oh i forgot to mention

that there was a big-ass five-alarm fire around the corner from us last night. (and yes, just like the dylan-mckay fire bomb i mentioned earlier this week, we saw it off the back deck) i’m talkin the kind that shuts down an entire street and also smells up neigboring houses. like, oh, um, ours. everyone went out to watch but we went to sleep. nothin like the lull of sirens to wave you off to dreamland…

i can’t take this wildlife anymore

srsly. aren’t ppl living in cities, like, not supposed to come in contact with animals? as in: we go out to the country to look at animals from far away and giggle and gasp about how cute and fluffy they are? right? right? THEN WHY THE HELL DO I HAVE TO DEAL WITH SO MANY FRIGGIN ANIMALS IN THIS CITY???!!!

what’s w/the wildlife, huh, baltimore?? what the hell’s with the wildlife? there are CATS sh*tting on our ROOF, ppl! our roof!! tell me how this is even possible? (i know. they’re climbers. but humor me here.) they use our backyard as a friggin litterbox. they. are in. our. WALLS! our walls!

the rats burrow under our gates. they even gnawed thr way thru the concrete as it was drying when we put in our patio. the mice, oh you know about the mice. oh and there’s dogs running loose, too. german shepards and pit bulls (that could easily–and very gladly, i’m sure–tear me apart). i’m telling you WHAT. i used to really like animals before i moved to baltimore. but now i’m srsly rethinking  this, as the animals in this town are determined to ruin my life.

around 7/8 or 9pm most nights we hear some thumps and then some eery scratching in the ceiling, sometimes the walls. the first time this happened i was *alone*. holly was in class and i’m telling you i thought i was going to die. or lose my mind. or run out into the street (which would only have me running back in the house for a myriad of reasons). sometimes it gets so loud i think whatever it is is going to appear splat in the middle of the bamboo floor and start hissing at me. like, pop out from behind the fridge and gouge my eyeballs out. if you heard it i swear you’d feel the same way.

at first we thought that maybe it was a giant (gulp) rat. (oh G-d no. pls.) then i thought maybe it was a raccoon (we had a family of those suckers “move in” above our porch in nj when i was growing up) but we really don’t have those here. (the rats probably eat them. you think i’m joking? yeah, i’m totally not.) we don’t have squirrels in our hood, either. (again, the rats prob. scared them away. nothing fluffy and cute allowed in east baltimore.) we’ve decided it’s probably a cat. or cats. b/c i swear, just when i think i’ve seem *all* of them, i find a new one perched on our fence, skulking in our alley (tho i try to spend as little time as possible there since i was propositioned by a daytime (female) hooker who was smoking something in a metal pipe and asked me if i had a husband and what my name was. pls, i know, i know) or peering at me just under the roman shades covering our back french doors (and scaring the s**t outta me in the process).

i have alotta cat lover friends, so i’m going to try not to get too mean in describing my frustration w/these friggin felines. but i will say that i’m going to call animal control stat. if  you know me and you’re reading this and want to adopt one, well c’mon on over! i’m sure if you hang around long enough (and are fast enough. those suckers can ruuun) you can grab one and take it on home. good luck w/that, tho. good friggin luck.

we’ve had some rough nights since we moved to baltimore

some worse than others. for example, our second night in our newly renovated (once-boarded-up-honest-to-goodness-crackhouse) house, a car, um, blew up a couple hundred feet away. i’m not talking, like, a little car fire or anything. i’m talkin a full-on CSI/90210-oh-my-GOSH-dylan’s-FATHER-was-in-that-car!!!  fireball with a sonic boom that literally made us think our heater blew up in the basement.

i stick my head out one of our two street-facing bedroom windows, suddenly feeling very, oh, let’s just say…trashy (i was rockin my “nighttime” hairdo, i.e. a rat’s nest; all i needed was a cigarette hanging off my lips, hairnet and moomoo) and i’m like, “not out here!” holly runs to the back of our house and suddenly yells ”OHMYGOSHCALLTHEFIREDEPARTMENT!” yeah. about 200 feet off our deck is said fireball. more firetrucks than i have ever seen at once come screaming in, as do the cops. there’s so much fire extinguisher liquid chemical stuff being sprayed on this thing that it’s running down the street like a mini stream (straight into the chesapeake bay c/o of our storm drains! nice!). soon, the emergency crews are peering into the charred car with flashlights looking for a body (they didn’t find one. thank GOODNESS). i’m like, what the EFF. is this, like, an everyday occurance?  our neighbors shrugged about it. um yeah. 

i hadn’t even had a chance to shake that off (i tend to need time to “shake things off”) when, a few nights later, we’re in bed and we hear…a drill. we’re like omG someone’s trying to drill off the locks and break into our house! so i whisper to holly, scared outta my gourd, should we press the police button? (we have a really serious security system) and she’s like, yeah, in a whisper. so i jump outta bed in my peejays and hit the button. our siren goes off, brink’s security calls, SENDTHEPOLICE i tell them! soon there are two big police guys downstairs and they’re like nope. nothing. they were really nice about it. to this day, holly and i are sure we heard a drill that night. since we were still in the renovation stage, we had a *lot* of drills around the house. but we still can’t figure out how a drill went off w/out one of us pressing the button or w/out it falling off a counter or something. [if i believed in ghosts i'd be like, it was a ghost of hookers past (apparently a "lady of the night" once lived in our house) or something. but no. i'm not even going to go there.]

then there was The Night of a Thousand Mice. which is a whole nother thing. and oh YEAH, also that night we almost got poisoned by carbon monoxide! [illegal occupants of the vacant house next door didn't have heat or electricity so they were staying warm, cooking and you know, running a *tv* w/propane tanks, which pumped their house full of carbon monxide, which quickly seeped thru the brick walls into our house and if it weren't for our carbon monoxide dectector (get one if you don't have one. srsly.) we'd all be dead. ] 

jump ahead a year+ to last night. last night was a doozie. around 3am we hear what sounds like moaning or crying. maybe a woman? we call the cops. (there’s no telling if they actually showed or not. sometimes we call and they’re no-shows. and i say again: nice!) we hear it again. then some banging on the walls? it stops. shortly thereafter we hear something fall downstairs. we looked at each other like: ohmygosh.

i grab holly’s police stick (hey, she was in the military and we have a police stick next to the bed.) and she’s putting on sneakers and looks at me, “well? are you coming or am i going by myself?” (yes, i was scared and stalling.) we creep downstairs, not knowing what the hell we’re gonna find and….

and…..?

and it was an ikea plastic shopping bag holder. you know, the kind w/all the holes in it that you stick on the wall. yeah. it fell off the wall. geeeeeeeeeeeeez. we breathe out. go back upstairs and watch bbc america’s “you are what you eat” for like two hours (if you’ve ever seen that show, you know it’s really hard to stop watching. like rubbernecking on the highway. exactly.) the comic relief of the night was that when we got back upstairs, holly starts laughing when she sees herself in the mirror. she threw on a polo shirt over her pjs before we went downstairs and apparently, the collar was popped. (accidentally. we have a firm no-collar-popping rule in our household.) hahah. well, if there was someone downstairs and the police stick didn’t scare em away, the popped collar def. would have done it, she said. hahaha.

ahh, baltimore. now i see where my neighbors were coming from back when that car exploded. gotta just shrug it off. gotta laugh or you’ll just cry yr friggin eyes out.  (or just sit in the corner and rock yourself back n forth. that’s always an option, too.)

does anyone really splash cold water on their face in public bathrooms when they’re upset?

like they do in the movies? ijs and ijw (wondering).

srsly. while i can’t name more than a couple movies that feature this at this very moment (and truly there are far too many to even name), i see it all the time.

i thought of this last night as we watched the crudely funny “my best friend’s girl” [which i recommend if you don't get offended easily, and yes, it's funny. and no, i would've never seen it if holly hadn't grabbed it off the blockbuster shelf sat. night w/all the force of a thousand five-year-olds ("yesssss! this is the one i was telling you about!" oh she's so cute. love you, hunny!)] and the main guy, whassis name…dane cook (who i can’t help but like after this movie even tho he made me mad in ”dan in real life“) gets upset about something or other and then all the sudden, lo and behold! there he is in a restroom, splashing cold water on his face trying to knock some sense back into himself.

i don’t know about you, but when i get upset, it takes a whole lot more than a little cold water on my face to make me feel better. (sadly, i don’t drink. but coffee helps sometimes, as does fresh air or venting to poor holly until she tells me, “honey, you’re making me anxious. can you pls stop?” haha.) and hell, anyway, if you’re a woman (or a man; hey, ijs) who typically wears make-up, then you’ll be with me on the following: hell-to-the-no if i’m gonna ruin my bare escentuals with some random splash of water! and then you haveta wipe off with some crinkly, weird-smelling paper towels that leave lint and red spots–and yes, a weird odor–on your face.

i know: the movies aren’t reality. but with so many ppl in ‘em splashin cold water on their faces, you’d think everyone did it. maybe they do. do you? in any case, ijn (i just noticed) and iwjtaw (i was just thinking and wondering). apu (as per usual).

[and no. we haven't caught any mice. yet. remind me one day to tell you a real-life story i like to call "The Night of a Thousand Mice." all true. (well, not a thousand. but a lot.) pinky swear.]

mice: 1, us: zero

oh fer cryin out LOUD can you just leave us ALONE?!!!

i really didn’t want to talk too much about this issue but i can’t hold back any longer:

the mice have taken over. they’re holding us hostage in our house. they’re demanding cheese and peanut butter and assorted crumbs and they’re not leaving until they get them.

ok, i’m over-dramatizing things. (they recently freed our hands but we’re still tied to our chairs.)  but it’s bad. we don’t understand where they’re coming from. or how they’re getting in. but it’s like, as soon as you kill one (yes. we kill them. if you have a problem with this, you should probably stop reading now), there’s five more. they don’t care who’s around or visiting or if you’re eating lunch, just reading a book, minding your own business. they scamper right on out onto our bamboo floors as if to say, “eff you. we’re baltimore mice. and even tho we don’t help pay your mortgage, we’re gonna hang around as long as we damn well please so you’d better get used to it and go to hell while you’re at it.”

there’s also a cat (or something big that definitely sounds like it has paws) in the wall and/or ceiling. and it crawls around, esp. at night when holly’s at class, and scares the sh*t outta me. i cannot take any more of this. i. am losing. my mind. [and pul-leeze don't tell us to get a cat. yeah, we kind of don't (read: really really don't) like cats. yes, we're gay and female in a long-term relationship and we have no cats. neither one of us has ever had a single cat. see? stereotypes were made to be broken. i also don't own a single pair of boat shoes or chinos. so there.]

the whole situation makes me wonder how i ever EVER had hamsters as pets. they’re RODENTS. mice are rodents, TOO. as are *rats* [oh pls, don't get me started on baltimore (and DC while we're at it) and rats] man, i had a patient mother. mice are disgusting and, as i said earlier this weekend, if i could, i’d destroy every single mouse on the planet.

mice, if you’re reading, you’d better watch out. we’re coming for you and it’s gonna get ugly. this is war.

what’s with all the frowning politicians???

have you noticed?

gov. o'malley frowning. why so sad?? shux.

ok, i think we all know why he's frowning. wait, mister, did you just eat half your face?

no explanation needed here. (hey, go back to whoville! dr. seuss is lookin for ya!)

as per usual: i’m just saying.

happy fryday!!! woohooooo!

i think i have a crush on my Wii trainer

what? my balance is good? aww *blush* thanks!!! (ok actually? i have no idea what she's saying here b/c clearly it's not in english. it's just the best pic i could find.) (hi! see you tonight!!! can't wait!)

no, i definitely do.

i don’t know her name (and i don’t think she knows mine). and it’s not the way she looks (tho she is fit in a…mechanical kind of way). it’s that voice! omg it’s like…velvet. a hot soy latte on a blustery day. wooooh boy! baby baby.

i must clarify that this is my Wii Fit trainer. you know the nintendo game thingy where you run around your living room like a maniac swinging a remote, which is actually a tennis racket. or a bowling ball. or golf club or baseball bat. we got the system from holly’s parents for xmas along with this Wii Fit board. i was a bit wary of it at first (after all, the last time i played video games was the original super mario bros. like…back in the late 80s? yeah i saved up the $113 for it myself and played til my tiny thumbs hurt). but once i tried it (THANK YOU, CHRISTINA! are you reading?! love ya!) i was impressed.

so, in a nutshell, you can do all these aerobic/strength/balance/yoga exercises. and for the strength and balance sections, you choose a trainer: male or female. now, i know what you’re thinking! that homo, she probably chose the girl. oh but you are WRONG, my friends! i chose the guy. (i prefer male trainers, male hairdressers, male bosses, male colleagues; sorry, girls, but you know we can all be a pain in the ass and i can’t deal w/the friggin drama) i decided to switch it up earlier this week w/the female trainer and…yeah.

we were doing yoga together (siiiigh) last night, and i was like, hotDAMN i can’t deny it any longer! i cannot deny my feelings! oh Wii trainer, i love how you compliment my balance even when it’s way off. i love how you tell me i must have good posture (even tho i probably don’t). i love all your encouragement. most of all, i love that sexpot voice. rrrrrrrrrrrar! see you tonight!  don’t tell holly!

grandma would have been 100 today

and lemme tell you, i can say with great certainty that she’d be mad as hell.

if you’ve been reading this blog for the past few months, you know i was extremely close with my late grandma. she passed away eight years ago (it’ll be nine this august). she was born february 13, 1909. so this would have been her 100th birthday (!).

grandma, if you’re getting the internet version of the Heaven Newsletter (you probably are), i want to wish you a happy 100th. and i want you to know that even tho you’re not technically here, and you never really wanted to (read: didn’t) make it to 100 in the first place, i am very much thinking about you today. well, to be honest, i think about you a whole lot every day. (but i think that’s in the newsletter, too.) and even tho it breaks my heart that you’re not with us anymore, i’m relieved that you don’t have to deal with all that elderly “crap,” as you would have called it. plus all the, yes, even tho you told me not to say it, bastards, down here. (oh, and there are quite a few of them.) i couldn’t really think of a way to mark this day. but i figured a lasting tribute on the internet would do just fine.

to all my readers, my apologies i’ve been less than…what’s the word i’m looking for…well, i haven’t really been around. not writing so much. i guess i’ve just been feeling uninspired. just bogged down by the weight of the daily grind and everything that comes with it. (prolific! that’s the word i was thinking of.)

and to my late grandma…oh, grandma. happy 100th! thank G-d you were born. thank G-d you were in my life for as long as you were! i will brew a pot of coffee (in the perculator you gave me) tonight and toast a piping hot cup in your honor. i hope you have a permanent seat next to the unlimited pickle/olive/potato salad/cheese danish/lox/bagel/cream cheese bar in heaven. and that you’re smoking all the unfiltered pall malls you want. b/c, after 100 years, you sure as hell deserve it. love you!

 

figures i’d like the gay one

my interest in boys peaked around middle school and let me tell you who i was ga-ga over: jonathan knight. from new kids on the block. (yes, this dates me. but whatever! i’m 30 and proud.) you know the one: brother of jordan knight; quiet, sensitive type?

omG how i loved him. (tho 80s jon bon jovi was my all-time #1; more on him some other day) and now word has finally gotten out that he’s a big ol homo. (just like me, for all those new readers that think i’m, haha, a homophobe. in fact i’m a homophile.) 

gossip blogger perez hilton got word out in august (tho of course i missed it at the time), and now knight’s ex is selling pics of the two. (nice, huh? geez.)

i can’t help but laugh. it figures i’d like the gay one.

my gay-ex-wanna-be-never-been lover, jonathan knight: third from left, the tall one w/the swoopy hair next to danny who everyone at school said looked like a monkey. omG look at their hair! whY??!!

 

 

 

 

 

(ok, w/that dog, i  totally coulda called it.)

 

he’s turned out to be a really handsome grown man, too. i wonder if him and doogie hang out? with lance bass? and clay aiken?? haha.