is that the boyfriend and I are BROKE and someone needs to start making some money soon doing something. But I'm going to need support from everyone. Do not let some 9 to 5 take over my life. I want to be a writer. You guys have to keep reminding me of that.
On a completely unrelated note, the skin on my stomach is still substantially fucked up from housing a child for 9 months. In particular, the area around what used to be my bellybutton has a very odd consistency and shape. I poke at it. It frowns at me.

My son is wearing this shirt that my friend Jonah brought back for him from Nicaragua last year. Blue cotton, button down, with some embroidery details down the front. He looks like a little pint-sized South American druglord. How darling!
I have to take a picture.

Last night:
Kelly's was pretty fun, although Joe and Megan seem to be slacking on the “No Music after 1976” rule. Soy Sos was the main DJ for the night and played reggae and dancehall. Funky and soulful, yes, but not precisely funk and soul. Oh well. He did play this one track that was a Grace Jones cover of Bill Whithers' “Use Me.” It was pretty nuts. Some guy was trying to pick me up which was pretty funny. When I declined his offer of a drink because I had to get up early in the morning, he asked me what I did for a living. When I said “I'm a mom,” I wished that I had a camera to capture the expression on his face…sort of a mixture of horror and stupidity. But he held on, and asked me, “Where's the father?” I pointed a few feet to my right to where the boyfriend was sitting, nodding his head. The guy just sort of said, “Oh” and turned around and ignored me. Eh, at least he was straightforward.
I fell asleep almost as soon as we got home and had this really strange dream about going to some hotel, getting a phone call from a telemarketer while I was trying to take a bath and screaming all kinds of obscenities at said telemarketer. I think my dreams are becoming too violent. I can't figure that out.
The weather is pretty nice today so I think me and the baby are going to go strolling in a little bit.

I need a good image hosting site. I probably get a few MBs of space with Verizon but I'd rather deal with them as little as possible (by the way , sorry about never getting back to you on that whole thing. I put my mom in charge and she flaked).

rainy day treat: orange and spice tea with a gob of honey. mmmm…

Catholic Long Distance Company

No good Catholic should use AT&T or MCI because they're pornmongers and employ gays.

*snort*

I hope this is real because it certainly made my day.

ooohhh, rainy days.