Ain't nothing going on but the rent

Did I ever mention seeing Jessica Lange at the grocery store?  Well, it was a while back, and it was completely uneventful.
I guess that's the point.  It's no big deal any more.
The point is these Hollywood types (and such) are driving up my rent.

Thankfully, my landlord allowed me to renew my lease a while back.
 I begged and crawled, but I'm a very good tenant.

My rent has gone up however, a good bit.
My salary has not.
My last "raise" was a gift card for a free meal at Popeyes stapled to my contract.
But I'm not complaining. That's more than I've seen in the past five years.
woo hoo!



Anyway....

When I went down to my landlord's plantation mansion to re-sign the lease,
I met the guy who now lives below me.

He was paying a full year's rent in one fell swoop.
Who has that kind of money???
Oh, wait, lots of people.

 He works in the film industry, it seems....wafted in from Hollywood.

It's all good for the city, of course.  It's not the city it was ten years ago, and for that I am grateful,
but, sheesh, I'm just trying to not be driven back into the suburbs by all this gentrification.
ahem


Hit it Gwen:

And now a word from our sponsors...

via

Seems apporpriate....

...considering this infernal heat.

(#I'llseemyselfoutthanks)
 

and now a word from our sponsors*

 

 *from Ruth Buzzi, with whom I'm lucky enough to share a birthday today

boxes

So tomorrow is my birthday.
 Today I received another lovely package in the mail.
One that I still haven't been able to bring myself to open.
They're from my friend, Mark.

He's in the later stages of ALS, (Lou Gehrig's disease) a disease I would not wish on my worst enemy.
It's been beyond heartbreaking to watch him go through this.

He, however, has gone through this with remarkable grace. I doubt I ever could be that brave.

He is preparing to die soon, and has been sending me some of his beloved stuff, mostly books and dvds and such.

I am so grateful to have a bit of him, something physical that I can treasure....but I haven't been able to make myself actually open them yet.
 I'm a terrible friend.

Somehow I feel like if I open them, it'll all become real.
Like really real. Stupidly, I want to stay in denial, ignore the truth.

But I'm going to make myself open them tomorrow
I'll have a good long cry, I know.

I just feel so impotent. He lives thousands of miles away from me now, so all I can do is write, but I never know what to say.
 There isn't anything much I can say, except to listen to him....and remind him that he is loved.

And pray. I do a lot of that.
I mean, it might not help, but it can't hurt, right?
That's what I always say.

Anywho, if any of you have any spare good energy or prayers, please send it up his way.

I know it's what I'll be blowing the birthday candles out for again this year.

thought for the day...

"Book Club" or "On checking Grindr in the convent bathroom"

A few months ago, at a repast, a friend of my ex's talked me into her little book club.
She's a social sort, a genteel southern lady.

The books sounded interesting, and I'm always seeking to meet new people, trying to be less of a homebody.
Can't say I don't try.
And she does know a lot of people.

Oh, and there was that time or two she'd shown up with one of her friends, you know, the young gentleman below.

 I mean, I might have remembered that too, I'm not sure.

Alas, nothing like that showed up at the convent for the book club.
Nope.
Not at all.

Just a gathering of older, erudite ladies....and me.
We met at a convent.
Because, of course we did. Where else would we meet?

After a bit of conversation and snacks, the ladies and I dispersed.

Before leaving, I availed myself of the bathroom, washed my hands and absent mindedly checked Grindr before leaving.
I mean it can't hurt to check, right?
Nada.
(for which I was both disappointed and relieved)
 

and now a word from our sponsors...

A piece of advice

Ever order something just because of the name?

Because it sounds like a whimsical fairy tale character?

Don't.


Here's my Tôm Mayonnaise.

thought for the day*...

*bastille

and now a word from our sponsors...

"Bedside Tables" (or "My mother is so rude")

The other day I had this conversation with my mother:

Me: "I'm looking for some new bedside tables. I hate the ones I have."
My mother: "I don't know why. Nobody but you is going to ever see them."

Bitch.

But she's probably right.
ahem

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway... When I moved (post losing everything in Katrina),
I had nothing, including money.
 In haste, I bought the two cheapest tables I could find.

You know them...the kind in your grandma's house under the chintz.
Meanwhile, they've been sitting next to my bed harboring dust for a decade.
A decade!


Every time I looked at them I felt disgust
Not a good way to wake up.

Spurred on by my mother's rudeness, I hunted all over the thrift stores and consignment shops in the metro area for new ones.
I never could find what I wanted for a price I could afford, so again I had to settle (compromise).
I got tired of looking. 
One day, I found two....not my ideal, but on sale!....and with drawers!...and legs to keep the dust bunnies from hiding! and suitably faggy for even me!

Of course, both, however, had hideous paint jobs.  That's why they were so cheap.
One painted like a distressed pumpkin, the other in what my mother calls "baby shit" green.
 Ick
So I got them home and repainted them something boring and neutral (like my soul)...and voila!, now they're not-being-seen-by-anyone-else-but-me all across the globe!

recent random randomness...

The past few days I've been blessed by being able to visit with friends.

I tried for like a whole minute to figure a clever way to organize these photos into a cohesive narrative with a message and a theme, but...um.... I'm just too lazy.

Sorry.

Instead, here's a photo dump of badly taken cell phone photos.
Enjoy!

Anyway, I was fortunate enough to spend the 4th with the ever-charming Mr. Peenee and the completely wonderful Diane. Delightful!

First up are these books found by kismet on Independence Night. They were nestled in a pile of  strays left on some poor soul's stoop (no doubt being evicted for inability to pay her rent)  Finally... at last.... I'll now know what to do with my life.

At Goodwill, Diane's legendary thrift store mojo led me to this.  Some sort of handmade snow dowager.  Is there anything sadder than a widowed snow-woman?

Aaaand, why yes, apparently there is something sadder.

Yesterday, one of my best friends, Michael, unexpectedly came into town.  Naturally, we went record shopping. He bought some.  I did not. Frankly, I don't have the energy to be dropping needles on records.  It's all too exhausting.  I did, however, snap a few pictures.

I found these two in the "beautiful manly hair sings" section.  

Speaking of " beautiful manly hair sings"

Afterward,  we had a drink at the newly renovated St. Roch Market, which seems to have been turned into a very yuppie food court, but that's not necessarily a criticism. 

I had something called the "Mary Pickford".  Because, I mean, of course I did.  Michael had the manlier (ha!) drink (some sort of mongrel margarita with black pepper and salt around the rim)

We took a walk to the newly opened Crescent Park, which seemed like less a "park" than a really nice open air space.  This is a view from the walkway to it

And here's a view of the city from the "park"

An Important Public Service Announcement

via the fabulous thombeau

thought for the day...

and now a word from our sponsors...

Deb!

Today is the birthday (70th) of the divine Debbie herself, and I feel I'd be remiss without honoring her.
Here's one of her later, under-appreciated songs (with a rather bizarre video)