Friday, June 18, 2004

Frappucinos and Unitards

As my two loyal readers know, I have become obsessed with saving the life of a fish at my office. A black goldfish whose life has hung in the balance for a few weeks has become a much larger focal point in my life than it should. However, I am starting to see success with my maniacal hand-feeding, pea thawing therapy. If any of that sounds strange, read my previous post "Under Pressure...and saving Fish" and like an enlightened Buddha it will all come clear, my friends. Today he swam all day long in formal fish fashion. The pomp, the was beautiful. I swear he saluted me with a fin today. There was no floundering, no hovering like a drunken snorkler. What I saw today was quintessential goldfish flotation and it made me proud.

If this fish survives, I can only assume one thing. I have a gift. Nay, I am a fish savior. I'm not quite sure what that should get me, but I'd think at least a free frappucino from Starbucks. So here I sit in my bedroom thinking about my new found super-powers and I realize that I am about to walk a hard road. The same kind that people like Jesus, Ghandi, Aquaman, Spiderman, and all those Superfriends have walked before me. I am apprehensive and contemplative. I may be persecuted and pelted with rotten lettuce, but I believe that's a price I'm willing to pay.

So now the next logical question is, what should my costume look like? Jesus had his robes, the great abs and the crown of thorns. Ghandi had the glasses and Spiderman had the adult unitard. I think I need to do something somewhere between them all. I'm thinking something with a monocle, a headdress of some sort, and something not quite as form fitting as a unitard. This superhero is on Atkins and is making great progress, but isn't ready for a body suit. This is obviously a work in progress. I will see what I come up with over time. A costume can't be taken lightly.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Unicorns and Strippers

I will be homeless for the first time in my life come Friday. It will only be for four hours, but I believe it will be spiritually enlightening. I will wander the streets, perhaps hang out by the Home Depot and look for the best cardboard box to build my new home. I will make a cardboard sign and write something like, "I need a miracle" on it and beg for the kindness of strangers. Either I will walk away with a renewed faith in mankind and its philanthropy, or I'll continue loathing most people. It's a karmic roll of the dice.

Why will I be homeless? I'm sure you're wondering. My husband is throwing a bachelor party for a friend and since a stripper will be writhing on my coffee table and may deep throat some of my candles, I am banished. I am being kicked out of my own house by a woman I don't know and this intrigues me. I wonder what secrets the bachelor party strippers hold that the rest of us beautiful, yet mortal women are denied. It's this esoteric men's club that I want to investigate.

I respect these women and I don't think that what they do is demeaning. They choose it and they get paid for it. More power to them, but now this woman's choices are impacting my life. I won't have a home for Christ's sake and nothing pisses me off more than not having access to my own bathroom.

My husband is by no means a pig of a man. He does have webbed-toes which makes him a bit more amphibious and a better swimmer, but I digress. He's quite lovely in every sense of the word, but he does maintain this impenetrable code of silence that shrouds the mythic bachelor party. I think I'd see a freaking unicorn before I found out what really happens at these things. Perhaps it is best that I don't look into this any further. Ignorance may truly be bliss. However, I am big believer in knowledge. It's largely why I'm not stupid.

Short of becoming a stripper, which is no longer a career path I could pursue due to surgical scars and a fear of large cakes, I'm not sure how I will find out what goes on at these parties. I must devise a plan by Friday.

Under Pressure...and saving Fish

I've only had this site for a day, and it's already stressing me out. Chuck is demanding wisdom and pictures of animals...both of which I have plenty of. You know, I did what he said and got a site. Now he's demanding more. Are we sure that crying on his site (see the audio clips) is really his son and not him?

Unlike Chuck, I don't speak to millions of people everyday on the radio and the pressure of putting things out there everyday that some people would read is highly abnormal. I'm going to have to get used to this and think of more interesting things, because so far I'm not doing so well.

Let me tell you about my latest obsession. In my office there is a girl who has 2 goldfish. However, she doesn't care about them, hasn't named them and often wants to send them to their death via the toilet. One is black and one is white with what looks like a piece of sushi on his head. One day, their bowl was so cloudy it looked like the tank had cataracts and the fish were swimming like a paralyzed Mark Spitz. So I took it upon myself to clean that bowl and bring them back from the brink of death. Here is my first bit of wisdom--- something happens between man and beast when a life is spared. It's a connection that cannot be broken. It's very symbiotic and I have to say, those fish look at me with love. I am their savior and they know it. They show the proper respect.

I went on vacation a week ago and when I returned, the black fish was swimming awkwardly and he stayed at the surface. I did some internet research where I have self diagnosed my own gallbladder attack, so I knew I'd find the answer and that I was qualified to play veterinarian. It seems the fish has swim bladder disease and apparently feeding the fish frozen peas will help correct the problem. That's what the internet said, so it must be true. So I've been thawing green peas for this fish, but the problem is this. I put the peas in and they quickly float to the bottom, which the black fish can't get to because he's bobbing up at the top like a snorkler. I have literally tried to hand feed this fish, and it's worked some, but he misses more than Stevie Wonder swinging a baseball bat. So, the white fish is getting all of the benefits of the frozen peas. This is frustrating and clearly I have more important things to deal with.

I have decided that I have done all I can do and I'll have to let Darwin take over. I'll continue to feed them, but this hand-feeding bullshit needs to stop. This is taking up way too much of my time and I need to let this go.

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

First Time Blogger

Hello fellow bloggers and other nosy people who like to read people's diaries. Welcome to my site where I wish to impart wisdom, wit and cast voodoo spells. Really I don't know what I'm doing, but my friend Chuck told me I had to do this. He's much like that dog that told Son of Sam to kill people, only nicer. He just makes me blog.