Causes of the Common Cold

ME (honking into a tissue): What are you watching?

DREW: Marvel’s Ultimate Spiderman

ME: Why does Spiderman look so weird?

DREW: He got bit by a deadly jungle spider.

ME (coughing loudly): Why does Batman have a brown costume now?

DREW: That’s not Batman, that’s Wolverine.

ME: It’s just Batman in a brown costume.

DREW: It’s completely different, and it’s Wolverine.

ME: Well, he looks just like Batman.

(silence)

ME: But brown.

(silence)

ME (honking again): Why does Spiderman sound like a teenager?

DREW: You know what Mary? This is why you’re sick.

ME: Because I’m a horrible person?

DREW: Yes.

ME (coughing): I was merely trying to feign interest in your interests! Hey, I like that costume! What’s that one’s name?

(silence)

ME: If you’re not really into this, can we watch Project Runway?

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Happy New Year 2013!

2013! How did it get here so fast? I remember being a little kid and talking about how old we’d be in the year 2000, when people would be using flying cars and robot maids. It seemed a million miles away.

I haven’t had much burning in my brain to talk about, but it seems like it’s time to get a new year’s blog out, so I’ll just wing it and see where we land. First, PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT for all my ladies and my gays:

My gorgeous and only slightly batty friend Codie Leone has a friend who is a top notch aesthetician, who recommended that she get a nuface machine, which is a little handheld device which zaps the facial muscles into shape. Sort of like this for the modern age:

But it looks like this:

I noticed Codie looked very refreshed, so I forced Drew to order one for me for Christmas, even though he’d already blasted out his credit card on some other items I just had to have. He’s a very good boyfriend and luckily for me he finds this kind of nonsense entertaining. Over the years he’s purchased a laser hair remover, a sonicare face cleanser, a sonicare eye serum thingy, and a series of well-marketed and overpriced creams and potions, all with a minimum of grousing.

I’m gonna post a video of him rocking out to show my nuface gratitude. He’s the drummer:



So, I have been zapping myself since Christmas day, and have noticed a difference. Zoe got one and she sees it too. I recommend that everyone…ahem…of a certain age…go out and get one immediately. Don’t say I never did anything for you: http://mynuface.com/

In my mind, this whole 2012 cosmic shift hooplah has been a bit of a bust. I am regularly immersed in readings and channelings through my loved ones, and was hoping for something more dramatic. Alien visitations, not having to use currency anymore, people suddenly being less selfish and obnoxious, or at the very least having the ability to see auras or losing the red states to secession. Alas, I am still in my tiny apartment, watching my beloved neighborhood get eaten alive by NYU students, and arguing with near-strangers about politics on facebook. One website promised big heads to hold all of our new-found knowledge and energy, I still have a pea-sized head. Although this one is not such a disappointment really.

But things are good. In 2012 I lost a little weight and got free of some major energy vampires. I quit my day job and free fell into a new, scary but fun place. None of my animals need vet care at the moment. I am happy. I like my life, I am healthy and surrounded by people who love me and are good for me. This is because I have been fortunate and because I learned how to make better choices for myself. Once, I wasn’t any of those things. And it has occurred to me, as I run a little machine over my face like Norma Desmond, that middle age isn’t nearly as bad as our youth-obsessed culture portends.




A former bandmate posted these photos on facebook this week, that’s me in panties and a bra and not much else, looking like a low-rent Cher from behind:


Hammerjacks (best rock club ever), Baltimore, 1989. The photo surprised me for a minute. Holy cow! There I am, in my underwear, in front of a sea of people who paid good money to be watch me “sing”. I lived this on a daily basis for a while, but in some ways it feels like another lifetime. I remember that it was exciting, and fun and adrenaline-charged. But I couldn’t fully feel it. I hated myself, and when I got offstage at many of these shows I had a a guy waiting for me who would do nothing but a lot of drugs, tell me that I sucked, hit me up for cash, make rendesvous plans with the waitresses behind my back, and abuse any male fans who came near me. I don’t blame him; he hated himself too. I forgive him for being a crappy boyfriend and forgive myself for choosing such a crappy boyfriend. I did the best I could with what I knew at the time, and still had a blast through much of it and consider myself so lucky for the experiences. I’m just saying that sometimes what we THINK should be the pinnacle of success and happiness really might be outer programming which has nothing to do with the truth of what our soul seeks.

I saw a fascinating interview with Caroline Myss recently, and she said much of the pain that people experience in life comes from coveting a path that isn’t our own. Meaning that we can’t all be mega-rich pop stars with Bentleys and public adoration, no matter how many affirmations we say. I have never coveted that path, although I did walk a parallel line next to it. My main goal as a teenager was to look cool, to get near rock and roll, and to get backstage easily.  I just overshot it a little, and gained a great education in the process. Anyway, what she has to say about how to find our path is brilliant: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/09/29/super-soul-sunday-caroline-myss_n_1922777.html.

We’re always on the right path, even if we take some side streets into suffering. My mother says that it’s all tools for the cosmic toolbox, and once you learn a lesson, you don’t have to take that class again. Although I would add that in my experience you usually move on to advanced courses in which the same lesson shows up looking a little classier. like same douchey boyfriend behavior but this time he has enough money to buy new boots instead of repairing the old ones with duct tape. Or is that just me?

Once in a while I’ll get an email on facebook from someone asking life advice. I love to give it, although I have no illusion about my genius and most of the time just throw my own examples against someone else’s wall until something sticks. I know that people can hear information over and over again, but until they feel fully what they’re in body to experience, and learn it in their being rather than their brain, the information-giving is only marginally helpful. But I’m glad to be there for moral support.

So yeah, 2013. Maybe there is a shift going on and I’m simply being petulant because I don’t have a giant head full of cosmic knowledge and I’m still worried about rent money from time to time. My shift has been occurring over a lifetime, and as this new year enters I think about everyone out there who is hurting, animals and people, and pray that their shift is happening too. I feel like sometimes I dance around in my own newly cheery world and forget what it’s like to be out there, sometimes through no fault of one’s own. I wish you all a release from all that wounded you in 2012, and a happy new beginning full of love and light.

Zoe and me, New Years Day, St. Mark’s Church:


Namaste, bitches.

Nerdorama

(Sounds of many men screaming in agony)

DREW: What the hell is going on in here? It sounds horrible.

ME: I have a new phoenix upgrade. I’m just running around setting guys on fire. It’s so awesome! Look!

(More screaming)

ME: I’m an elemental killing machine! I’m unstoppable. I am THE LAW.

DREW: All right, Cartman. It’s just a game.

ME: Don’t slow me down with your petty jealousy, Andrew.

DREW: You look a little crazy. When was the last time you combed your hair? Maybe you should get out and get some fresh air.
ME: Woo HOO! Everybody’s dead! DEAD! Hey, can you get me an ice cream sandwich from the fridge?
DREW: Terrifying. I’m actually scared for our future.

(More screaming)

ME: Did you see that midget’s head pop off? Seriously, I think this just might be the greatest summer of my life!

Summer So Far…

Which is primarily going to be a pictorial as I don’t have anything deep to tell you right now…

I know it’s been a while since I’ve blogged. Handsome Dick Manitoba and I called a truce because I was kicking his ass we decided our arguing was putting too much pressure on his wife/my bff Zoe Hansen to continue arguing. She always worries that he’s going to offend me and I always assure her that everything he says offends me so worrying is pointless.

My job at PF came to a close in mid-June, and as expected I have spent some happy mornings on the couch, in my underwear, xbox controller in hand, dirty hair in a clip on top of my head.

In other words, Paradise. 

But with the extra time I feel obligated to get more diligent about writing, so my first foray back to the keyboard is this lame report on what I’ve been up to since last entry.

Truthfully, I had no idea how burnt I was on daytime work in a stressful environment until I stepped out, blinking and confused, into the sunlight. I have had maybe, maaybe, a sum total of 5 Mondays off since 2001, regardless of holidays or illness. So when Drew asked me on that Sunday night what I wanted to do on the first Monday of my new life, sooner than later to be filled with new schedules and new job possibilities, and without prior consciousness of desire, the words, “I want to go to the zoo.” popped out of my mouth.

So we went that Monday morning and it was a perfect day. The Bronx Zoo is lovely. The administrators are very conscious of conservation and animal welfare, so there is a comfort knowing that the animals are kept in environments as close to their natural habitat as possible. We found ourselves mere feet away from giant gorillas, snow leopards, giraffes, monkeys, seals, etc., and I felt renewed by the oxygen flowing from the trees and the exhilarating feel of being near so much beauty and anywhere other than a basement office. 

Almost immediately after arrival I dragged Drew to the black leopard in the Rainforest exhibit. I know it’s beyond corny, but I’ve always thought of the panther as my good luck symbol ever since, as a teenager, I went to see Cat People in the theater with a boy I was dating that I had just caught on the phone with another girl. I walked in feeling hurt and walked out two hours later fantasizing about eviscerating him feeling empowered and sure I would be fine on my own. Something about the high drama of watching a giant black cat made me feel whole and happy and more sure of myself.

We got to the panther as he (she?) slept lazily on his perch:

I felt blessed just to be near enough to see the spots and giant claws through the glass. Then as I stood there already feeling awed in the presence of greatness, he turned his head and looked directly at me, blinked once or twice, and then stayed looking at me until we walked off:

I took it as a sign from the Universe that all is on course, and felt elated and grateful for all of it: for this job change, for a boyfriend willing to escort me to the zoo, for a beautiful summer day, for the safety and well-being of this beautiful creature.

After that excursion, next up was a couple of days in Cape Cod with Drew’s mom and sister, just outside of P-Town, whereupon we were greeted with this sight upon arrival:

I’ve never been to Cape Cod or Provincetown and I fell in love. Gays, the ocean, and quaint historical New England cottages. What’s not to get excited about?

That is our friend Jaime, who moved from New York to P-Town a couple of years ago and hasn’t looked back since. He calls me Mary Haines and we spend a lot of time quoting “The Women” to one another while Drew rolls his eyes.

More eye-rolling: Drew’s sister bought herself a floatie, and he had to blow it up for her:

He wasn’t at all dramatic about it.

The second morning we were there we were greeted by this sight upon arising.

Our neighbors were in a tizzy because this little guy washed up on the beach:

My photo doesn’t do him justice. He was the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen. Like a puppy with flippers instead of legs, so not only is he adorable, he’s also heart-breakingly vulnerable on land..

We joined in the tizzy. Where was his mother? Why was he stuck on a well-traversed-by-humans beach? Was he injured? OH MY GOD, DO SOMETHING!!

Luckily one of our neighbors was a set of very beefy lesbian librarians. If the zombie apocalypse comes, I want to have manly lesbian librarians on my side. Those women HANDLE shit. They have got it UNDER CONTROL. They had already called marine rescue and remained on the beach to yell at anyone who tried to get too close. Any time people got near to take photos he flippered down to the edge of the water, and if he went in without his mother, he would be shark bait. His mother (we think) was spotted for a hot second wayyy out in the surf, but then she was gone.

And speaking of shark bait, this is going on in a different area of the Cape, because seal populations bring sharks:


I don’t get that excited about stuff like this because I’m not swimming with schools of seals, but Drew has a flair for the dramatic (see above photos) and he watched the news regularly for new shark sightings. I made Jaws jokes whenever the opportunity arose.

Anyway…the baby seal. Marine rescue came out and assessed that he was fine, no injuries, and announced that sometimes the mothers drop them off for a day. They put police tape up with a sign that threatened a $10,000 fine for tampering, and they left. And he sat there. And sat there. And sat there. All alone in the blazing 90 degree sun. It was torture to witness.

The day passed, the sun set. No mother. The tide rose, no mother. Finally we went to bed, wondering if the tide would eventually wash him out. Even if it didn’t, he had spent a full 24 hours without food or care. Fuck you, marine rescue! I wanted to put him in our tub. I’d already picked out a name–Beauregard. I envisioned hiking the beach to P-Town to get him a pink collar.

When we got up he was, as expected, gone. We spent half of the day sad until Drew’s mom heard from one of the other hotel guests that someone had seen him get very excited around 5 am and quickly flipper his way into the water, so the assumption was that his negligent mother finally showed up. I hoped that the report was true and felt sure it must have been witnessed by one of the librarians, who either stayed up all night or arose at dawn to assess the situation.

There was also a barbecue in at Mike’s house (Brooklyn, not P-Town):

Drew headlined the Revelation Records festival out in California: http://www.suburbanapologist.com/look-photo-review-of-rev25-aka-revelation-records-25th-anniversary-shows-the-glass-house-june-7-10-2012/

(Photo by Nicole Kibert/elawgrrl.com. Gotta give credit where credit is due.)

And Chockie had to go to the groomers and get a haircut after a disastrous trip to the vet where they completely humiliated him by shaving his face and neck.

Awful:

Spiffy!

And that’s my unemployed summer so far.

Somewhere in between handing over my credit card to the vet and then the groomer, it dawned on me that the one thing my day job did provide was cold hard cash, and now I am fresh out of it. OOPSIE! So yes, there is that, unless I want to spend all my savings I have to act responsibly and wisely moving forward (i.e. get gainfully employed). But since I’ve always been responsible and had a job, this new experience feels interesting, and the downtime is, as expected, pretty frickin’ awesome.

I will try to use the extra time to make you proud with some writing progress (this entry clearly doesn’t count), and I hope this blog finds you all happy and healthy and enjoying your summer!

One Crazy Girl’s Brief Guide to Navigating Relation Ships


So my friend Ms. DSS left this commentary on my last Drewfus blog, and I think it deserves a proper answer:

I would like to see a copy of your training notes, because yesterday was about as much as I could take…

a) criticized because I don’t fold the laundry correctly
b) criticized because I don’t know what I’m talking about when it comes to the NFL MVP (even though I picked Aaron Rodgers 2 days before the announcement and got an argument)
c) if I’m not “wrong” about something it’s simply because he doesn’t really care about the subject.
d) he doesn’t know how to use a telephone (not only personally, but to call PSE&G, call the landlord, call the doctor)
e) he’s a slob (so am I but no where near this level of slovenly)
f) if my tone of voice- usually dulcet tones, mallifuluous actually- changes, I’m “yellling.”
e) I think I’m burnt out.

Thank you Miss Anthrope, I know you won’t let me down.


Love,

dssgirl

Prior to proceeding to a response, I should let everyone know that Drew hates being a character in my blogs. He also hates when I post “cute” photos of him with the cats on Facebook and all his friends text him with mocking commentary [Note to Drew’s friends: please stop ratting me out]. He also hates when I write about past sexual encounters, which I don’t do so much in blogs but there’s a load of stuff in the book that’s really going to piss him off if I ever quit noodling and actually get the damn thing written. It is a hard knock life for the partner of a person with very little filter and a 21st century amenity toward laying it all out there for the world to see. He is a very private person, and sadly for him, I am not. So while he’s not looking, let’s post another photo of him with a cat:




If he asks, tell him I posted this instead:



Okay, so back to DSS’s very interesting commentary.

I am certainly no expert on relationships, but through the extensive practice of making the worst choices possible, as often as possible, I have narrowed the stupidity down somewhat.


First, and probably most importantly, you can’t make a silk purse of out a sow’s ear. My mother told me that when I was 10 and I never forgot it, primarily because I didn’t know what a sow was and I couldn’t understand why you would want to make a purse out of an ear. Gross. But these are wise words that can be applied to many situations. In romance, as in cooking, you have to start with high quality raw material.


After years of choosing drugged out underachievers, selfish jerks, cheaters, and narcissists, I graduated to someone with a very kind heart and an enormous amount of integrity. This wasn’t genius on my part. I just thought he was hot and I got lucky that he was interested and as beautiful inside as he is out. He finds my intensity entertaining and he is very patient with the crazy, so much so that there is much less of it these days. Well, relatively speaking. And our neuroses suit each other. Sometimes you can really like or love someone but it simply isn’t a good fit, and this is probably more difficult than dating a total creep because the “correct” path is harder to navigate. 


Second, when I have made choices that have not served me well, which has been often, it was because I wasn’t ready for anything better. Meaning that I did not feel that I deserved to be loved properly, and if someone perfect had come along at that time I wouldn’t have noticed them because they wouldn’t give me the trouble I thought I so richly deserved. 


Also, along those lines, bad relationships and spending time with assholes are a fabulous way to keep from looking within at whatever things about yourself that you don’t feel good about. If you have the noise of arguments ringing in your ears you can’t hear the sound of your own self-hatred and fear. You can focus on how shitty the other person is, which keeps you preoccupied and gives you a warm feeling of superiority. To quell that noise and really look within can be excruciating. When I was absolutely forced to do it, I felt like I was dying. I really did. It felt as if I dropped into a black hole that I would never crawl out of and it was a slow and painful claw into the sunlight. 


It’s only very recently that I’ve learned how to be a good partner and trust myself and the other person. I’m still a work in progress, but now when I look back much of the shit I put myself through seems almost comical. Once you learn the lesson, in your soul rather than just knowing it intellectually in your brain, you never have to take that particular class again. 


The people in our lives are mirrors to what we are giving out energetically, and to how we feel about ourselves. So being faced with constant criticism from a partner means that this is what we feel we deserve, and maybe that this is how we view the world, with a critical and/or jaundiced eye. 


Ask yourself about all your relationships, not just romantic: 


–How do I feel when I am around this person? Do I feel loved, supported, positive, energized? Or do I walk away feeling resentful, drained, angry, sad, bad about myself, used, or unseen?


–What do I bring to my relationships? Am I the one that is draining, unhappy, selfish, ambivalent? Or am I giving too much with expectations and and then feeling frustrated because it’s not reciprocated?


–Who am I when I am with this person? Do I like myself and my behavior? Do I do things I swore I wouldn’t do?


I realized one day, probably years into our relationship, that being with Drew made me want to be a better person. It became less important to be right all the time, and I desired to live up to what I feel he deserves. This was a very new feeling for me, and a new awareness clicked in. It wasn’t that he was perfect, and I certainly never will be, but it became about a higher way of relating. 


In your case DSS, maybe it was just a bad day and you have some decent raw material to work with and you just have to do some girl-pounding on the clay (sorry guys). Maybe it’s time to do some examination, or maybe it’s time to kick his criticizing ass to the curb. Only you can decide that for yourself, and I thank you for the opportunity to think and write about it.


And lastly, because he’s still in the other room, let’s post another photo that amuses me. This is Drew’s band The New Rising Sons, who formed and were signed to Virgin in the late 90’s. I never get tired of those pants and that hat. You’re welcome, America.



Drew.0

DREW: Do you like the boots I bought you?

ME: Yes, they’re gorgeous, thank you. I’m psyched.


DREW: And dinner at Blue Ribbon, that was pretty good, right?


ME: Yes, it was amazing, thank you. I loved it.


DREW: And I’m not hungover, I had two beers at work last night, that’s it.


ME: I know, you seemed very sober when you came in


DREW: And look, I’m cooking things in the microwave on a plate, like you asked me over and over again, instead of on a paper towel.


ME: That is fabulous! Words cannot describe how happy that makes me.


DREW: It’s Drew point 0 for 2012. More awesomeness than ever. 


ME: You were awesome before, but now it looks like you might be perfect.


DREW: I know! I am! I don’t think I can get any better. This is it, I’ve reached my apex as a boyfriend. The sad thing is that I can only go down from here. 


ME: Wow. Well, you’re just going to have to maintain. It’s all about maintenance now, you don’t have to struggle to go up anymore.


DREW: Totally! But it’s exhausting being so good. I need a nap. Which is a shame because I just made the bed.


ME: Perfection does have its price. 


DREW (from the bedroom): Drew point 0, bitches!


Jerky Christmas



ME (Turning on overhead light while Drew is sleeping): HEY!

DREW (squinting): What?? Turn that off, it’s too bright.


ME: Are we going to have a good Christmas?


DREW: You tell me. Are we?


ME: We are if you can stop being a jerk. That’s why I’m asking.


DREW: Well I’m asking too. I’m not being a jerk. Are you going to stop being a jerk?


ME: I’M not being a jerk. You’re being a jerk. 


DREW: You’re the jerk. Turn the light off.


ME: Not until you say you’re going to stop being a jerk.


DREW: Okay, you’re going to stop being a jerk.


(pause)


ME: Light’s still on.


DREW: All right. I’ll stop being a jerk! Turn it off!


ME: Okay, then we’re going to have a good Christmas.


(light goes off)


DREW (quiet voice from the dark bedroom): You know, some people might say that only a JERK would turn the light on like that.


ME: I can’t hear you! But since you’re up, wanna watch Scrooge?