I want to get a-way... I want to fly a-way..yeah..YEAH

Well it looks like all the talk of friends getting away has gotten to me. I cannot wait until October for Mexico and the desire to run away is very present.

So far it is looking like a short trip at the end of March to our favorite spot in Elk, California (near Mendocino) at the Sandpiper House Inn. (Yes, I know. Nothing like spelling it out. It is a house and also an inn.)

In 2002, we had the best homemade breakfast of Bourbon Chocolate Waffles (I know, may sound kind of "yuck", but they were fabu!) made lovingly by owner Althea which she rightly served with very thick and very yummy bacon along side my kind of standing-spoon coffee. They also treated us to the most incredible wine and cheese host with local wines from neighboring vineyards in Navarro and Philo - hence the names of the kittens we picked up there on that same first trip!

Going to the sea clears my my mind and invigorates me so completely that I feel I have taken the most wonderfully long journey. A rest well needed indeed considering my last couple of posts.

Here's to the sea!

I aim to please...

More Hard Gay you say? Can't get enough of that crazy-leather-clad, borderline character from Japan? Well here you are fans...

She's BALD, Jerry, BALD...

I loved that episode of Seinfeld. It's my two-cents on the no-news, hairless hootchie-mama that is Britney. Why, God, does SHE get to have kids?

Ode to Art Grrls Everywhere

She wears knee-socks

the un-mates that I will leave to suffer in silence

on her, look sweet

She sews and

cuts
and places holes in all the right places

Everything works out when you can front a Bettie Page, a Pageboy, a Bob, or a Shag

She runs down alleys

She rides mopeds

She struts - chin out She knows what lies behind a wink

or a tear

All she needs is a canvas

You're Sick...Sick I Tell You!

Well damn. I saw it coming. Working late again. No lunch. Pushing the limits of just how many times I can say, "Sure. No problem" without loosing my cool and now I am home launching my own brand of lung-butter. Partly my own damn fault though. After two years off the ciggies, I was feeling fine and nary a inkling of a cold or flu ran past me. Although the desire to smoke was always there. I really did enjoy the act of it because it usually involved a bar, friends who also drank and smoke and a joke or two in between. A lot of pent up stress was worked out in this way and in this most seductive environment. Overall, however, I despised the actual ashtray smelly all over hobo feeling it left me with. So I quit. Sometimes the occasional one here and there to remind me of why I quit would happen. But under duress, I have a tendency to be self-destructive and so I began lighting up just in time for the new year!

At first, I said it would be one a day. Just after work and preferably with a cocktail in hand. Just to relax. Ah, and there the lie began. It is too much sometimes to be so familiar with an act and think somehow you are not really, actually, going to become addicted. So amazing to be in my head and actually looking at the cigarette butts piling up and believing whole-heartidly this one in my hand is the last one. Even now, I am devising ways of how to somehow stick to the one cigarette rule despite the last 72 hours of my own impression of Bill the Cat.

I have very supportive friends and in truth, I could be less lazy with the mind and begin a healthier approach to relaxation. But where do I start?

Anyone know where I can find a jukebox, some oxygen and a joke telling little person name Madge?