Life in the Big City

It's driving me nuts that I can't find my copy, and it's been missing so long that I have no idea if I've lent it to anyone. Help?

Three Seconds

That's exactly how long it took for news of Patrick Swayze's death for that gawd-awful Dirty Dancing theme to get stuck in my head. My parents LOVED that movie when it came out, and constantly played the soundtrack.

I'd like to thank Led Zeppelin & Black Sabbath for being the steel wool scraping through my mental ears and delivering me to sanity (such as it is).

Odd timing

Just before I told my folks about Jill, they told me about my sister's divorce. Nine years, gone, just like that. She's apparently met the man of her dreams: a 35 year old divorcee with a 15 year old daughter.

I don't know any other details. I feel bad for my (ex) bro-in-law. Their relationship was the most stable thing in his life. Of course, the kids will have a hard time, too.

Meet the Parents

Well, more like future in-laws, but you get the point.

No, I haven't formally proposed to Jill yet, but we've already discussed the names of our children, where we're going to live, and how the reception menu has to be certified Parve and held on a Sunday.

Granted, this is all a few years in to the future. Jill got fired a couple of weeks ago, from an atrocious and toxic environment: a law firm. She'd been there nearly eight years. One Wednesday night, they said, "if you don't work overtime tonight, you won't have a job tomorrow."

Ignoring the wimpy, passive-aggressive ultimatum, Jill has classes a few times a week. They cost more than the overtime pay would cover. She made it clear that she couldn't stay late. "What part of 'I'm single and in my 30s' don't they understand?" There are so many other factors that went into their decision: underlying (and sometimes blatant) racism, classism, gender bias, etc, etc, etc.

Back to the main story. Her parents flew in from California a couple days ago, and took us out to dinner last night at probably the most expensive vegan restaurant I'd ever been in. "Dad" is a retired Air Force Lt. Col. On 9/11, he plotted the flight path of Air Force One. "Mom" is a school teacher with training in psychology. "Mom" is also a chocoholic. We shared desserts.

They were funny, kind, laid-back, and generous. I felt so comfortable with them, and really adore them.

I guess I should tell my parents about Jill soon, right? I just never know how to tell them anything. It might as well be the topic for therapy tomorrow.

I hate my job.

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Jill

So, ah...it would seem that I have a girlfriend.

We started corresponding mid-October, and met up a month later. We were both listed under "seeking friends only", so there was no tension that dating usually provides.

Over the past month, things began to shift towards something more than friendship. We started talking about our bizarre dating misfortunes, our reasons for not dating, what we're trying to change about ourselves, etc., etc. She saw the potential for what we could be together, but wasn't sure if I was interested or not, so she didn't say anything, at least not directly. I began wondering the same thing, but was too afraid of screwing up yet another friendship. This escalated when we went on the town for her birthday two weeks ago. Looking back, I could feel that we both wanted more.

Jill came over Saturday to help move a few things over to Lynne's, where she got to meet her and Bowie. Afterward, we went grocery shopping, paying close attention to her dietary restrictions (vegan, celiac disease, allergies to tomatoes, oranges, sesame). We made a very good pizza (using red peppers instead of tomatoes for the sauce). She also bought a bottle of 80-proof Liquid Courage, aka tequila. We cooked, ate, and started watching the Bourne Identity. She got very comfortable on my bed, and I sat in my chair.

Pressing the issue of us, she asked, "what would it take for you to drink straight from the bottle? Doing a shot from my belly button?"

My brain fried.

"Oh no, I broke Jeff!" and she held my hand. Then I kissed her.

She spent the night, and most of the next day. We did go back to Lynne's for a couple hours while Lynne waited for people to pick up stuff offered on Craigslist. It was 8:30 PM when we realized just how late it was. It took another 90 minutes to actually separate; we both lamented that the next day was a 'school day'.

My therapist was right when she said, "you get to be happy now."

Thoughts on Late Night TV

I'm terribly conflicted now that Conan O'Brien has taken over the Tonight Show. I love Conan. I love Dave. I love Andy Richter. But I freaking hate Paul Shaffer. More specifically, I hate his attempts at comedy. His "bantering" with Dave kills brain cells.

Also: I love Craig Ferguson. I hate Jimmy Fallon, but I love the Roots. And I really don't care about Jimmy Kimmel.

Moving Again

I'm moving in with Lynne and Kemp at the end of June. I'll handle most of the moving myself over the next few weekends. Here's the planned schedule:

June 6th/7th: Move all comics boxes, toys, old stereo, non-essential electronics, and CDs. (Won't be going to MoCCA this year.)

June 13th/14th: Move all books, artwork & supplies, most DVDs, and everything else from under the bed.

June 20th/21st: Move kitchen stuff, home theater stuff (not the tv, though!), lamps, smaller furniture.

June 27th/28th: Everything else. Pro movers will handle the bed, bookcases, TV, A/C, dresser, etc. I'll take care of the computer the night before.

If you want to help out (keep me company while I walk the 18 blocks back & forth with a huge hand truck, making sure stuff doesn't spill off, fending off zombie pirate ninja gorilla attacks, etc), you'll be greatly appreciated. I'll need the most help unpacking on the 28th, though. For anyone who wants to sort through all my crap, it would be a field day.

Goodbye, Tasha

My folks adopted Tasha shortly after I left for college, between Thanksgiving & Christmas of 1996. They had an empty nest, so it was time to get a dog. While it wasn't intentional, they got a black lab to replace the son who dressed all in black.

I met her just before Christmas when I came home. She was just over a year old at the time, rather protective & paranoid. When I walked through the door, she leapt off the couch, ready to attack the stranger. I put out my hand; she recognized the scent from my old room, and instantly became mellow and affectionate.

Tasha had an innate understanding of reciprocal affection. She'd be lying in Mom's chair (as seen in the picture), and if you sat down on the floor and started to pet her, she'd try to wrap her arm around yours. And once she knew who you were, she was always excited to see you. If she saw two people hugging ("bye, Mom, see you next year"), she'd run up, bark, and try to get in on the hug, too.

Tasha was also a bit rambunctious. The squeaky "human foot" toy was her favorite (outside of the rawhide chews, of course), and would follow it wherever you moved it. She loved play fighting, and knew exactly when to stop.

As is natural, she started slowing down in the past couple of years. Her hearing & sight deteriorated. There was a close call in January, where she wouldn't get up and had trouble eating. Mom got her to eat some baby food & aspirin, and that got her up. But a day or two ago, she just stopped moving around, and had no interest in food.

Tasha died this morning. She wasn't in any pain. She had a good, long, happy life, and because of her, so will we.

Well, Shit.

They've cut the department hours to 35/week. I won't turn down the opportunity to get another hour of sleep every day, but that means I will look for a second job, or a better first job.