Some Thrilling Tales I Have Read

1. 57 AC Transit Schedule

Wow! What a page turner. Or, really, I should say due to AC Transit's innovative design, what an unfolder. I could barely believe my eyes as they stroked the neat rows of timetables encapsulated in this document. There are a lot of choices represented here, and a lot of suspense. If I leave the house right now, will I make it to the bus stop by such and such a time? If the bus leaves San Pablo Avenue and 40th Street at such and such a time, how long will that svelte leviathan take to roll gently to the curb near MLK and 40th? So much depends upon the answer, and yet the reader is left guessing and hungry for more. The emotional roller coaster involved leaves this reader, to say the least, in a heightened state only previously achieved through the generous abuse of contraband. Thrilling. A must read.

2. 1 AC Transit Schedule

There is a story here, within these numbers. "Once upon a time there was a little girl who played in the sun all day. But then she grew up and had to get a 'real' job. On top of that, her car was possessed with seven devils that no one could get out. She had to take the bus to and from her 'real' job. Sometimes she had to wait 45 minutes in the rain." In fact, there are always stories within numbers. This is the sad kind of tale that can only be assuaged through the generous abuse of contraband.

3. 1R Transit Schedule

Okay, now we are back to suspense. By pouring through this lofty tome, will I finally come to learn just where the 1R deigns to stop and where it doesn't? (Those of us living in the wrong part of town where the 1R doesn't stop already know it's because we live in run down looking houses.) Yes, the 1R(ich) is headed straight to Berkeley and now I've finally got my ticket. Contraband yada yada yada.

A Few More Episodes (c)

1. Part I: Jenny is finally given a chance to put her Masters degree to work at the office when she is ordered to go through a ten page document line by line and change the spacing after each numbered item from a tab to two spaces. Then, when this does not create the desired effect, Jenny once again uses her advanced education to change the two spaces to three spaces. Wacky hi-jinks do not ensue on any level. To be continued. (c)

2. Jenny comes in early and works very hard to get important documents ready for proofing by noon on Friday before three day weekend. Maybe they will finish the work up early and go home before 5! Instead, Jenny's boss talks on the phone all afternoon with friends and doesn't start proofing documents until 4:45. Jenny leaves work at 5:35 and promptly misses bus. Here, as well, wacky hi-jinks do not ensue. (c)

3. "Caffeine Crazy"

Buoyed by her newfound dislike of her new job, Jenny finally buckles down and writes query letter and novel outline. While doing so, she ingests an entire pot of coffee. Wacky hi-jinks ensue. (c)

Just Jenny! A Great Idea For A New Sitcom.

1. Jenny wakes up early Sunday morning and finds that 8 adults over the age of 27 have spent the night in her apartment. Three of them are sleeping in the living room with an empty bottle of Jim Beam. What happened? Jenny wants to do yoga, but can't because their drunken bodies are in the way. Wacky hi-jinks ensue.

2. Jenny gets the bug that everybody's coming down with ensuring general fatigue, low mood, and an inability to get anything done. Jenny takes Airborne religously. It doesn't help. Wacky hi-jinks ensue.

3. "Leather Wallpaper"

Jenny is assigned an important new project at work: to locate a retail establishment where her employer can purchase a vaguely described leather hole punch. "I have all this leather I have to poke holes through," he tells her. Jenny tries to imagine exactly what the project might be. At least three of the scenarios create an uncomfortable working environment. Wacky hi-jinks ensue in her imagination.

4. In a very special episode of Just Jenny, Jenny falls victim to a bewildering and possibly contagious toenail fungus. To avoid social stigma, Jenny hides her feet from public view at all times, but a secret presses within her. Deeply felt performances and a Public Service Announcement ensue. If you or someone you know. . .

5. "Season Finale"

Recovered from her brush with illness, Jenny's life returns to banality and everyday responsibilities. In order to feel alive, Jenny uses extra cash to purchase digital camera and guitar instead of pay down debt. Wacky hi-jinks ensue.

Quick! My Boss Needs An Awl By Valentine's Day And It Is My Job To Get Him One.

I don't know about you, but the last time I looked in the mirror, I did not see a handmaiden to a serial killer. I saw a slightly confused, mildly overworked legal assistant in a preppy argyle vest and the same pair of pants she wore the day before and the day before that. (She wore them because they were at the top of the pile, not because she is slovenly like some serial killers might be.) Nonetheless, this is now an item on my 'To-Do' list, thoughtfully added by my boss in order to balance out all the other items I haven't had time to complete. So while you are frosting heart-shaped cupcakes with whispy pink frosting, I will be waiting in line at the hardware store. And not even for my own personal edification, but so that I can aid and abet a twisted sociopath. Please someone bake me a heart-shaped cake with a file in it so I can get out of this prison.

I Allow Myself To Feel A Teensy-Tiny Bit Of Schadenfreude

MC,GB mourns the news of his deadbeat dad's decline

For those of you wondering about the status of MC,GB's deadbeat dad, I am happy to report that there has been a recent sighting at a grocery store in Alameda.  My informant tells me that MC,GB's deadbeat dad was purchasing beer and looked like he had a "pot belly" and appeared "bloated."  

A Few Things I'd Like To Accomplish In The Next Twenty Minutes Or So Or Next Twenty Years Or So, Dependingly

1. Write a book called "Hwaet! Beowulf in the Twentieth Century."

2. Go visit the family of wolves that raised me in the forest preserves outside Chicago. Apparently, there is a new cub in the pack and she is very cute.

3. Become independently wealthy by writing a tragic yet uplifting tale of human triumph over struggle. Get on Oprah. Quit day job. Lie face down on the couch between intermittent bits of trying to write second novel. Oh wait. I've done all that. Just not the Oprah part or the day job part.

4. Abuse my prescriptions. (Now we're talking twenty minutes.)

5. Abuse your prescriptions.

6. Sleep the sleep of the dead.

7. Wake up late.

Yesterday, I Had A Case of the Mondays. Today,I Have A Case of the Tuesdays.

What menace lurks beneath this calm exterior? It is my boss.

On Mondays I have clinical depression. On Tuesdays, I have the kind of depression where some natural light and a healthy diet might help. On Wednesdays, I am getting emotionally ready for Thursday, which is when I start to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Friday is exciting, Saturday is great, but Sunday I am already thinking about Monday when my boss will behave like the wild animal he is tearing chaotically through my work space in a disorderly fashion spewing out directions like, "Rooaar! Do this now!!" or "Aaaargh! I needed this yesterday but I've been sitting on it for two weeks so you could have the pleasure of working on it last minute under pressure!!"

I have decided there is only one solution to this debacle. I have to write the kind of novel that will sell. I was going to make the sequel for my first novel even artier than the first. But we can't all be Chuck Pahlaniuk. Maybe I should stop holding out and just give in to the temptation to believe that the subject of finding Mr. Right while wearing important shoes is a viable art form. I mean, just think of the craft behind the following sentence, "I was wearing my newest pair of ballet flats--the satiny stripey ones--trying to hail a cab and balance a latte when I saw him. He lived in my building and had one of those [insert name of trendy dog breed here]." Or, maybe what the world really needs is a chick-lit choose-your-own adventure novel.
I would allow the reader to engage fully in the story by asking her to choose between ultra-important options like skinny jeans or bootcut. For example. The only impediment to this wonderful opportunity I'm creating for myself, of course, is my gag reflex. I just do not think I could make it through 250 pages of husband-angling. So I guess I will have to suck it up and stick with the dictaphone. Yes, I said dictaphone. Also, we have dial up.

But I am not bitter. Bitter is for pussies. I am brave.

Heartache! Loneliness! Rejection!

Normally I think it's poor form to make fun of anyone on my blog besides myself and my meandering, clueless, feral, partially sick-in-the-head, occasionally inebriated, moderately disabled, usually irreverent and often banal ways--and let's not forget the ways of my cat, Stanley, who has been subjected to a pseudonym--but every once in a while some dippy Berkeley-type woman comes along with a stack of tarot cards excitedly murmuring key words like "duality" with the intellectual expression of a yak. Really, I have only myself to blame for abandoning my principles of "this shit is stupid" and playing along for a moment, but a moment long enough to get that there card to the left that doesn't look good anyway you spin it. I was further instructed (this was at an art opening) to "go home and meditate" on the three virtues of heartache, loneliness and rejection that this card symbolizes. Hmmm. I could do that, and no doubt after I finish my mild flip-out, I will be able to see how this card can help me understand the role these three entities have played in my life and how I've grown because of them yada yada yada and how they are part of anyone's life and it's how you weather them that counts and that I am not necessarily doomed persay. But the fact that I am sitting around rationalizing what some stupid yak card says just pisses me off more. That stupid "duality" lady is lucky I'm an extremely rational, emotionally balanced individual who would never succumb to despair at picking such a card, for the mere sake of playing along. Same to all of you amateur astrologers out there who are constantly telling me I am cursed by the stars. But just in case you are wondering, I was born on the cusp of Cancer and Leo, my rising is in Cancer, and my moon is in Aquarius. No thank you.