Tuesday, September 25, 2007

my ghost

the days turn over

a pretty pumpkin
on every porch

it never really was
but it haunts just the same
like a dream
remembered in tiny pieces

no lazy sunday
french toast
coffee shop flipflops

i feel frozen

like the day i found your ring
under the couch
in a perfect sliver of sunlight

i held it in my hand
titanium and weightless
and it was
so heavy

all i wanted was to tie it to a brick and throw it off the nearest bridge

but i didn't

i walked away
toward another

to hold something tangible
because he could be mine
all mine
a warm body
the warmest

and i am still frozen

Monday, September 17, 2007

what a weekend!

guess who vomited all day saturday? me!

i feel so clean. you know, after puking all contents of your stomach including bile....you start over..all fresh and new. this should be the new "cleansing" trend. to "purify" yourself..."try our colon cleanse and then try our new stomach cleanse".
if only it wasn't already claimed by bulimics.

i went to a birthday party yesterday for 3 girls all turning five. in lovely kirkland. at some point i will have to get over my fear and contempt for other parents and children. but not today.

so...at what point did it become appropriate to have a huge plastic bin for presents that the child simply takes home to mindlessly tear open in the comfort of their home? there has to be some kind of etiquette on this.

here is what emily post says:


A small girl (or boy) giving a party should receive with her mother at the door and greet all her friends as they come in. If it is her birthday and other children bring her gifts, she must say “Thank you” politely. On no account must she be allowed to tell a child “I hate dolls,” if a friend has brought her one. She must learn at an early age that as hostess she must think of her guests rather than herself, and not want the best toys in the grab-bag or scream because another child gets the prize that is offered in a contest. If beaten in a game, a little girl, no less than her brothers, must never cry, or complain that the contest is “not fair” when she loses. She must try to help her guests have a good time, and not insist on playing the game she likes instead of those which the other children suggest.
When she herself goes to a party, she must say, “How do you do,” when she enters the room, and curtsy to the lady who receives. A boy makes a bow. They should have equally good manners as when at home, and not try to grab more than their share of favors or toys. When it is time to go home, they must say, “Good-by, I had a very good time,” or, “Good-by, thank you ever so much.”

well....i am not sure if this applies. and we didn't get any kind of thanks for bring 3 gifts....no one was there to greet us....i think i will write a rule here:

if your child is invited to a birthday party, they should gently place the gift(s) in the overflowing plastic bin silently and unnoticed by anyone, and should expect no sign or acknowledgment that they have brought a gift. after being contaminated by germs for roughly 1 hour, consumed hydrogenated soybean oil and high fructose corn syrup (i.e frosting), your child should say thank you to the birthday girl (again, this will be unnoticed) and leave with a insulin crash and a viral infection.

um...anyway. that said...my poor, deprived child is going to have a birthday at a yoga studio where they will eat veggies and fruit and there will be a "no gifts" rule. i am very cruel.

in the news today:

wear baggy pants= go to jail.

are they serious? i mean, i hear ya on the whole we don't want to see your ass thing...plus it is just so, like, 10 years ago, and i am so over the whole gangsta fad...but, come on, jail time? for real?


i really hope the next thing to go are the super low slut jeans on girls. i would like to see some tramp go to jail for having visible pubic hair. and if i have to see ONE MORE g string !!!! you are going to jail bitch.

finally, the police are also fashion police. it is about fucking time. warning to anyone wearing ponchos, uggs, or velour track suits.

Friday, September 14, 2007

um. connections. and stuff.

so. to my shock and horror, i guess some people read this.

i feel like a disclaimer is a necessity.

most of this is dull and pathetic. i write about my life which is mostly dull and pathetic (see how that works?)
sometimes...i write things in the heat of rage. sometimes i write things that mean nothing. sometimes i can be offensive or objectionable.
also, i am a total loser.

to anyone i may have previously offended...uh hem....i am truly sorry.
to anyone i may offend in the future, go fuck yourself and read the disclaimer.


i had a dream last night about a past lover.
i often wonder when someone is on my mind...or in my subconscious...if i am on theirs. i guess i try to believe that there is some kind of connection (if you will) with some people that have been a part of my life....i don't know if the connection goes away.

last week this was, once again, proved to me...i was cleaning a room in my house that is supposed to be a family room, but is more of a storage heap, and i found a tiny scrap of paper with an old friends name and old email on it. i started thinking about her. sophie. she was a friend in college. she was the reason i moved to maine for a summer. she is one of the coolest girls i have ever met. we used to drink bourbon and shoot pool. i realized that i had not spoken to her in 5 years.

that night i got an email from her. she had sent it to a few emails that could have been mine. it said this:

Hi- it's Sophie and i'm trying to get in touch w/ dana. let me know if any of these are you! miss ya.

coincidence? perhaps.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

vicodin dreams

i made a blackberry tart yesterday. with a shortbread crust. and a crumb topping.
i had it for dinner last night, breakfast this morning, and lunch today.

in my quest to take over the internet i have started a yelp profile and wrote my first review. reviewing is fun! te he he...

i also have a flickr page, a myspace, and a blog (duh). funny that i have so much of myself on the internet knowing that no one even reads this shit or cares about stupid little me. but oh well.


- i was asked a very unsettling question last night by my boyfriend. "why did you quit drinking"? i stared at him wide eyed for a minute not sure what he was saying. and then it hit me. he was right. i stopped drinking. shocking...i had not even realized. i went from drinking a couple bottles of vodka a week (mild exaggeration) to none. my answer was "ahh.....i DON'T KNOW"!
don't worry alcohol, i won't leave you...i am having a beer right now....

-i had a dream that i had a baby boy. with big brown eyes. and tan skin...like a french vanilla latte. he had amazing long eyelashes and chubby hands.
can you hear it? can you? it is the clock...tick tick tick....i thought i would be over the kid thing. but no. dammit.

- vicodin makes me have crazy nightmares. i feel betrayed by an old friend. i had a dream that there was an earthquake. and i was yelling and screaming. it was so vivid.

- both my daughter and i want to be tinkerbell for halloween. is that weird? she can be the cute kid version and i will be the slutty sorority tramp version.

-god this beer is going down nice.

-next week i am having house guests. some great friends from college. they are staying with us, then we are all driving down to bend for our friends wedding.
then, 4 days later i have more house guests coming for a week! my boyfriends brother and his girlfriend (i have not met them...eeeekkkkk!) are coming here and then we are all driving to reno together.
man, i have a ton of cleaning to do. must prepare house for invasion. must stock guest towels. must clean sheets. remove clutter piles.

- i got in a huge dumb fight with my mom. fuck, will it ever end? all the years of us fighting....i should write a book. i think i made a truce by bringing her some of the blackberry tart.

- tomatoes with cottage cheese is nummy. seriously. don't hate.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

all the pretty things

i wish i could open my own store in west seattle. a cute boutique that sells pretty girly foofy things like sexy perfumes, calming candles, herbal balms, fancy lotions, french soaps, classy lingerie, cute dishes and glassware, vintage inspired aprons and linens, and old fashioned candy. and some cute baby and toddler clothes from italy and france. and handmade hats and scarfs. and maybe some neat cards and art. and everything would feel cozy and sexy and pretty and it would smell like heaven and chandeliers would be everywhere. and i would have a record player at the shop and would listen to old records and drink tea and sell stuff. and i would have a clanky old cash register and wrap everything in cute white boxes and pink polka dot satin ribbon.

a girl can dream.

only a sound

you'll plummet like a stone
a limestone statue
a heavenly bit
and when you hit
there'll be only a thud

you fall
when wings are built with straw and mud

nights like these

arm in arm
palm on palm
i'll take your hand
i'll take you home
feet on feet
hand in hands

catch the pieces
as they land

between each finger
stab a knife
stay a night
stay a life

Monday, September 3, 2007

teeth suck

i had a root canal. it sucked. all the valium and vicodin they gave me helped a little. but not enough. have you seen the tools they use for this procedure? they look like drill bits. with barbs on them. and they are repeatedly shoved in, and quickly pulled out of your tooth's canal to clean out the root and nerves. it is bloody. i am such a baby. it cost $1500 to sit in a chair and get tortured for an hour and a half. at least they gave me a nice warm damp washcloth to wipe the dried blood from my face and neck when they were done. i am sure the people in the waiting room would have loved to see my face before the wipe down.
side note: the best thing to see after a root canal (after you see the prescription for vicodin) is the person you love in the waiting room. sigh.....

ok. um. anyway....

i think i want all of my teeth pulled and dentures.
i am going to think this over while i have a bowl of ice cream.

summer in the freezer

sidewalk steps
two by two
from the rosebush to the end of the block
the tricycle that cost a dollar
on and on
on dusty feet

she likes bugs
but only the green ones
we count the wings
we count her toes

another summer falls asleep

big fat tears of rain
explode like mini bombs
on my shoulder
on my cheek

the air smells like giving up

and like mud

we pick blackberries for the freezer