Diary of an adult runaway

Ok, who knows the answer to this?

Help! I have this image in my head that I can't get rid of and won't be able to do until someone tells me what it is. It's an album cover (yeah, remember those?) of a woman with long dark hair looking back over her right shoulder. If I remember correctly, she's slightly afraid, in that whole white-nightie-Gothic ingenue look, and she could be running from something--not sure why I think that, maybe the background is a little blurred? Could be city lights. I'd say it's of late 70's/early 80's vintage because she's wearing lipgloss.

I thought it could be Linda Ronstadt, but the closest I could find was this:

Wrong shoulder, and the woman in my mind is more side on to the camera. Then I tried The Cars, coz... hell, why not?...but that got me nowhere. I even tried Springsteen. (Whaaaaa?)

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

Well, I'll be damned, it worked!

I have a favorite dress. It's mocha brown and stretchy, fits where it should fit and flares where I want it to most ;-) I loooooove this dress--I put it on, pull on my cowboy boots and away I go. It's one of those things you wish you'd bought 2 of, coz you're going to wear it until it falls apart--you're going to sleep in it, it feels that good. Swear to God, the first time I wore it, three different men stopped in the street to watch me sashay by. I don't know if it was because I looked good or felt good, but it's that kind of dress.

Malheuresement, me being me, I got a grease spot on it, and not in a place you can easily hide. About 3 weeks ago. And I didn't do anything because I didn't know what to do--I didn't want to make it worse. Today I finally decided to Google "get grease stains out of clothing" and came up with a whole heap of remedies. For some reason, the one that spoke to me was this:

1. Wad up some paper towel and put it on the back side of the stain.

2. Spray some WD40 onto a Q-tip (not directly onto the dress!) and dab it on the stain then blot with paper towel.

3. Wash as per usual.

I hesitated. I knew WD40 had a wide range of uses but really? Hmm... I figured I had nothing to lose, because...while I was hesitating about this one, I managed to track another copy of the dress down online and it's currently winging its way to Tamara's place for me to pick up in July. Yay! So away I went and--double yay!!--oil spot gone.

Guess what I'm wearing tomorrow?

This can't be good

I live on the main drag to Sacré-Coeur. It's a Y-shaped configuration: two streets curve either side of the small park opposite my place, while a pedestrian-only path runs directly below my balcony. Which means thousands upon thousands of people pass by my place every day, especially this time of year--it doesn't really quiet down here until 2AM. So at 9.30 tonight when I noticed the sound level had dropped off, I peered out the windows and here's what I saw:

Peeking down at the pedestrian walk, I see that's also taped off. The road on the right leads to Place du Tertre (you know, where all the painters are) and Sacré-Coeur. Whatever's happened, it seems like it's around the corner, on Rue Norvins. I suppose I could be like the man from the 2nd floor and run out to ask the cops crowded around the bakery what's going on but I don't think that's a good idea (apart from the fact that your average Paris cop is far cuter than your average local). Could be an emergency--could be simply that someone "important" was up in the Place--I'm sure I'll find out from my morning friend. I don't know her name but we see each other one the way to work every few days and she lives right above the Place du Tertre so she'll be sure to fill me in. Or someone will be talking about it when I'm doing my laundry tomorrow.

Montmartre--part of Paris and yet not, a village in its own right. Never a dull moment and no place in Paris I'd rather live. J'aime mon quartier! :-)

And it's about time

(05-15) 11:16 PDT SAN FRANCISCO -- Gays and lesbians have a constitutional right to marry in California, the state Supreme Court said today in a historic ruling that could be repudiated by the voters in November.

In a 4-3 decision, the justices said the state's ban on same-sex marriage violates the "fundamental constitutional right to form a family relationship."

All right! But here's my question: what's Brothers & Sister's Kevin going to bitch about now? Oh, and hey, didn't I totally call the Rebecca/Justin storyline? Not that it was tough--as soon Ken Olin turned up, we knew what was going on.

'Nother question for you. If some seizième lycéen (schoolkid [late teens] from a toney part of town) tries to SHOVE past you when you're both getting off the bus, is elbowing him right in his pink shirt and saying "Wait your turn, you little prick" consider child abuse? No, I didn't think so either.

Some pics I took yesterday, starting with stormclouds over Paris:

Um...art, anyone?

More pink, as Fauchon sets up for the day

La Madeleine, still dirty after all these years.

Do you see that?! I've taken this route hundreds of times and yesterday was the first time I saw the red Chinese....whatever it is

L'Arc de Triomphe from Avenue Hoche

A villa (which means private street)

Pretty pastel seating

A "little" house near work--they just demolished the glass room on top and restored it to its original state. Love it.

The building I work in is on the left. The building at the end of the street? The Iraq Embassy. Yeah.

Who loves ya, Frankie? Me!! Me!! I do!!

I remember this day ten years ago. It was a Friday and I got home around 6.25, really happy--no reason, I was just in a good Friday arvo mood. I turned on the TV to catch the last of the news and heard Mal Walden say "Blah blah blah...on the day the world lost Ol' Blue Eyes."

Good mood? Gone. In its place was tears--what Oprah calls the ugly cry. Yes, we'd known Frankie wasn't doing well but he couldn't really have died. He was my mother's favorite singer, he'd been there all my life, so cool in his orange cardigan--the only person who could look cool in an orange cardy. While the news played a photo montage to My Way, I went into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of red and tried to open it. The damn thing wasn't going to give up without a fight. So there I was, sobbing the ugly sob, struggling to open the bottle. Then I looked out the kitchen window and there was Trevor, my next door neighbor the cop, in his kitchen. Staring at me.* Come on! Cut me some slack, Frankie died!

(*That is by far not the worst thing he ever saw me doing. There was the night Kurt and I were drinking absinthe and turned off the lights to watch the sugar burn in the spoon--then realized he probably thought we were cooking up crack. And then there was the time we painted the kitchen and Kurt lit up a joint to celebrate the end so I told him to smoke it in the living room where Trev couldn't see it--then I got involved and wandered into the kitchen to admire our handiwork with a big fat spliff in my gob. In our defense, though, that's nowhere near as bad as what he got up to. Cops. That's all I'll say.)

So, it's been 10 years since Frankie died and I still miss his crooning and his coolness*. I'm sure the animal shelters and other causes he funded miss him, too. It's high time he got his own stamp--look at those laughing eyes! Elvis will always be #1 on my hit parade but Frank, right there at #2. (And you know, while Frank was initially threatened by Elvis, they became friends to the point where it was Frank's plane carrying some of the Memphis Mafia to Vegas for Elvis and Priscilla's wedding.)

Re: coolness: Kurt and I watched the Dean Martin roast of Frank last year and were crying from laughter. Perhaps the funniest of all was, get this, Ronald Reagan! (Kinda makes me think of how George Bush'd be a fun guy to go drinking with--and that's where it should end.) Here's a clip (I do miss Ruth Buzzey):

This track is one of my favorites and never fails to make me smile. It's from an album I love, Some Nice Things I've Missed. The Amazon reviews are wildly mixed but I agree with the reviewer who said it sounds like Frankie was having fun. His voice was mature--he had less control but it was so warm, especially on You Turned My World Around and The Summer Knows. Actually, I think I liked his voice more as it matured, just as I liked his face more:

Although, he was cute back in 1938 when he got arrested for...get this...seduction! (A woman claimed Frank had sex with her twice on the promise of marriage. When the cops found out she was already married, they dropped the charges.)

Controversial, caustic, kind--a complex character, an awesome entertainer. They used to say it was Frank's world, we just lived in it. Thanks, Frank.

In the immortal words of Bill Withers...

Lovely day, lovely day, such a lovely day.

Except it was a weekend filled with lovely days. Here's proof:

The light breeze kept any smog away.

The Moulin de la Galette

The Montmartrobus struggles up the hill, laden with tourists. 

Pumpkin showed his love for his new catnip-laced griffoir (scratching post--he's sleeping on it)...

...before playing with his catnip-laced toys (that boy has a problem)...

...while Kody and I cuddled (look closely).

Sometime ago I threatened to paint this apartment--one wall lime green, another raspberry, etc, etc. Then I decided I really liked the white (read: couldn't be fucked trying to decide exactly which paint, haul it and assorted products up the stairs, then listen to Crazy Marcelle, the nutbag next door, go off because ohmygod, I might have made a noise or the paint might actually smell) and I'm glad I left it because the light in this place is amazing and I have plenty of color all around. To wit:

My new summer bag. I am so grooving on this green.

A little red in the kitchen? Why yes, thank you.

A little blue

For the record, what the painting looked like when I bought it 3 years ago...hmmm

Fall colors

Where the bags are

Command central

Eenie meenie minie mo...

Pretty birds all in a row

Well, they will be if I can ever take them out of the box, I love the way they look.

Cherries jubilee--supplies for a writing project + the ghost of Kody again (and no, I don't mean the paw)

I even color-coded some of my books (!!)

The writing/craft corner/stereo area (the iBook)

I decided to stop fighting the pink in the bathroom and just go with it. The sink is pink, as are the bidet, the bathtub and the litter tray. (Spared ya that.)

Hey, I thought you were dead! The clematis that I thought I killed whilst in hospital roars back to life...

Followed by the lavender I also presumed dead.

My new pride and joy--the first peony I've ever reared!

And my favorite colors of all: white and orange.

Things that make my heart happy

Pumpkin takes some afternoon sun

Kody, tired after his Big Day Out (the boys went to get their Euro passports last week and visited Auntie Jenny's place after the vet's--much to Cherry & Phoebe's disgust)

Havaianas, pink toenails and (in orange circle) Le Temps des Cerises, open for business

The weather here is absolutely glorious (it cannot be underestimated how stuh-ning Paris is at this time of year)--kept us warm through a 4-day weekend and ushered us into this 5-day one. Wait, wait, let me say that again:

5-DAY WEEKEND!!

2 are official holidays--Armistace Day and something else, I don't know--and the other's a gimme from work. (Seriously, I work for one of the best organizations in the world.) It feels like all of Paris worked their arses off to get to yesterday evening, I know we did, then everyone--well, those who stayed in town--were ready to drink.  Elma, Philippe and I headed for the only place I know in town (apart from chez moi) that does good margaritas and chicken wings. Yes, the Hard Rock. Sad, I know, but such is the state of Margaritaville here. We all had it in our heads it was Boulevard des Italiens then got there and...no Hard Rock!!  Disappeared. What. The. Hell. Okay, let's got to Tex Mex. Closed!! We ended up instead at the closest Hippopotamus, the first time I've ever been to on and may I just say, never again. Poor service, terrible chicken wings and pina coladas without rum. A pox on their house. Then I got home, checked online and Hard Rock? Boulevard Montmartre, just around the corner from des Italiens. So how come all 3 of us independently came up with des Italiens...no idea.

Today, very quiet morning, lots of lazing around, eating Dairy Milk and catching up on some TV viewing. Part-watched Untraceable. Make that Unwatchable. Made myself feel better by panting over admiring Max on Dancing With The Stars. So hope he's back next season, I just love his ass attitude. And then, while my friends are weekending in Italy and Tunisia and Spain, I ... cleaned my apartment. Oh, yes, thrilling. But my little place on the hill is now shiny and bright and breezy, smelling luscious from the Pineapple Citrus candles and allllll ready for the painting I'm picking up from Le Temps in the next few days: a sultry, sexy Balinese dancer/musician in mermaid colors. Mine, mine, all mine! Then tomorrow, after What Happens In Vegas, I'm booking my U.S. flights. Still trying to decide when to fly out, though I'm thinking June 29. (You reading, Tee? Get that guest room ready and open up that wet bar!) That's another thing I love about the Northern Hemisphere, how we get to take real summer holidays because Christmas isn't in the middle of it all. I love hearing people's plans--but not as much as I like making my own :-)

Right now, it's still warm and there are a few people floating around outside but it's relatively quiet. Just perfect for sleeping with the balcony doors opens to get that sweet breeze.  Night!

Or, maybe even, you know, OFFICIAL ;-)

Spotted at a Houston rally against amnesty for illegal immigrants:

Heh.

My kinda kid

From Overheard In New York:

Mother to child: Shut up!
Child: Don't you dare use that language with me! You're so disrespectful!

--85th & 3rd

Exactly. Why is it that some adults think they can speak with impunity to kids, as if they're not humans? Galls me even more when those kids happen to be their kids. Okay, sure, I know some kids are horrors but you know, you reap what you sow. I just loved this kid speaking up for its rights!

Busy, busy, busy, BUSY week, no time yet to blog about what a FAB time was had Saturday night with 8 other chicas, shrieking "Dude!" and "Awesome!" and "Another margarita, please!", but I will. Thanks, Antipo, for setting it all up, you fucking rock!

Enough time to post this, though. Every hour or so, when the work gets too much, I watch this, giggle, then dive back in (aided by the Tim Tams someone brought back from mission in AuStralia, huzzah!). Needless to say, I want these, every single one of them:

Meme!!

Tagged by Amra (who has a fabulous book due out later this year--perfect Christmas present for everyone on your list!). Here's how it works:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open it to page 123
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you (and I understand that etiquette calls for you to avoid "tagging" someone else who has already been sent the meme, if possible).

My book is The Book of Joe by Jonathan Tropper, which is still rocking my world. And here's page 123:

"I knew it!" he exclaims gleefully. "Do tell, do tell."

I quickly relate all the events of the past day, listening to Owen's delighted gasps while Jared watches me, listening raptly, smirking when I include the incident of his coitus interruptus. "So let's review," Owen says when I'm done, not even trying to conceal his merriment. "In the last twenty-four hours, you've returned to your hometown, where essentially everybody hates you, you've been reunited, however awkwardly, with your estranged family, you've walked in on a sexual liasion, gotten into trouble with the law, been assulted on two separate occasion, and met up with an ailing friend and gotten drunk with him. Am I leaving anything out?"

Ok, yeah, so technically more than 3 sentences but it tells you just how badly things are going for Joe. Owen completely reminds me of Evan Handler's character in Californication, he's an excellent kick-in-the-ass for Joe. Not like Joe doesn't get enough of those. I especially love the ex who calls him every few days to spew bile then hang up, while he just listens and nods along.

So, the lucky folks tagged are: Rosie, Kathy Holmes, Robyn, Keris, and Ms. Mac. Knock yourselves out, chicas!