Trading Jesus for Jesus

It's a wonder anyone reads my shit anymore!
I NEVER POST!

It's because I'm in Tucson now working on a project that actually has IMPORTANCE.
(This happens once every two years. I set my biological clock by it. Sort of... in that my biological clock is mainly concerned with alcohol consumption and depravity, namely mine and once every two years I have to put this on hold and PRODUCE. It's killing me. My liver is softening. I can hear it.)

Thursday I get to fly to Seattle and spend quality time with Cienna, Friday night Eric, who has been languishing at a cabin on Lk Wenatchee (FUCKING SEASONAL EMPLOYEE) will drive in with my beloved DOGS and I get quality time with them, and Saturday night my adored son flys in and spends a couple days with me and his sister, culminating in an MF Doom concert.
I am so sick of not being home I could stab people just to pass the pain around.
I carry my tweezers, which I only ever use on others for this specific purpose. Plucking the random hair from another and the subsequent surprised and horrified squeel gives back to me some of that which has been taken.

Several Random Quick Facts:
There is a man here from The South who looks like a possum. Exactly.
Though I have hiked for literally hours this weekend, I saw NO JAVELINAS. I saw 2 roadrunners.
Arizona propoganda would have you believe the desert is filthy with them. Not So.
It is filthy, however, with Border Patrol.
I got in an uninformed (both parties, woefully) argument about illegals and Why They Should(nt) be Stopped last night with a man I normally respect.
I say, Fuck It. Let them come in. Keep out only Those Who Mean Us Harm (Methodists... and people who believe they are part of God's/Allah's Big Smiting Plan)...keep the zealots out. Like we have a birthright to this country we stole?
Whatthefuck?
Anyway...

More Later...I promise.
DOes anyone believe me any more?

Things to Do in Denver When You're a Fed

Of course, I am not actually in Denver, but some tacky little suburb called 'Lakewood' and then I am actually not 'in' anything, so much as shelved at some out of the way hotel on a dark service road at the end of a business district. The only place to eat/drink within reasonable walking distance is Bennigans or Dennys. My fellow committee members (higher paid DC types who iron their pants and lug their ridiculous technology everywhere on little wheeled conveyances or as the only pocket bulges they'll ever sport) go to Bennigans. Where they drink their one and a half cocktails and chat one another up about Our Work. Shudfuckingder.
That is how I imagine it anyway, standing outside on the sidewalk peeking in at them. They sit earnestly in 2 big groups, chatting perched on too tall bar stools, eating nachos and salads and drinking...it looks like chardonnay. Sob. As if there were no Vodka. Or gin...whiskey. Real drinks. As if that's what separates them from The Beasts. (Besides the double pane glass and an inability to care about DATA).
They will split the check down to slivers of copper and it will take so long that the server will begin to hate them in earnest.
I did not rent a car. Oh, how I parch.

But, thankfully, this is only a 2.5 day meeting. Which is all we need to put together our plan for national De-saster Management. As it pertains to fire. Which should reassure you, good citizen, immensely, if the fact that we spent the day discussing Data Relationahip Entity Diagrams doesn't .
I hate fucking diagrams. Just hammer my skull and shove nails in my ears. When the west is one big wall of flame licking its way east, take comfort in the fact that we have wall charts detailing who gets what information when. Because we can't afford to man our trucks, or contract retardant planes. We have to cut government somewhere.

This is just our FIRST meeting. There will be 2 more. AND a conference call. I'm sure we'll have an acronym in the end that will cutsify your public safety and make it all worth while.

Today in Katy...er, OTTO? REBECCA BUNNYMAN? WHO AM I?

Are you all (3 or so) getting sick of me switching blogs?
Quiting one and starting another?
It's because I'm IN A SLUMP and don't do oxycontin. Or even spell it, actually. I just thought of that as my EXCUSE DU JOIR... Don't you hate people who sprinkle french and german words into their everyday bad english as if they spoke a second language though in reality they struggle with the first? I don't either. I hate fat people....just kidding!

I've copied all my posts from the Salon blog (I am Eating my Husband's Soul) to typepad and now they are ...in bad need of editing. Some of the posts are crap, and the actual formating is fucked up. PLUS: I intend to spend some time moulding it into something that goes somewhere. Because I love monkeys. I truly truly do. We went way too far down the evolution path, as far as I'm concerned. Wrong turn.

And Tata: If you know where I can get some of this barbeque sauce, I could use a new friend. Someone in the commuting/stealing area who knows how to hold her liquor and a flashlight while I Do My Work. That faithless hag Cyn Dee stood me up for the xmas holidays....because of a slight chance that a MAN would call.
How fucked up is that?

Next week I go to Denver for the week, then on to Tucson till the end of the month.
For Government work. Because I still have a job. Which leads me to:
I think I'll post back on typepad mostly (thestain) (and maybe IAEMHS, the typepad version if I get it edited) for ease. (Of getting me fired). And because fuck it. My mother dealt with it, Eric's mom can. Schadenfreude, n'est pas?.

By the way, my daughter has a cult following due to her feature writing for thestranger. I am proud. And yet, somehow I think I'm using it as another excuse to not do my own writing. If only I had another skill. Like...uh...
Hm.
Chainsaw artistry. Or being able to eat the most hot dogs.

Yeah.