I'm back, sort of

My router is all f'd up, so it takes longer than dial up to connect to any webpage, and when it does, it doesn't pull up anything hi-res. Needless to say, I haven't blogged since Feb 27. The only internet access I've had has been at work, and right now, I'm at a local pub using the wifi.

So what's happened in over a month? I don't remember, so it must've been good. Here are the highlights I recall in no particular order:

* SBT won't talk to me anymore. I'm a threat.
* 2shirts and I got a little tipsy over a bottle of really good wine at a local wine bar. We were grading papers at the time. A glassful of vino helps the grading go down...
* Finished up work at Crazytech. Whew!
* Met a bunch of rocket scientists at the local pub. Yes, literally, they are rocket scientists. Why did that night remind me of a night out with Glinda?
* # of hangovers: 4. Evidentally I have not taken up G's need to end consumerism.
* # of visits to Bizarro Catbirds: 0
* # of visits to Catbirds: 1; I did not get blitzed, but I did have one Caucasian and scared Nerfherder a bit. I think I've become a Maneater.
* # of men frightened: 4
* Spent an entire Friday at the art museum in the old hood. I miss the old hood.
* Made $300 at a fundraiser. Thanks, guys.
* Pretended to be a photographer at a wedding. 110 pics out of 300 something were good. Works for me. Hopefully it works for the artist formally known as Narc.
* Narc is now known as BJ, not for his ability or desire to give or receive BJs but because he is Bizarro Jerry. This requires an entire post to itself, but I'm not sure I'm up to it today.
* Met the New Narc or NuNarc as he will be dubbed on this blog. Unbelievable. Apparently he thinks I'm pretty but not hot enough to make him want to rip off my dress. Wow. What a ladies man.
* Favorite text message [from Glinda]: "I'm watching a Mariah Carey video with unicorns. WTF? Oh, and a midget spanked me." Apparently, she was not high.
* Hung out at same local pub with some guys who race professionally. I actually used the term Chilton manual in a conversation. Note to self: professional race boys don't like Chimay, only drink Bud products, and think older women are hot. Nice to know.
* Was approached to apply for a position as an Old Spice Girl. That's Old Spice the product, not an old Spice Girl. Still, it makes me giggle. I see myself next to Sporty with Old Spice written in Sharpie across my chest singing: "So tell me what you want, what you really, really want.."
* # of times I've declined a drink from someone with a beer tshirt on at ye local pub since I've started writing this post: 4.

That's about it, folks. I'd post about the Bizarro Jerry thing, but it's lost its humor, I fear.

*

Living up to his name

Oh, and this goes out to Narc, who called and left a vm saying that he simply couldn't believe that I scored higher than him on the computer geek test.

Yeah, and you're not a narcissist!

YOU asked for it

This morning (way too early I might add) I received a voicemail from a Baylor friend of mine with whom I reconnected a few nights ago. I was going to come up with a clever name for him for the blog, but after today's phone call, he has now been dubbed Narc, not for his ability to sniff out drugs but for the flower which bears his name.

I met Narc 11 years ago in Brooks Hall (was it Brooks?), staring at his reflection in the mirror he usually kept hidden under his bed. The reflection he saw, however, was not a physical one (he would've been appalled by the NoZe he saw in the mirror); instead, it reflected his intellect, and he loved to ponder that. His best friend and roommate was my boyfriend at the time, and Narc, though unabashedly enamoured with me, kept his feelings to himself (literally) and fell in love with his own reflection--well, at least the one in his magic mirror.

Unlike the Greek youth who also shares his name, Narc's Echo never made advances toward him (at least not in real life--maybe in his fantasy world); nevertheless, he spurned his feelings for her anyway, and this is why he's forced to live a life of solitude, pining away at the shrine he's made for her in his darkroom and retreating back to his mirrored intellect, his safe ZoNe.

Now a fledgling photographer (trading the pool for a lens), Narc only uses his French degree to woo women into bed with lines like, "Quel type de fromage vous fait veut à minuit," and while he generally succeeds (heaven knows why), he still returns home in the wee hours of the morning to sleep near his Echo shrine with mirror in hand. It's a sight that would bring tears to one's eyes: poor thing in fetal position, mirror curled up beneath his runny NoZe, one hand reaching out to touch the sorority buttons he stole from her, candid snapshots, Breakfast at Tiffany's poster (because she reminds him of Holly), and the pilfered gum wrappers he thought might still contain a drop of her saliva--a sad, sad sight.

We had dinner on Tuesday and then spent the evening drinking Caucasians and watching Groundhog's Day and KOTH Season 6 while listening to the Kimday Mix and quoting lines from Lebowski (for a second there, Prax, it was like hanging out with you). Like the Black Widow that I am, I got him sufficiently snockered with smooth tasting drinks and tucked him in on my couch (wait a minute, Prax, are you sure it wasn't you?). Nothing of Crankvalue to report, but it was nice to reconnect with an old friend. I planned to post something, but there wasn't much to report that would fit the crankiness of the blog; I mean it was just your typical evening of drinks and Lebowski, and my readers are growing weary of such tales. I guess I could've posted about all of the friends we had in common: my anger infested ex is now a pastor (WTF is up with THAT??); another friend finally came out and then went right back into the closet, but his career is taking off, so I guess that's a plus; another friend quit writing Penthouse letters and is now successful in politics somewhere (don't worry Mouse, I won't come forward with your secret). I guess that would've made for an interesting post, but I've been too busy to do so.

This morning, however, when I received the complaint via voicemail that I hadn't written anything about him on my blog, I felt the need to dub him with his new name and give him his own little post. Sorry, Narc, it doesn't live up to the third leg of the trifecta you see in me (vitriolic humor)--I haven't had my espresso yet.

Smooches, dear, and I hope to hang out again soon! :-)