The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

i don’t know . . . but i sure feel tense lately.

i just started 2 online courses to complete my (neverending) degree in Psychology. having lost two beloved pets last month and the subsequent emotional adjustment left me a little sapped. work has been wearing on me a little and i am STILL slightly sick . . .

but mostly just sick of not having enough time to just sit here
and write
and draw
and sing
and drink
and dance
and sleep
and pet the cats
and take pictures
and scribble
and glue shit together
and create
and laminate
and get paid for it.

so to make myself feel more at ease (and to keep the cold at bay) – i fried up some pierogies filled with potatoes and cheese in butter and warmed up some drinking chocolate sent to me from the UK courtesy of a dearly missed friend, re-read a sympathy card for Miles from another missed friend in Detroit, also named Andrea, stared at my clown fish, the sweeping fan feeders and the little purple hairy ghost crab that inahbits the nano-reef i have in my office, snatched up both cats for a kiss and a cuddle, listened to some old Steeley Dan, wandered DA for some inspiration, slathered up in some lavender lotion and donned some soft pajama bottoms, which i should now waste your time/amuse you by describing:

these newly beloved pajama pants are cream colored with fuschia cats all over them. the cats have big heads, tiny bodies and a little curlique for a tail. they have hearts for eyes and interspersed in the places where cats do not reside, there are tiny chocolate, caramel, and fuschia colored hearts and the word “kitten” right side up and upside down all over in between the hearts. they sit low on the waist and have this really cool japanese, flare and overlapping fabric trimminng detail at the ankles. if i never have to get out of these pants that would be just fine with me.

soon now – i should find myself curled up with actual kittens pressed against my kitten pajamas, jacked into my iPod listening to Douglas Adams read his book, “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” for the bazillionth time. (by the way, interestingly enough, if you simply type the word “hitchhiker” into GOOGLE, you get a whole lotta Adams.

i have a box of photos i intend to begin sorting through to and transferring them into 2 large leather books. there is everything from me coloring Easter eggs to my high school graduation and far beyond. i find something amusing in the photos that others take of me – in most of them, i am holding a wine glass.

Well, i suppose i will do what the HHGTTG says, “DON’T PANIC,” keep a towel handy, and drink plenty of fluids . . .

“The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy also mentions alcohol. It says that the best drink in existence is the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.

It says that the effect of a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster is like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick. ”

and perhaps it is time to unwind with some stellar bevvies 🙂

in the meantime, i’ll be over at Marcy’s place in the afternoon, setting up a wireless network, which i’m sure will require at LEAST a bottle of wine.

in pre-emptive celebration, i will leave you with a funny bit about fine ladies gone out drinking . . .

Women’s 19 clues to calling it a night
you know it’s time to go home when …

1. You have absolutely no idea where your shoes are.

2. You’ve just had to get someone to help you pull your pants up in the ladies room.

3. You suddenly decide you want to kick someone’s ass.

4. In your last trip to “pee” you realize you look more like Tammy Faye Baker than the goddess you were just four hours ago.

5. You drop your 3:00 a.m. burrito on the floor, pick it up and carry on eating.

6. You start crying.

7. There are less than three hours before you’re due to start work.

8. You’ve found a deeper side to the office nerd.

9. The man you’re flirting with used to be your 5th grade teacher.

10. The urge to take off articles of clothing, stand on a table and sing becomes strangely overwhelming.

11. You’ve forgotten where you live.

12. You’ve started to sound like Jessie Ventura from the cigarettes you’ve smoked, because (as you’ve mentioned like 10 times by now) you only smoke when you drink.

13. You yell at the bartender, who (you think) cheated you by giving you just tonic, but that’s just because you can no longer taste the gin or vodka.

14. You think you’re in bed, but your pillow feels strangely like pizza.

15. You start every conversation with a booming, “Don’t take this the wrong way but…”

16. You fail to notice that the toilet lid’s down when you sit on it.

17. Your sloppy hugs begin to resemble wrestling take-down moves.

18. You’re tired so you just sit on the floor (and why not!).

19. You show your friends that girls CAN pee standing up, if they really try.

i typically go to Barnes & Noble Booksellers, but happened by the mega 2-level Border’s Books & Music & Café & Dogwash and Small Business Loan Center & Foreign Dignitary Meet-n-Greet. Fuck that place is HUGE! Anyway, i walk down the winding hallway to the restroom seeing multiple red STOP Signs, asking me “Did you get your token?” and informing me to “Pick one up at the Information Desk.” Here i am, assuming they are talking about some Holiday giveaway or some Frequent Flyer Reader crap, until i get to the bathroom door and find a lock entry system. Requiring a TOKEN. Like a vending machine with a turn crank.

Now i have to wander back down the snaky hallway to find the Token Keepers that permit me the coveted entry to the Magical Border’s PissPot. i briskly approach the two men standing behind the café counter, both of them looking more like they could change your oil before they could make a decent latté. “Right,” i begin, “so i need a token to go potty, then.” They both nod and one of them palms me a gold coin, smaller than a dime. “Fabulous,” I breathe and turn on my heels, flipping my scarf theatrically as i depart back down the hall. i mean – what are they trying to prevent? Less wear and tear on the bathroom? A once over to assess whether or not you are a vagrant who wants to freshen up?

After this adventure, i picked up an audio CD copy of Chuck Palahniuk’s latest, Diary: A Novel. i have heard part of this and found it so-far, a masterful re-invention of the horror novel. For those of you who are women, a waitress, and/or an artist/painter, perhaps caught in a dead end job or relationship, you may find some of the initial observations in this one, painfully astute. i ripped it and dropped it into my iPod for bedtime “reading.” This audio book is read by Martha Plimpton. You may remember her from such films as 200 Cigarettes, Pecker, Beautiful Girls, I Shot Andy Warhol, Parenthood, and our ever-beloved, The Goonies.

i was also amused on the way out the door to find a copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy hanging out in the travel section. Funny how Douglas Adams continues to be a daily reminder in my life . . . Some people have a great sense of humor, sticking a sci-fi fictional story about a faux-intergalactic travel guide right next to BELIZE.

Going to a store that big and thinking on the heels of travel, i have to admit – i am not particularly looking forward to the Holidays. i wildly applaud Wal-Mart’s slumping sales, and i could give a snot rocket less if K-Mart has acquired Sears in the weirdest merger of two of the worst throwback freak shows passing themselves off as department and low-cost retail stores. i don’t really want to buy presents, nor do I want them bought for me. what i’d really like is a wicked fucking snowstorm to just slow people right the hell down. And to just call all of my friends who i can’t be with on Christmas and New Year’s Eve and tell them i miss them and i care about them and ask them how they are doing and actually listen to a response from them beyond, “fine and you?”

Some of the magic seems to be missing out of the madness in the season. i do like the solstice, though i don’t care for winter sports. i rather like watching it from a warm spot behind the window glass, much like my cats. We all pray for a little red cardinal to light upon a snow drift so i can snap a photo and they can chatter away, wishing they could capture the bird differently.

When it comes to gift-giving, i am more of the random type. Not your birthday or our anniversary or the publicly, religiously sanctioned, Hallmark branded and invented spend-fests that govern the seasons and give us reasons to spin our GoodYear tires out of a snow bank and into whatever storefront our car happens to crash.

i don’t mean to be cynical – i believe giving is a fine idea. i think Santa is as fine a faerie tale as any. i think Jesus was pretty cool . . . “i love his work” as Hedwig (and his Angry inch) would say. i don’t think i am too old to experience the wonder that is Christmas in the way i did as a child – after all, as an adult i am still required the (token) equivalent of a hall pass to use the bathroom. i am just holding out for a good dinner, some good wine, maybe a new music CD, some good conversation, laughs & storytelling, that wicked snowstorm . . . and maybe a sparkly little miracle.

Tag: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

more wine, vicar?

make mine sparkly