Monthly Archives: July 2006
My friend and former student N.E. has moved into the apartment on the top floor of our house. Today we had the following email exchange:
On 7/25/06 at 9:47 a.m., N.E. wrote: Whatever, I’m tired and spacey and have a ridiculous backlog of work and woke up with the finale of Jane Eyre: The Musical in my head.
On 7/25/06 at 10:52 a.m., Faustus wrote: I’m shocked that you retained even a note of the finale of Jane Eyre.
On 7/25/06 at 11:12 a.m., N.E. wrote: Isn’t it depressing?
On 7/25/06 at 1:58 p.m., Faustus wrote: Yes.
On 7/25/06 at 2:16 p.m., N.E. wrote: I could just kill myself. Then you could tell everyone who visits your house that someone once committed suicide on the top floor. (“Ooh, when?” “Last Tuesday.”)
I understand how people could think the reason Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes have allowed no one to see their daughter Suri is that she is a fiction dreamed up by a closeted gay action-movie hero and his desperate and talentless beard, but I don’t believe it.
Because I think Suri exists, and the Scientologists have her.
It’s just like Rosemary’s Baby, actually. Picture it: There’s a hidden apartment next door and Suri is lying there in a black bassinet. Katie comes in and says, “What have you done to her? What have you done to her eyes?” And then John Travolta is like, “She has her father’s eyes.” And Katie’s like, “Oh, God! Oh, God!” And then Priscilla Presley snaps, “Oh, shut up with your ‘oh, Gods’ or we’ll kill you, milk or no milk,” and then Kirstie Alley says, “You shut up. Katie’s her mother. Show some respect.”
Come on, you know I’m right.
A couple weeks ago I posted a request for copies of Us, In Touch, and Life & Style, along with a promise to explain why I wanted them.
A promise fulfilled late is better than a promise never fulfilled, so I will reveal that I wanted them so that I could prepare for an audition to be one of the co-hosts of this:
Unfortunately, the producers decided not to call me back for a second audition.
So it turns out we have a small family of mice in our kitchen.
This is in fact really good, for two reasons. First, there seem to be only four of them, a mother and three kids, so they will be fairly easy to deal with, unlike the last time the place I lived in had a mouse infestation.
And second, since the mice have cleverly avoided the instant-kill traps we put down, I am filled with joy because I can write “get poison” on my to-do list.
Dear Woman Who Stormed Out of the Step Class I Was Subbing Yesterday Afternoon After I Offered You My Risers in Response to Your Request That I Speed the Music Up Even More Than I Already Had in Response to Your Previous Requests, Even Though it Was Already at a Faster Tempo Than I Feel Comfortable Teaching at and a Faster Tempo Than the Guy Who Usually Teaches the Class Teaches at and a Faster Tempo Than Step Guidelines Allow, and Even Though You Were the One Person in the Entire Class Who Was Barely Moving and Maybe If You Had Listened When I Kept Saying, “Knees Higher, Everybody!” (Although You Were the Only Person Whose Knees Weren’t High Enough and so I Was Actually Just Talking to You) You Might Have Felt Like You Were Getting Exercise Although You Were Still Sweating Up a Storm Even With the Barely Moving, and Then Came Back After Class Was Over and Yelled at Me in Front of Everybody for Having Some Nerve Embarrassing You Like That in Front of the Class and You Had a Knee Injury (Although You Didn’t Bother Telling Me That at the Beginning of Class When I Asked if Anybody Had Any Injuries I Should Know About) and My Class Was Boring (Although Everybody Else Was Very Clearly Having a Lot of Fun) and Basic (Although You Kept Missing Steps) and I was Unprofessional and Disgusting and Shouldn’t Be Teaching and a Sub and Didn’t Know My Place and Then Stormed Back Out, at Which Point Five People in the Class Told Me They’d Had a Great Time and They Had No Problem With the Tempo and They Thought You Had Been Completely Inappropriate:
Very truly yours,
P.S.: My boyfriend, who is a psychiatrist, says you have Borderline Personality Disorder. –F
Last night I cooked dinner using every single pot and pan in the kitchen.
Okay, I’m exaggerating a little bit. But not by much.
My dastardly plan succeeded. We are getting a dishwasher.
I have made a dreadful, dreadful mistake. I am going to have to break up with E.S., put the house on the market, and throw myself back into the world of
anonymous group sex dating with an unparalleled frenzy in hopes of finding a boyfriend who is not an insane crazy person.
E.S. and I were talking about what we want to do with the kitchen, and I pointed out that we have to leave room for a dishwasher.
And he said no.
We argued violently about this for twenty minutes. “I’ve never had a dishwasher,” he said, “and I wouldn’t use one if we got it.”
And suddenly I saw the truth, as devastatingly as if it had been Zeus revealing himself in his splendor. “You think having a dishwasher is a sign of moral weakness, don’t you?” I said.
“Honey, of course having a dishwasher is a sign of moral weakness,” he replied. “You’re the one who’s deluding yourself by saying it’s not.”
Sweet Jesus, what have I done?
This is not a joke:
Would anybody be willing to lend me the last month’s worth of In Touch Weekly, Us Weekly, and/or Life & Style Weekly at some point before Wednesday? If you’re not in New York I’m happy to pay for express shipping.
If so, please email me.
I promise I will explain what this is all about on Thursday.
N.B.: This is today’s second entry.
If I understand correctly, the Speaker of the New York Assembly, Sheldon Silver, is doing everything he can to avoid taking a position on whether or not he supports a same-sex marriage bill; he says he wants to caucus the Assembly to determine its leanings before making a decision.
If you live in New York State, then, please call or email your Assembly representative and your state senator and urge them to make clear to Speaker Silver and other leaders their support of a same-sex marriage bill, to do what’s necessary to bring such a bill before the legislature as soon as possible, and to vote for it and encourage others to do the same.
(Thanks to her for this information.)
Here is another page with information on easy steps you can take to help our elected officials not fuck this up.
Yesterday, after the repulsive New York Court of Appeals decision that E.S. and I don’t have a constitutional right to get married, I actually thought for a long time about going to law school and becoming a lawyer so I could take a more active role in forcing our government to be less stupid.
Then I thought, oh, hell, I should just run for public office and take an even more active role than that.
Then I considered some of the things I’ve written on this blog and thought, no, really, law school should do it.
Then I went to sleep and woke up today and realized that I am a sane person, so instead I just called the Empire State Pride Agenda and left a message asking them how I can volunteer.