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Ex-cons, drug dealers, petty thieves, and cats.
Logan's new hang-out is the top of the ledge surrounding our kitchen. I searched the whole house for 15 minutes before I realized he was serenely perched watching me the whole time. Ah, cats. When he finally came down, he was covered in dust from slinking through every nook and cranny up there.
For a week we had noticed he smelled kind of perfumey, like a beauty salon -- a fragrance quite incongruous with his scrappy tomcat appearance. We eventually figured out it was because he was dragging his big tomcat tail through the incense diffuser oil and wafting it around as he walked.
This cat is a feather duster and an air freshener in one, making him twice as useful as most of the other creatures in this house, including the humans.
~*~
This is Tery's last weekend in the hoosgow (from the Spanish juzgado, as I learned when she made me look it up). The first weekend she was terrified. She wept almost the whole way there. I told her not to cry or they'd know she was fresh meat. I reassured her it was only fear of the unknown; once she knew what to expect it wouldn't be nearly as bad. I was right.
Her hard time started 8 am Saturday morning and ended 4 pm Sunday evening. She was in a pod system with 6 other women, some of whom were also "weekenders," others who were actual full-time inmates. The full-timers had a lot of resentment and contempt towards the weekenders, until Tery, bored out of her mind, picked up a broom to tidy up, earning their respect and friendship.
As you'd expect, the most punitive aspect of jail, unless you're in the general population, isn't the fear of getting shanked or avoiding daily riots, but pure boredom. Cell phones and personal books aren't allowed. They provide reading material, mostly of the popular culture, Danielle Steele variety. In fact, one woman brought in a self-help book which was confiscated. No bettering yourself in here! You're being punished!
That and the food. From her description I'd probably go hungry for two days. I'm a picky eater when the food is edible. The worst was corn bread that bizarrely seemed to revert back to raw dough as she chewed it.
The part I would be the most afraid of, the toilet arrangements, was actually a cubicle with a privacy curtain. We were both picturing a toilet seat stuck in the middle of the room for everyone to watch. Not so bad, except for pooping. But since I wouldn't be eating, that wouldn't be an issue either.
But her punishment has been my reward. The first weekend was hell because when I got home from the hospital after the animals had been alone all night, they were were wide awake and in full melee cage match mode. These past two weekends I wasn't needed on Saturday, giving me a luxurious night/morning all to myself at home (and much calmer animals).
This Saturday night wasn't quite so luxurious though, because after nearly two months of more or less behaving, Tracey's dogs made their unwelcome nighttime reappearance until 3:00 in the a.m. (Oh, I might not have mentioned: She finally had a hearing with the City, where presumably they explained to her about noise laws and how most people like to sleep at night, and how we weren't just being harpy bitches. We had hoped this would solve the problem forever. Nothing's forever, Virginia.)
I spent all that time composing my complaint to the HOA. Unbeknownst to me, someone else was even more upset. That someone for some reason came ringing MY doorbell at about 3:10 a.m.
"Is this Tracey that lives next to you?" she asked me. I had no idea how she knew her name but I'm not my sharpest at 3 a.m. so I didn't ask.
"Yes it is. As well as her dogs," I said slightly louder, as they were barking ferociously on the other side of the door at that moment.
"Can I come in and use your phone to call the police?" I explained it wouldn't do her any good, they wouldn't come (I've called before. They say it's a matter for Animal Control, who won't do anything until Monday morning). She didn't care though. "I'll go back and use my cell phone. I'm calling the police and telling them she's got a meth lab!" this last was said very loudly directly at Tracey's door.
Highly suspiciously, the dogs had gone silent, and in fact I didn't hear another peep for the rest of the night. This strongly suggests to me she was in there listening to our exchange, though why she let the dogs run rampant for so long into the night is anyone's guess. MY guess is either a.) she just didn't care or b.) she was doped up and passed out. Neither option makes me very happy.
Not helping her case is the fact we've noticed she now parks across the street in the strip plaza and hoofs it back and forth. Hard to imagine a reason for this other than she's trying to conceal her comings and goings. It's all verrrrrrry shifty.
~*~
Apparently someone else who is shifty is all of Tery's employees (I love me a good segue).
An elderly woman who Tery described as "a little unstable" (and not in the ambulatory sense of the word) brought her dog in. The dog was elderly too and needed significant assistance from staff to get it downstairs.
The problem started after she left. Her husband had died the month before, leaving her two pendants set with black opals or some other semi-precious, not terribly valuable stone. She had attached one of them to the dog's collar and after her visit noticed the stone was missing. She was inconsolable to Tery on the phone, threatening to bring in the police, etc, etc.
Let me tell you, if my husband had left me something of such high sentimental value, you know the last thing I would do with it? Stick it on a goddamn dog collar.
Tery, being the excellent manager she is, talked her down and promised to search for it. She spent the whole afternoon combing the parking lot, which unfortunately is lined with a lot of black gravel. She called the woman back with the news. She was a little more reasonable, but ended the conversation with a warning to Tery to keep a closer eye on her employees.
There are about five people downstairs at any given time, and believe me, it's not such a big place that someone prying loose a piece of costume jewelry is going to go unnoticed. Unless they were all in it and planned to split the profits. I made Tery laugh by imagining that scene: "Here's what we'll do -- we've got this sweet rock and we're gonna sell it, see? Then we'll allllll be rich and we can leave this joint once and for all, see?" (We amuse each other highly by talking like old-time gangsters from black and white films. We get bonus points if we manage to incorporate the phrase "get-away sticks" which we once heard someone call their legs.)
Now if the woman had jewelry made of cheeseburgers and donuts, I'd say she might have a case.
~*~
Lastly, some very quick and nonspoilery movie reviews:
Observe and Report: Makes Paul Blart: Mall Cop look like an Oscar contender. In fact, I started out afraid it was going to be a direct rip-off of Blart. I finished wishing it were more like Blart. Paul Blart with F-bombs and Seth Rogen's voice which annoys the hell out of me. Although Patton Oswalt as a tyrannical little restaurant manager was kind of funny.
I Tivo'ed these next two movies and ended up liking the exact opposite of what I expected.
What Happens in Vegas had a very promising premise: Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher have a wild drunken night in Vegas, wake up married and realize they hate each other. Just as they storm off for a divorce, her slot machine (dirty) hits the jackpot of 3 millllllion dollars. Judge Dennis Miller sentences them to make the marriage work (in a highly overdue speech about how the sanctity of marriage isn't threatened by gays nearly as much as by Vegas fly-by-night weddings, loved it). The challenge becomes who can drive the other off first by being more intolerable. Unfortunately it goes down the road of predictable and banal: they end up falling in love for real (evidently after just one weekend work retreat), yeah, totz didn't see THAT coming.
On the other hand, Yes Man was a hit. Jim Carrey obeys life guru Terence Stamp and starts saying yes to everything. Wackiness ensues. But not the usual "Jim Carrey throwing himself against a wall for a laugh" wackiness, which is why I liked it. That and lovable Murray from "Flight of the Conchords" was his boss, which was a huge check in the plus column. Carrey's love interest was vacant-eyed Zoey Deschanel which would normally be a negative, but she wasn't that bad. And for once, a case where I can't say necessarily the book was better -- it was based on it (loosely) but of course more filmic and cohesive. The fact it had a Harry Potter theme party didn't influence my opinion in the slightest.
For a week we had noticed he smelled kind of perfumey, like a beauty salon -- a fragrance quite incongruous with his scrappy tomcat appearance. We eventually figured out it was because he was dragging his big tomcat tail through the incense diffuser oil and wafting it around as he walked.
This cat is a feather duster and an air freshener in one, making him twice as useful as most of the other creatures in this house, including the humans.
~*~
This is Tery's last weekend in the hoosgow (from the Spanish juzgado, as I learned when she made me look it up). The first weekend she was terrified. She wept almost the whole way there. I told her not to cry or they'd know she was fresh meat. I reassured her it was only fear of the unknown; once she knew what to expect it wouldn't be nearly as bad. I was right.
Her hard time started 8 am Saturday morning and ended 4 pm Sunday evening. She was in a pod system with 6 other women, some of whom were also "weekenders," others who were actual full-time inmates. The full-timers had a lot of resentment and contempt towards the weekenders, until Tery, bored out of her mind, picked up a broom to tidy up, earning their respect and friendship.
As you'd expect, the most punitive aspect of jail, unless you're in the general population, isn't the fear of getting shanked or avoiding daily riots, but pure boredom. Cell phones and personal books aren't allowed. They provide reading material, mostly of the popular culture, Danielle Steele variety. In fact, one woman brought in a self-help book which was confiscated. No bettering yourself in here! You're being punished!
That and the food. From her description I'd probably go hungry for two days. I'm a picky eater when the food is edible. The worst was corn bread that bizarrely seemed to revert back to raw dough as she chewed it.
The part I would be the most afraid of, the toilet arrangements, was actually a cubicle with a privacy curtain. We were both picturing a toilet seat stuck in the middle of the room for everyone to watch. Not so bad, except for pooping. But since I wouldn't be eating, that wouldn't be an issue either.
But her punishment has been my reward. The first weekend was hell because when I got home from the hospital after the animals had been alone all night, they were were wide awake and in full melee cage match mode. These past two weekends I wasn't needed on Saturday, giving me a luxurious night/morning all to myself at home (and much calmer animals).
This Saturday night wasn't quite so luxurious though, because after nearly two months of more or less behaving, Tracey's dogs made their unwelcome nighttime reappearance until 3:00 in the a.m. (Oh, I might not have mentioned: She finally had a hearing with the City, where presumably they explained to her about noise laws and how most people like to sleep at night, and how we weren't just being harpy bitches. We had hoped this would solve the problem forever. Nothing's forever, Virginia.)
I spent all that time composing my complaint to the HOA. Unbeknownst to me, someone else was even more upset. That someone for some reason came ringing MY doorbell at about 3:10 a.m.
"Is this Tracey that lives next to you?" she asked me. I had no idea how she knew her name but I'm not my sharpest at 3 a.m. so I didn't ask.
"Yes it is. As well as her dogs," I said slightly louder, as they were barking ferociously on the other side of the door at that moment.
"Can I come in and use your phone to call the police?" I explained it wouldn't do her any good, they wouldn't come (I've called before. They say it's a matter for Animal Control, who won't do anything until Monday morning). She didn't care though. "I'll go back and use my cell phone. I'm calling the police and telling them she's got a meth lab!" this last was said very loudly directly at Tracey's door.
Highly suspiciously, the dogs had gone silent, and in fact I didn't hear another peep for the rest of the night. This strongly suggests to me she was in there listening to our exchange, though why she let the dogs run rampant for so long into the night is anyone's guess. MY guess is either a.) she just didn't care or b.) she was doped up and passed out. Neither option makes me very happy.
Not helping her case is the fact we've noticed she now parks across the street in the strip plaza and hoofs it back and forth. Hard to imagine a reason for this other than she's trying to conceal her comings and goings. It's all verrrrrrry shifty.
~*~
Apparently someone else who is shifty is all of Tery's employees (I love me a good segue).
An elderly woman who Tery described as "a little unstable" (and not in the ambulatory sense of the word) brought her dog in. The dog was elderly too and needed significant assistance from staff to get it downstairs.
The problem started after she left. Her husband had died the month before, leaving her two pendants set with black opals or some other semi-precious, not terribly valuable stone. She had attached one of them to the dog's collar and after her visit noticed the stone was missing. She was inconsolable to Tery on the phone, threatening to bring in the police, etc, etc.
Let me tell you, if my husband had left me something of such high sentimental value, you know the last thing I would do with it? Stick it on a goddamn dog collar.
Tery, being the excellent manager she is, talked her down and promised to search for it. She spent the whole afternoon combing the parking lot, which unfortunately is lined with a lot of black gravel. She called the woman back with the news. She was a little more reasonable, but ended the conversation with a warning to Tery to keep a closer eye on her employees.
There are about five people downstairs at any given time, and believe me, it's not such a big place that someone prying loose a piece of costume jewelry is going to go unnoticed. Unless they were all in it and planned to split the profits. I made Tery laugh by imagining that scene: "Here's what we'll do -- we've got this sweet rock and we're gonna sell it, see? Then we'll allllll be rich and we can leave this joint once and for all, see?" (We amuse each other highly by talking like old-time gangsters from black and white films. We get bonus points if we manage to incorporate the phrase "get-away sticks" which we once heard someone call their legs.)
Now if the woman had jewelry made of cheeseburgers and donuts, I'd say she might have a case.
~*~
Lastly, some very quick and nonspoilery movie reviews:
Observe and Report: Makes Paul Blart: Mall Cop look like an Oscar contender. In fact, I started out afraid it was going to be a direct rip-off of Blart. I finished wishing it were more like Blart. Paul Blart with F-bombs and Seth Rogen's voice which annoys the hell out of me. Although Patton Oswalt as a tyrannical little restaurant manager was kind of funny.
I Tivo'ed these next two movies and ended up liking the exact opposite of what I expected.
What Happens in Vegas had a very promising premise: Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher have a wild drunken night in Vegas, wake up married and realize they hate each other. Just as they storm off for a divorce, her slot machine (dirty) hits the jackpot of 3 millllllion dollars. Judge Dennis Miller sentences them to make the marriage work (in a highly overdue speech about how the sanctity of marriage isn't threatened by gays nearly as much as by Vegas fly-by-night weddings, loved it). The challenge becomes who can drive the other off first by being more intolerable. Unfortunately it goes down the road of predictable and banal: they end up falling in love for real (evidently after just one weekend work retreat), yeah, totz didn't see THAT coming.
On the other hand, Yes Man was a hit. Jim Carrey obeys life guru Terence Stamp and starts saying yes to everything. Wackiness ensues. But not the usual "Jim Carrey throwing himself against a wall for a laugh" wackiness, which is why I liked it. That and lovable Murray from "Flight of the Conchords" was his boss, which was a huge check in the plus column. Carrey's love interest was vacant-eyed Zoey Deschanel which would normally be a negative, but she wasn't that bad. And for once, a case where I can't say necessarily the book was better -- it was based on it (loosely) but of course more filmic and cohesive. The fact it had a Harry Potter theme party didn't influence my opinion in the slightest.
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This is pretty awesome. It has the makings of an inspiring jailhouse drama. Unfortunately "The Cleaner" is already the title of a TV show.
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You dirty rat
"Me and Boysie was just standin' here, see? And then a... a... a... a great big dog came by and brushed da milk carton with his tail, see? Yeah, dat's what happened. Den da milk carton fell on da floor and splashed me and Boysie, see? And we was covered in milk, see? An'... an'... an'... an' we had to take all our clothes off 'cuz... 'cuz... 'cuz... 'cuz dried milk smells awful, see?"
Et cetera. Et cetera...
Re: You dirty rat
Boysie LOL
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This always terrified me about prison. Even in exciting movies set in jail, the plot stretches across years and is tucked into a two hour running time.
A precious memento stored on a collar? If my wife left me something of sentimental value, I'd store it somewhere safe, like on top of one of the blades of the ceiling fan.
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I've always found it exceedingly difficult to feel sympathy for stupid people.
Although on second thought the old jeweler stored the galaxy on his cat's collar in "Men in Black."
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Random and unrelated, but with all my crap lately I keep thinking about Tery and how glad I am she got through her stuff and I wanted to just check-in and ask you if she's still doing well and the pills really did help her. I guess what with nothing I've tried helping me yet it's hard sometimes to have hope and believe that this IS an illness that I can sort out and not just.. me. Being pathetic.
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I know there's hope for you, Jemma. Tery was lucky to get her meds right on the second try, but there are a ton of anti-depressants out there and I've done reports on patients who go through a lot more before finding the right one. They're definitely still working for her. She was doing so well I asked if she thought she still needed them. She knows she does, because she knows she still has the underlying chemical imbalance. She also hates the idea of being dependent on drugs, but I don't think she would trade the energy and love of life she's rediscovered while on them for anything.
The hardest part for her was having to admit to herself there was something wrong with her brain. But once she heard both her brother and sister were on meds it was easier, since that suggested a genetic component and not failure on her part (Tery has always been brutally hard on herself, sometimes holding herself to impossible standards. You can imagine how her DUI and sentence makes her feel).
I don't know a lot about clinical depression, but my favorite site is yahooanswers.com where you can search for questions and even ask your own, and they get answered by real people. It's enormously helpful for just about anything you have questions about, and a good place to read about some people's real life experiences.
I think the most important thing is you've started seeking help. I know it sounds cliched and all, but I think that's the hardest part. What will work for you might take some more work to find, but I know you will. I absolutely don't think it's you being "pathetic." *hugs*
(Where is your icon from? I don't remember that episode)
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http://www.facebook.com/#!/album.php?page=1&aid=17319&id=560047054 <-- new album of the kitties Aimz put on facebook, I'm not sure if it's public or not so you might be able to see it.
*big hugs back* I'm trying to have hope. Like I've said before, it's kind of... nice.. to hear from the doctors that I do have clinical depression because it means there is something going on that's NOT me being unable to cope with life. But after trying so many meds and nothing working it's difficult to hang on. Yet I also know that you're absolutely right, so many people go through way more meds than me before they find one. It's just annoying that any friends whom I've found out have gone through it happened to find hte right one first time. That's great for them but makes me a little bitter. lol
I am glad Tery is still doing well. She's totally right about still needing them though. I'm way past the worries of havign to be dependant on drugs. I didn't like that idea in the first place either but if I finally do find one that works I don't think I'll worry too much about having to take it, if it works. But they do say that if you find hte right one you probably will start feeling so good you'll think you don't need them anymore and many people stop taking them then and have a big ol' crash. The minimum you're supposed to keep taking them once you feel better is for 6 months and then I've also heard that if it's been a severe case, like mine then staying on them for 5 years is a good idea. So if not all your life they're definitely something you just need to accept you'll be on long-term. I think I've accepted that now.
But yeah, whenever I had little fights with Jess about thinking she might need help too (because sometimes if she got angry enough she'd let slip in a sarcastic way that maybe she had a problem) she absolutely refused to see anyone about it because she didn't want to be put on meds and she 'could handle it herself'. But yeah.. *Sigh* That's one of the reasons that relationship wasn't good for me, I guess. I need to get over my own problems and not worry about hers if she refuses to seek help.
I'm going to sort myself out, I swear it. It's just hard some days. Most days I just feel like I'm passing time and have no purpose, yet I can't find a purpose because I have no motivation towards anything. Hopefully when I find the right med it really will lift my mood enough to make things seem interesting and then I can get myself going and pull myself out of this. That's what the doctors etc seem to think, anyway. They can see I'm trying but I'm just not well enough to do it myself yet.
And about hte icon, I actually don't know. lol I do remember seeing the episode. Giles went through a mid-life crisis and bought a shiny red sports car, but I don't remember what seasons it was or the title.
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In my imagination everything goes swimmingly, except that on the last day she comes back with a tear tattoo on her face.
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Also, that thing about the old woman with the pendants with the opals is crazy! Who would put something of such value on a dog collar? I mean I feel terrible for her if someone swiped it, but I have a hard time not laying the blame on her for putting it in such a careless location in the first place. Good grief.
So, I, um...there's something I wanna tell you, and I hope you don't think it's weird. I can't write about it on my ell jay because the person in question is on my F-list. Buuuut...lately I've been having curiosities about the female side of the Force. I've become friends with this girl who is bi (she's more girly around guys, and more butch around girls), and she's got me all confused and curious...I feel like Natasha Lyonne in But I'm a Cheerleader, and she's Clea DuVall. LoL. She knows about this, as I have told her, and she has no problem with it (thankfully). But I just feel like such a late bloomer...most people go through this "experimental" thing in college, I believe. Plus she's four years younger than me, so it's giving me that whole "first time jitters" feeling all over again. Bah.
Anyway...enough of that. LoL. One more thing: Thank you for what you wrote on one of my recent entries. The male/female relationship dynamic is a very screwed up one, as you said, and I know the bad luck I've had is because of my vulnerabilities from having Asperger's, on top of that messed up dynamic. But...I would rather wait a long time and end up finding the right person than just grab some boy toy off the shelf now and not truly be happy.
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Yeah, Tery sure earns her manager salary some days, lol.
I don't think it's at all weird. I feel like I tell this story a lot so forgive me if you've heard it, but I was straight as an arrow when I went to college. Never gave girls a second thought (unless you count schoolgirl crushes I had on my kindergarten teacher, a beautiful blonde on the bus, and my best friend in high school, none of which ever translated to true romantic feelings for me).
Then one day in college between classes, out of the blue, I locked eyes with a girl and she gave me this sweet little secret smile that made my insides go all funny. That was it, just that little smile, and a switch had been flipped for me. Luckily, she turned out to be a friend of my then current boyfriend. He introduced us and I left him for her (he was a little psycho, wouldn't have lasted anyway).
We ultimately were too shy to do anything physical, but she opened up this other world to me.
Now as a proud bisexual, and I'm sure you've heard this before if not from me, I just think it's crazy for people to rule out 50% of the population as candidates when love is so hard to find. And as Dan Savage, popular sex advice columnist, says, female sexuality is far more fluid than male, and women adapt to the idea of same sex love a lot easier.
If you're feeling it and she's not turning away, I say see where it goes. I'm not at all advocating experimenting with someone who might be mistaking your interest as a genuine promise of commitment (lesbians have a history of having their hearts broken by straight girls just "experimenting"), but if she doesn't mind playing NSA (no strings attached) I don't think you have anything to lose. I think you're a sensual person who enjoys sex a lot, enough to keep an open mind, and sex with a woman has a LOT of advantages over a man.
My only demand is that you keep me updated! And I'm jealous. I miss those "first time jitters." They're one of the best parts of a relationship.
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I think she is definitely okay with NSA, because neither one of us is looking for a relationship or commitment of any kind at the moment, and we're both okay with that. I mean, from my end, I honestly have no desire to touch a vagina other than my own, but she's mentioned how good she is at, uh...going down on girls, and well, that's like my favorite thing ever, so...it's just made me all >_> <_< (looking around all unsure). Haha. But we've both agreed that we wouldn't mind some cuddling and stuff. The only thing is that she lives four hours away (in Massachusetts), so we don't get to see each other much. But that's okay. I'm just relieved that I didn't scare her off when I told her about the curiosities she had stirred up in me. So thank you for going into all that depth and making me feel less weird about this. LoL. I will most certainly keep you updated on what goes down (um...pun only partially intended. *blush*).
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