#'s18-26: QUOTES/Dark Meat McNerney/Tragedy at Ridge Rd/VT goods/GZ Mosque

#18. I couldn't decide--still can't--whether this should be an asterisk post, a "lists by one most listless", or simply the next however many of the (now up to!!!!!) 146 things/concepts/observations/opinions/questions I'd like to pose. All I know is this is about as overdue as a twelve month fetus, and lest you lose interest, and I lose what capacity I'm regaining as a writer, I should just be about the business of posting something.

Hang on. I'm slapping a number before the first word. It's been decided.

[As for the new nickname *Dark Wing/Dark Meat* McNerney, it originates, as so many life-changing things do, in a chat between Steve Maxon and I, wherein I attempted to explain my heritage to him, and consequently had to unpack the term "Black Irish". I put this in brackets because I love brackets, but also because Steve made the observation more than a year ago that I enjoy them, and he phrased it this way, "You love nesting."(he's right {I totally do.})].

# 19. I sincerely wish there was a way for you to see this photo without seeing the book. Because if you're the curious type, the type for whom the mere sight of an author's name piques your interest enough for you to Control +N, pop over to Google or Bing--choose your alliance and stick with it--you'd learn she's a Romance author. Gross, would be my general, totally totally overly subjective, judgmental sweeping diagnostic categorization. Before I read the book. But I'm not here to convince you of Nancy Pickard's merits. My mom had about 2 minutes' notice when I phoned and said "I NEED A BOOK", and surprisingly, this wasn't disappointing. WHAT YOU DO NEED TO KNOW: Those, on my arms, are bed bug bites.

Courtesy of the TravelLodge Inn in Attica, NY.

Bed bugs--not just the stuff of nursery rhymes, friend.

Spent 8 hours in that joint and came out with three of my four main appendages (questioning the necessity and accuracy of the qualifier "main". . . considering I don't have any others. I'm not, like, secretly a man, or a proboscis monkey---BOOM--DISPELLED two common myths in one fell swoop!) looking like I'd played an intense game of paintball with Stanley McChrystal. Too tired to think up a funnier example. I assume the man's a good shot?

Anyway, sick, right?

What's saddest about this adventure within an adventure is that exempting the bed bugs, the damage from which my dad roundly pronounced as "sure to happen in any hotel" (hmmm, I'll leave those of you who know me well enough to deduce what my mental reaction was to that- considering the types of hotels my dad's likely to be in, and those of you who don't in the dark. It's dark in there, huh? Sorry.), I had a rather lovely time at the TravelLodge. Truly. I decided about 8 hours out of Benson that I, for once, wasn't gonna make the trip from VT to IL straight through. My phone was dead, car charger lost (still a mystery)(life's one, Madonna tells me, but that chick's bent, so who knows), Magellan giving questionable suggestions, and Hugo getting particularly restless--even "vocal" about his discomfort.

This TravelLodge looked like HEAVEN.

Who knew "Cheerleader Nation" was such a fascinating show? I was seriously into it, splayed under the (now exposed as having been filthy) covers, exhausted, watching Hugo snooze contentedly, enjoying two ginger ales and a diet coke for my dinner--turns out vending machines in a TravelLodge are heavily (read: entirely) beverage based. Whatever. It got the job done. That and an elicit Benadryl. The latter really got the job done.

So much so that I slept through the predatory, parasitic experience occurring below the covers.

Just be glad I've not subjected you to a picture of my left leg. It was a week before I could shave it without catalyzing blood geysers.

I never said this blog was for the faint of heart.

#20. Now, a few hilarious things I've said; heard; overhead; or read lately. Quote first, then context. Funniest, punchiest that way, I find, and hope you agree.

1. "So, during the course of that 950 miles, how many words would you say--and be honest--were exchanged, or, more accurately, said to Hugo?"
My friend Gabe, who knows me well, perhaps alluding to my gregarious nature. Yes, I did speak to Hugo in the car on both legs of our trips from Chicago to the Northeast, and back. No, I'm not ashamed of that. It is a long drive, and he listens. His expressions are very human. He's empathic, if not empathetic. And he thinks I'm funny. But so does Gabe. 

2. " Well, it's just not every day you hear the phrase codpiece--twice." Josh Tate, during a call I later informed him was kept to a respectable 8 mn and 30some seconds. He returned my call of concern/well wishing/inquiry into his status after a bad mongrel-on-bike-on-human clavicle episode in which he was principally involved in last week. I don't know why, but I mentioned the framed Adam West poster that came a few months ago from Job (he used the poster itself as the mailer too--his creativity knows no bounds) to Josh because I was gazing at it while we chatted. It's true. The man's wearing a codpiece. I don't know why I said it twice. The man meaning Adam West. No idea what Josh was wearing. Presumably normal undies and regular attire.
Side note: Pray for Josh, if you would. He was hurt. In the accident I alluded to above.

3. " Yeah--that sometimes never happens with these, sometimes."  Anne: you knew if I was deploying a quotes section in this post, I'd have to include it!!!! I was asking Anne (very hopefully) about the eventuality that I'd grow accustomed to QWERTY--she confirmed that. Then I ventured something like, "Geez, my hands feel ENORMOUS, like these things were designed for elvin peoples of the Gaian hills, and I have regular sized hands. I'll get used to that, I suppose." She responded with the cryptic, hilarious answer above. She's sleep deprived. Brilliant, but sleep deprived.

My phone died, rather unceremoniously, last week. I didn't expect it to amble out onto a small raft made of matchboxes and light its own pyre, but a little warning would have been nice. So, like a big girl, I finally acquired a big girl phone. That is to say a PDA. Not the kind Job loves. Not that kind. There should be enough acronyms to go around. A Blackberry!!! Now I'm fond of saying to people, "You can reach me on my Currrrrrrrrve." I'm a fairly dynamic person, but I'm also internally really resistant to change, and I have to admit that. I was excited to finally have a phone that accesses the internet, but still, a few of you got some pretty juvenile "I hate this!" texts those first few days. I appreciate very much the "You'll get used to it, Lis! You're just accustomed to texting from a regular phone" responses. I liked those better than the "Heh, you should've gotten an Iphone."s...couple of those. Some of you Android people were haters, too. :-)

4. " You want one/some? They're GREAT for bloating."

My mother, offering me acidophilous vitamins, which in itself is not wrong or bizarre. What mother wouldn't want to promote the digestive health of her daughter by encouraging her to take a pill that contains "millions of healthy organisms!"? It was the rather pointed way the word 'bloat' rolled off her tongue. I'm not altogether sure she didn't glance at my belly. I've slacked on running. Really, though, just a funny quote. And actually I ganked the whole bottle, and have been taking them daily, thanks Mom. 

Oh--Hey--get that goiter checked out! Love you. (TEASING)

Don't forget those bunions.

p.s. You're balding.

KIDDING ON ALL COUNTS. 

She gets a kick out of the Chronicles.

# 21.

THINGS I PURCHASED IN VERMONT FOR OTHER PEOPLE THAT I WANT TO KEEP:

Look, I most certainly am going to give the gifts as I intended originally, but I thought it best, in the spirit of accountability and honesty to self, to admit in a public forum, that I am a bit like a child headed to a birthday party. I don't particularly care for my own toys, I want THAT--that item we just bought for the bday kid.
We've all been there.

THIS POSTER, for one.

You might even note it's already affixed to my wall.

You can have it (back) someday, sweetie.
I'll even wrap it.

Bennington mug. With TWO handles. I know. Not that big a deal.
This one actually is mine. But I parted with the two I'd purchased for my mom and Mark, and I was slightly sad, despite having ensured I got my own. How selfish can I be?! Had I kept those, it'd require six available digits to even hold them all concurrently. I'm horrible.
Cute that I made this one a coaster, huh? By cute I mean pathetic.

YES. This scarf. Also actually mine. Got one for my mom as well in colors I deemed 'perfect for her', and Janie, unprompted by me, confirmed upon seeing it when I displayed my goods: "Those colors are perfect for Jude!". Note: If you're curious as to the white specks behind Hugo? I was in a rush the other morning, and late getting outside for my ride, so instead of grabbing my Ipod I decided to shatter two candlesticks that I'd treasured dearly instead. I know. Pretty cool of me. I suppose the natural question is why the hell haven't I cleaned up that dust yet. Anyway, beautiful scarf, right? I've already worn it, and the weather here remains barely tolerable--sweltering--like living inside the Devil's mouth or something heinous. :-).

What? I thought it was funny. And I like a good burlap sack.
Christmas Eve party game, look out.
Unless I get uncharacteristically ambitious in the kitchen and decide to make this (in which case I'll pop some acidophilous), it's slated for December 24th. No one'll remember by then.

# 24. 

 This Segment is titled, sadly, : Tragedy At Ridge Road

I knew--I KNEW--in that sort of uneasy, inexplicable way, that something strange was about to happen. Dean, my landlord approached me, with his characteristic look of bewilderment (I've learned this look precedes anything from good news to bad news, so I just steel myself and wait). I was prepared for him to say, "Lisa, we know you've been frequenting the roof." Instead, despite the fact that we've had casual conversations about me being a severe asthmatic, despite the fact that I rented this apartment from him a year and a half ago on the premise that I am (and in fact signed to attest to it) a non-smoker,....instead, he says, "Have you been leaving cigarette butts around?". I reminded him I don't smoke.

Then, as though it was an afterthought, which in Dean's case wouldn't be a stretch because I don't know that he has room up there for many at a time, he turned and said, "Oh, also, I'm, whatdyacallit, responsible legally ("liable?" I offered), for the roof, so you can't go up there."

THAT'S RIGHT.

I'VE BEEN CAUGHT.

NO MORE BIBLE STUDY.

NO MORE CATCH WITH HUGO.

NO MORE PHENOMENAL PHONE RECEPTION.

NO MORE TANNING...

The night before, I'd gotten the idea to take a photo of myself on the roof for Job right at sunset.

WHO KNEW, who knew it'd be my final time up there.

1. I don't know what that is behind me.

2. No, I don't have a mustache. It's shadowy. Like your nature, if you'd think a lovely gal like me would have a 'stache. Those are, however, how intense my eyebrows are. Not much I can do in that department.

To satiate and ameliorate what I know will be an immense grief on the part of my readership at the loss of the roof posts, I'll direct you here, for the sake of memories:

http://blogtitletbdfornow.blogspot.com/2010/07/1arnold-palmer-grabbed-my-butt2my-roof.html

#25: So I saw this license plate the other day outside Walgreens, as I was chatting with Ira. Turns out not only is it my dad's exact initials, but it's the model Corvette he had when we lived in D.C. It's cute to hear Job describe being smooshed between his brothers while riding in the 'Vette, invariably shoved down into the worst seat or position as the youngest, but he's got sensory memories of how it sounded and smelled. Anyway, my dad texted me back: "hey you should grab that license plate." 

Hadn't heretofore thought of him as condoning theft. :-)

Walter James McNerney, Jr.

Huh. Same model and all.

# 26. 

This "Ground Zero Mosque" thing troubles me from absolutely every veritable angle. I had the benefit of listening to conservative radio for the entirety of the day as I drove from Benson to Attica, and then watched largely liberal news that evening from the TravelLodge. I'm not being sarcastic at all when I say it was lovely to juxtapose the two, and gave me some good insight into a few things I'd taken for granted, as a Republican, and one likely of course to be biased toward a conservative bent (but not crazy enough to nod my head to most of what Rush, for instance, says), but it also confirmed for me how utterly out of hand the media is. I'm willing to concede it happens on both sides, but in this instance, I was watching The Rachel Maddow show, and there was a substitute (a very very intelligent guy who looked unnervingly LIKE Rachel Maddow despite being a dude); I was troubled by the fact that some of what he said was totally true, insofar as we on the right allow some of the farthest outliers to speak for us. Glenn Beck, for instance? does NOT speak for me. Never will. But he's got money, momentum, visibility, and has increasingly branded himself as emblematic of our party---I don't blame Democrats for a MOMENT for taking advantage of that. I would! 

As for my actual opinion on the mosque: I think the fact that a lot of people have determined that anyone who raises the slightest question or objection to its placement at the base of where the towers stood is unfair and intellectually dishonest, bottom line. It is in no way anti-Muslim of me to agree that it'd be nice to know where this Imam's funding comes from. It'd be *more than* nice, more like just due diligence/logical to investigate his purported ties to shady operations. I'm sorry guys, but it's not profiling. Just because he's Muslim does not now mean he's EXEMPT from judgment or suspicion. We are so terrified of being not politically correct. Pelosi, for instance, called (retracted it, probably after being better informed by her staff, who I imagine have a hell of a job to do--she seems like a pistol) for an investigation into the people who wanted to know the Imam's background. Wait, what?! The State Department FUNDED his trip abroad last month. Won't disclose why or for what, but released a statement that did admit he was an 'emissary' on behalf of the United States. The man refuses a meeting with the governor of the state of New York? Sure, I'd like to know a bit more about him. Not because I'm anti-Islamic, or an, the term that's cropped up recently on the Web--and I've seen bandied about with vitriol at the slightest mention of the mosque project--"Islamiphobe", but because I care about the implications of our government yet again making decisions based on appeasing the international appetite for American deference, apology and pandering. I won't antagonize--but I will not, not, apologize.

THANKS FOR READING GUYS!!! I'LL POST TOMORROW (FINALLY) MY RESPONSE TO THE COLLECTION POLL.......IT'S ELEPHANTS, KIDS, AND I HAVE IN EXCESS OF 70.