EEEEEEK a MOUSE!

The two main custodians of my sanity (Galleta & Scooter) narrowly escaped a call from me last night when I was awoken by the sounds of a MOUSE in my BEDROOM!!!! At about 3 am last night the little bugger was under my dresser playing around with a scrap of paper that had fallen to the floor. Once my eyes acclimated to my surroundings and zeroed in on the location of the noise I immediately spiraled into mini panic mode. I then did what any self respecting woman would do in the same situation – I curled up in a ball on my bed until at last Squeakers got bored of his folly and scooted into the Living Room. I of course could not fall back to sleep and ALL I wanted to do was call either of my boys so they could recue me from my vermin infested boudoir. After mulling over the list of perspective consequences that my late night call may induce, I decided to buck it up and lay motionless in my bed until my alarm went off at 5 am. During my two hours of pre dawn terror I devised many plans of action to rid myself of this tawny grey menace. I will now list some of my possible ideas generated during this time of creative problem solving:

• I could leave for work at my scheduled 6am departure time and never return.
• I could temporarily move in with Galleta or Scooter until a person with a much stronger resolve “takes care” of the problem.
• I could call in sick to work, take the 3 hour LIRR trip out to Sag Harbor and return with my Mom’s newly adopted kitten.
  

Chiropractic? It should be called Chiro-CRACK-tic!

I’ve started a new relationship and like most that I jump into, I am totally and utterly addicted… like crack. I have been baptized in the waters of Chiropractic care and I am a worthy and obedient convert. My relationship (or “Marriage”… Dr. ‘s words) with Dr. Pico is a direct consequence of my lower back injury which occurred on that fateful morning at the NC Marriott after regrettably engaging in an ill fated pillow fight. DR. P is warm, charming, and oh so powerful…. oh and married. Oh well I can still totally crush on my Dr…. right? Lord knows I get no testosterone time at Hydra. Also having such a swell time with Dr. P sort of deadens the pain that is felt in my wallet… yep my new habit is costing me $55 per week! I’ve already cut off my cable to save some bucks but like all things there is no action without a reaction… in this case the reaction is that I no longer have a TV remote! I fatefully discovered rather quickly (after returning my cable system) that after years of cable and satellite service I have somehow misplaced my TV zapper. I have been spending many hours now being bombarded by commercial TV … commercials and I’ve come to the conclusion that the lack of jingles really makes for blahhhhh merchandising. OH totally off track (but strangely in my mind these two topics are totally connected) but seriously people…. who has NEVER heard of Colorforms??? I was shocked and amazed that the youngsters who surround me have never even HEARD of the vinyl phenomenons!

In a past post I sang the praises of my free-ish haircut however now after several weeks out I’m realizing that it wasn’t as good as previously reviewed. Now that I spend hours on end sitting at my desk reflecting on all things banal I have also taken up the hobby of inspecting the ends of my hair. After a full three days of inspection I have discovered a multitude of split ends ….. yes I am very thorough.. kinda like a monkey. So looks like I’m gonna have to treat myself to a real cut from my Sephardic scissor wielding stylist.

Don't Stop Believing

The excitement of my autumnal travel has waned and now I am stuck focusing on the daily drudgery of my life. I thought getting a full time job would solve all my anxiety issues, but I have merely placed a band aid on my gushing aorta. Don’t get me wrong I am ecstatic that I won’t loose my apartment and be forced into living in my Mom’s basement while waiting tables during the off season in Sag Harbor just to pay back my 40K loan – however on the other hand I hardly feel like I am “living” my life. I go through the paces, being the “monkey” at work, but standing in the copy room shredding documents for hours on end can really damage ones spirit.

My physical work environment is devoid of creativity, heart, personality, and especially color! Swason and Scooter have already visited “Hydra’s lair” and can attest to the depressing nature of the space. To combat the environmental tedium I have begun to decorate my stark white corner with pictures of my friends’ shiny faces. Throughout the day while forwarding hundreds of emails destined for others I glance over at my palls and remember that I am better than this and that there are people in this world that are rooting for me and will laugh with me about this “speed bump”.
So I’m here for the time being, it’s not the end of my journey just a baby step to pause the insanity. I keep telling myself (and others) that change will come, everything is for a reason, I’ll find my passion, and be truly settled one day…. It’s just not the time for that right now. Right now I am in survival mode which is so much better than disaster mode.

From [title of show] - "September Song"

“I like doing the show. It balances out my day job which is killing me softly.I wrote this song sitting at my desk today...I'd like to sing it...for you now...

Can't you see that I'm dying inside? Can't you see that I'm dying inside?If you shined a flashlight in my butt you'd see I'm dying inside!”

Me Gusta

Weddingfest 2008 has come to a conclusion. After two weekends in a row full of nuptials I am finally home surrounded by dirty laundry, a half unpacked suitcase, and numerous pairs of dressy shoes and evening bags strewn throughout my one bedroom apartment.

Galleta and I attended a wedding in Charlotte, NC and returned without our record or our reputation in jeopardy….
however my “cool” status was gently marred by a comment made by the bride regarding my past love of the folk trio Peter , Paul and Mary….. is nothing sacred? Galleta once again proved to be the BEST wedding date ever. He has totally spoiled me – I don’t think I will ever go to a formal event without him on my arm.

There’s not much to tell so here is a short snapshot of some of the weekend’s highlights:

o Talking and laughing on a plane that is stuck on the tarmac for over an hour REALLY pisses off old men passengers.

o At the car rental counter don’t tell 2 New Yorkers that you gave THEIR convertible Mustang away because it is “race weekend”.

o Germans love talking about (and showing) their boobs.

o Galleta and I really ARE kinda a big deal.

o It’s dumfounding, but in NC cheeseburgers look like hot dogs.

o The phrase “Oh hot damn…. This is my jam” can be used to describe almost anything.

o Pretty girls in Charlotte have NO problem throwing shoulders and elbows on the dance floor just to get closer to a cute boy who knows how to shake his bon bon (ouch!)

o Our commode at the Marriot just might have been a porthole to an alternative universe.

o Talk of Jesus gets Galleta HOT… while it does just the opposite for me……hmmmmm

o Not all German music is danceable.

o When engaged in a pillow fight always adjust your balance to take into consideration velocity of mass. Otherwise prepare to be uncontrollably catapulted off your bed while slamming your face into the edge of your competitor’s mattress then finally collapsing into a ball between the two beds with your feet bent up to the nape of your head.

Cheese It – It’s the Fuzz!!!!

I was done with the club by 1am so we made a quick escape back to the luxury leather interior of Galleta’s chariot. I pulled out of the lot and with directions in hand Galleta began navigating our route back to the Marriot. In hindsight I do see the errors of my ways – who hands the directions to the DRUNK guy? It’s just that Galleta holds his liquor so well I kinda forget…. But after circumnavigating downtown Syracuse, and directions from a friendly cop, we were back on track by 2AM – almost.


We were SO close to the hotel…Galleta was falling asleep, and I was just antsy, when this little black civic zoomed around in my blind spot and cut me off on the passenger side. Galleta jolted awake and yelled energetically – “GET HIM!!! F’in FLOOR IT!!!!!” and all kinds of testosterone induced knee-jerk verbal reactions. I am not a road rager – I couldn’t care less what people do – BUT it was Galleta’s truck and his instructions did sound sincerely important …..and yes again in hindsight maybe I should have not put so much equity in the words of the drunk 26 year old. So I floored it (It was fun) and not only did I catch up to Civic but I cut him off (at about 78mph). My glory was cut short though by the flashing colorful lights that filled the truck and the screeching siren that silenced the radio.


The next words came from the trooper outside my window inquiring about my knowledge of local speed limits – obviously knowing something and doing something are two different things. I then quickly downward spiraled into pool of honesty as I fessed up to having one shot at the bar.

Outside the truck staring into the lights of two police cruisers I was asked to perform the sobriety field exercises as my body quickly shut down. Extreme anxiety replaced any “Bad Ass-ness” I had felt only moments before as I lapped the civic and celebrated my driving prowess.

I failed the “heal toe” as my legs shook and my bare feet froze on the pavement (the officer allowed me to remove my heals). I also failed the “balance on one foot” because counting to 30 is really hard when one is hyperventilating and sobbing uncontrollably. I did however pass the “follow the pen with you eyes test” FYI - I guess panic attacks do not effect the optic nerve. My officer’s eyes narrowed and a thin tight lipped grin spread across his face as he commanded me to “STOP CRYING” and blow into the breath – a –lizer. I wrapped my lips around the clear plastic straw and gave it a blow – the officer looked at the red numbers on the machine then looked at me with a sneer. Pulling it from my mouth he tore the straw out of the machine, throwing it to the curb. He placed a new straw into the machine and we repeated the process. This time he looked at me and gruffly asked, “Explain to me how the hell can you fail almost EVERY field test and not have ONE drop of alcohol in your system!!!” I explained that I was in complete panic mode and I also told him WHY I had been speeding. Pointing towards my drunken passenger I exclaimed, “HE TOLD ME TO DO IT” (throwing Galleta under the bus). My officer turned sweet and gentle as he tipped his head to the side and asked, “Gail, how old are you?” And I answered the only way I could, “Old enough to know better Sir.”

Back in the truck (no ticket in hand) I drove the next 2 miles in a state of shock and extreme anxiety as the adrenalin still pounded through my body. Galleta, in a soft gentle voice, guided me back to the hotel while interjecting comments such as ,You’re doing great… It’s all OK….etc… Once inside the commercial park where the hotel was located Galleta announced “STOP THE TRUCK AND GET OUT!!!!” I was frozen at the wheel, but after a few short moments I was outside wrapped around Galleta in a bawling mess. He took control of the vehicle and drove it the last 100 yards as I slowly resumed a normal breathing pattern through my chattering jaw.

A Post Party to Remember

After the wedding Galleta stayed in his suit (Big Baller) and I changed into something a little less dressy. We picked up directions from the front desk then headed out to downtown Syracuse for some local flava. I decided to drive so Galleta could continue his Vegas lifestyle (you can’t just stop NON – stop drinking – you could hurt yourself) and within 15 min we were in the thick of it. We parked the truck in a lot then walked over to Ambrosia. It’s embarrassing recording the name of the ‘club’ in print here because the place was a steaming hot pot of MESS!!!! The place was teaming with guys and the girls looked like they just got off their closing shift at the local Strawberry and Mandee shops. I didn’t know girls still dressed like they did in 1992 – it’s like time stood still in Western NY. Galleta and I made the best of it though and he made the best of the $5 drinks. We danced when I was not distracted by the state of humanity and the encroaching realization that these college kids were the future of our country – and I even got a free shot from a poorly groomed guy at the end of the bar. Hmmmm that shot will come back to haunt me….

Road Trip!

I was very lucky to be a guest at one of the most charming weddings I have ever attended. Masters and her Fiancé hosted a lovely event filled with humor, heart, and mashed potatoes. Galleta was my arm candy and he was the best wedding date EVER!!

Our Sat. began early with Galleta picking me up in his fancy new red truck (he had to leave the pearly white Escalade at Home- I understood) and after a quick pit stop at Starbucks we were off on our road trip- zooming towards Syracuse, NY. The drive was beautiful and reminded me of my years at New Paltz. The trees were at their peak as we cruised through the Poconos. The hills always look to me like soft undulating muti-colored quilts and I found myself zoning out as I gazed out the car window trying to remember every hue. My bucolic daydreaming was short lived though because of Galleta’s most entertaining story telling abilities. Obviously some things that happen in Vegas…. get reiterated during a 4 hour drive to Western NY.

We rolled up to the Marriott at about 2pm and once in the room we quickly realized this was NO Sofitel – I’m such a princess. The room was clean though and we both stretched out on our beds while I distributed the yummy snacks that were in our welcome gift bag. A few hours later Galleta was all spiffy in his gray suite (and sporting my Thank You gift – see blogs below) and after a small wardrobe malfunction on my part I was dolled up and ready to blow this Mo Fo UP! We walked over to the event site, took a seat at the bar and began our celbration.

Once inside we met up with LJ and her date, taking our seats behind them. The ceremony was oh so sweet and of course I cried. Galleta sensing my vulnerability during once specific part of the ceremony quietly moved closer and gave me the shoulder I needed. A quick cocktail party filled with tons of cheese and poorly made drinks made way for the reception. Our table partners were enjoyable, the buffet was tasty, and after Galleta had a few strong words with the bartender and tossed him $20 my G&T’s took a turn for the better.

We danced to everything (mostly), Galleta even got the DJ to drop MY track (Rob Base – Holla!). The wedding reception ended rather quickly and abruptly at 11pm as the music came to a screeching halt and the lights flashed on. “You don’t gotta go home but you can’t stay here”. While we walked back to the Marriott with LJ, Galleta and I were already planning our post- party.