« September 2002 | Main | November 2002 »
October 31, 2002
happy halloween
We've issued a broom advisory for the Los Angeles area. Due to low-lying cloud cover and marine layer, visibility is poor at less than 3-5 feet. The witch highway patrol is reporting several multi-broom accidents which has caused serious delays on many of the major thoroughfares. You all are encouraged to slow down, keep good distance between the witch in front of you, and fly carefully.
Thank you.
Posted by Moxie at 9:33 AM | Comments (11)
October 30, 2002
guest blogger: james traficant
You miss me, I know you do. Now that I'm tucked away in cell block C, it's far too easy for you all to forget about me. You may have noticed that I'm running some commercials on teevee. You'll hear me say, "No American should fear their government. You and I both know that many Americans fear their government." But from what Moxie tells me lots more of you fear my toupee.
You see it as a sign that I am trying to hide something, that I am dishonest. You think I am gauche. But us politicians have to look as good as the legislation we support and I think I look much better with the rug than without. That and the added height really makes my face appear thinner and more youthful.
But all this ruckus is why my next media blitz will include shots of me without it. If you think I'm terrifying with it on, just wait until you see the comb-over folks. That'll change your minds. By the time I get out of here in eight years -- you'll barely have forgotten the sight of my greasy scalp and bacon strips neatly spread across the dome.
But anyway, being in prison is not all that bad. I'm doing really well here. Not only am I Gritty "Spock" McGovern's bitch (you really don't want to know why they call him gritty) but I also have four of my own bitches. Life is treating me well, and as they say, "I haven't had this much sex since I was a boy scout leader."
All the guys like to try on my toupee. It helped me climb the social ladder here faster than I expected. I've never been so well liked. And it got me to thinking.
Since I have to make money for my campaign somehow, I'm starting a business from the comfort of my own cell. Traficant Toupees. I'm weaving them myself from hair I find here on the prison floors.
Let me know what you think and if you fear your government or if Moxie's right and it's just my toupee that keeps you up at night.
Posted by Moxie at 8:17 PM | Comments (25)
invited
I love to crash parties. I've said it before and I'll say it again -- if there is a party I haven't been invited to, I'm there.
Remember back in August when I crashed that party and posted all the pics of the topless go go dancer? (catch up here and here if you are new.)
Recently I was invited to the Halloween bash, thrown by the same two guys. Allen and Joe. I guess I gave them my email address, though I have no recollection of doing so. And I wasn't even drinking that night, well not much anyway!
The Halloween bash was a tempting offer since I know I'd return with lots of stories if history really repeats itself. Hopefully I'd take even more pictures of scantily clad women to post for you. I'm good to you guys that way.
But I've decided that I'm not going.
Why?
It's just not as much fun when I've actually been invited.
{Besides, I'd much rather hang with the likes of Matt Welch, Tony Pierce and crew to catch Tsar.}
Posted by Moxie at 1:19 PM | Comments (10)
2 years and counting
Posted by Moxie at 12:33 AM | Comments (53)
October 29, 2002
you hear that? it's me
I'm generally a nice calm person. But today for some reason I want to scream. Or hit something. No particular reason. And I'm not likely to do either.
I guess I feel liberated, if I do something out of character I could always use the Winona Ryder excuse, "I was preparing for a movie role."
For that matter people could do a lot of things and use that excuse.
"Officer, I had to have sex with a minor, I'm preparing for a role"
"I'm sorry for shooting up behind the Jack in the Box, but I'm playing an addict in a new film"
"I didn't mean to shout in the library, but I'm still in character"
"Seriously honey, my director gave me the clap because he wanted me to better understand the prostitute I'm playing."
Gah.
I'm restless today. Maybe tonight would be a good night to go out alone and play the "Oh! All my friends were supposed to be at *this* bar, won't you buy me a drink" game.
{Look! wKen is pimping for me!! whoo hoo!}
Posted by Moxie at 2:30 PM | Comments (11)
getting discovered
There's a very cute boy who lives around the corner. He's usually out in the yard with his dog in the mornings when I walk by to get coffee. Today was no different. We smile and talk, idle banter about his dog, "hi how you doin'" kind of stuff. He's a composer and just signed a deal with a major record label.
So what's the problem you ask? He lives with his girlfriend of course. It seems like every decent man in my age range is attached.
Goose and I were IM'ing last night and he said it's hard to meet girls at his college. I told him, if you think it's hard to meet someone IN college, just wait until you get out.
How does one meet a significant whatever? I've exhausted my friend's set ups. The bar route is fruitless and frustrating. Match.com was a complete waste of time. In the six months or so I had a profile up, I met a grand total of two guys. One of them was half my weight and the other smelled funny.
Lovely.
They say you shouldn't shit where you eat or some such thing, so it's a damn good thing I don't have a job. Looking back, that's been the only way I've ever met someone and had it work in the short term.
It's been a year folks, since I had a real date. Three hundred and sixty five days, no nookie. I'm begining to feel like an actress -- I just have to sit back, hope and wait to get "discovered." But I need to know where the old-style Hollywood and Vine of the dating world is first.
Posted by Moxie at 10:57 AM | Comments (63)
October 28, 2002
oh you know it -- i'm a daddy's girl
Having a good memory can be a detriment at times. But otherwise it's a marvelous thing. I remember being about 2 1/2 and my mom was trying to feed me yogurt. I ate it -- why you ask? I told her before taking my first spoonful that, "if Dad likes it, I like it!"
Not much has changed in the last 28 years.
I just got to spend 5 days with my Daddy and we still like the same things. Like books, the news, travel, cured olives, light meals, computers, digital photography, and the feline critters.
We spent equal amounts of time wandering around taking digital photos with his fancy-smantsy digital camera as we did snacking on olives and playing with the cats. I even showed him Strong Bad, my main man and he laughed.
I made the top 15 in the blogdex when we were in Anaheim and he was as excited as I was. In fact, he has better ideas than I do -- Dad was the genius behind the "Live Nude Kitty Cam" post.
My Dad is so tragically hip for a 62 year old man, it isn't even funny. He has informed me of trends and such before they were trends. He told me about ain't it cool news years before anyone knew what it was.
Even more importantly, like most of you, he believes in my writing and encourages me to get my manuscript out there for publication. Unlike *ahem* some of my friends that see my website writing as a waste of time, he recognizes the value of daily practice. He knows things are bad right now, and he knows that I'm trying and on an upswing. Even if I don't really believe it quite yet.
Dad cares about me the way I fear no other man ever will. He makes me take vitamins, he stocks my pantry when he visits, we never fight and best of all he's met every boyfriend of mine and has never been wrong about them.
Despite my infinite love for my Mom, like many girls I fear becoming her. Even more, I fear that I won't be enough like my Dad when I grow up. This last visit reminds me that the things I like most about my self -- the things that define me -- come directly from the genes I got from my Dad. And that's a very good thing indeed.
{eyemoxie is back up. Sorta. After less than an hour installing and uploading the photos I spent 4 hours trying to figure out how to override the Gallery CSS and make my little logo and nav look the same as it does on the rest of the site. Bear with me, I'm trying. Really, I am.}
Posted by Moxie at 11:58 PM | Comments (9)
October 27, 2002
moxie talks baseball
I don't know shit about baseball. In fact, I watched my first ever games of baseball on teevee this weekend. I've been to a live game...once. But none of us were involved in watching the action. We were too busy making our Yankee-loving coworker eat one Dodger dog each inning.
Watching sports requires a few things. The first was easy. I always like to dress appropriately for the occasion so I put on a wife beater, ate potato chips and belched a few times while enjoying the game.
Second is taking sides in the series -- call it a geography bias -- I was rooting for the Angels. Having lived in San Francisco for five years it was a toss up, but I decided to love the one I'm with. Never mind that I have no clue what a "rally monkey" is or what in god's name it has to do with the Angels. Sounds like some random stoney-baloney California thinking if you ask me. Really, if they are the Angels shouldn't the mascot be something angelic?
I know you guys cringe when I talk sports, but as usual, while enjoying the World Series I focused on some of the more subtle points of the game. Things those Giant's biased Fox sportscasters would never mention. These are the truly important things about the game that shouldn't go un shared.
For instance, I noted that the Giants have a penchant for big gaudy earings. I used to have cubic zirconia studs like Benito Santiago wears. They were for a Halloween costume. If not for Barry Bonds' dangling silver cross earring, no one would even have noticed that he was present.
Though not a fan of the baseball butt and build, I noticed that the Angels by and large are a nice looking group of men. Sexy as all get-out. Francisco Rodriguez looks oddly like Tiger Woods and Brendan Donnelly has some pretty interesting taste in eyewear. It's all good in Anaheim.
Poor Molina received a pitch in the balls tonight. Those pitches reach 80-95 mph. He more than any other team member deserved the MVP award. Though 24 year-old rookie pitcher John Lackey was anything but a lackey. And that little guy, David Eckstein bravely admitted that his listed height of 5'8 was exaggerated by about 2 inches and faced momentary trouble scoring a chick. Those were the real heros of the game.
Oh and don't worry. I'm not turning into a sports fan. I still don't know what "RBI" means.
Hey! Who drank all the beer in my fridge?
Posted by Moxie at 9:27 PM | Comments (18)
hanging out in the hood
I walked to the corner store yesterday to pick up some chips to eat while watching the World Series. I've found that Yogurt and Green Onion Kettle Chips go very well with the Angels.
On the corner, standing in front of the store was a hooker. In broad daylight, no less. Now we don't typically see things like that around these parts so I was shocked and dismayed. I go inside to buy my chips when she enters the store and starts hanging all over this guy who was kind of dirty and dressed raggedly.
The owner of the store greeted them by name and and asked Carla if business was good.
Yes.
Halloween.
Costumes.
Parties.
Moxie felt stupid.
But this wasn't the first time. A few years ago I was getting my hair cut and highlighted. The whole process takes several hours. There was a woman walking around with some sort of blue cream smeared on her face, her hair in curlers and slippers on her feet. I was kind of shocked that they'd let the blue stuff "soak in" for so long. And why wasn't she lying down somewhere listening to soft music and enjoying the aromatherapy candles? "I didn't know you guys did facials here," I said as I paid my bill.
"Oh honey, it's Halloween," she laughed. "That's the owner of the salon."
Well color me stupid. This year like many others in the past I'm going dressed as a fool.
Posted by Moxie at 12:25 PM | Comments (6)
more bullshit
I'm working on a very long post for Monday morning.
But in the meanwhile, once again, I need your feedback. Is it weird for me to contact a guy/friend I've known for three years via the phone book? I ran into him lately but he hasn't contacted me via my email addy. My domain was in transfer, it could be an honest mistake.
Lawd knows, I don't want to go all CBG on him. I've received mixed messages about this method of contact...the phone book used to be a perfectly innocent method of getting in touch. You know, let your fingers do the walking?
Am I being a jackass for dialing the digits tomorrow afternoon? No I'm not thinking about dialing drunk ;)
Public service announcement:
Friends don't let friends blog drunk.
Posted by Moxie at 12:36 AM | Comments (26)
October 25, 2002
very important: dawn and moxie show
Dawn and I are about to embark upon an internet radio adventure. Our first radio show will be "broadcast" live on Thursday. Time and details will be announced soon. But you'll have the magic of Doug Dever to thank.
The most important part is that since all of you are far more clever than I am, I'd like your help in naming the show. We need your input!
If you haven't been reading Up Yours, shame on you! Go check it out then come back here and leave your name suggestions in the comments field.
In case I haven't told you lately, you all rawk the mic onstage.
{I'm still in need of 40 NEW links to moxie before the big 24 months blogiversary!! Comments record has been busted in two!}
Posted by Moxie at 9:46 PM | Comments (39)
blog slut
I took Tim Jarrett's sage advice and took my blog out last night and got loaded. Neither one of us is feeling well this afternoon.
Who knew my blog was a tad on the whorish side? You should have seen her rubbing up against strangers, taking sips of men's drinks and licking her lips suggestively. I was a bit ashamed and disapointed. For two years I've tried to be a good mother and teach her to be a moral woman. The men were fawning over her and they ignored me. I should expect such things by now.
She talked about camel toes, told her new friends at the bar that she thought Owen Wilson has a penis-nose and even flashed her boobs -- to several men. I'm sure it was the booze. Or it could have been that line of coke she did off Andy Dick's bare ass. Who can say for certain?
To make matters worse, I came home and found that 18th Century Man had created an account for himself on Moxie and left a prolix post about his own misadventures. I apologize on his behalf. He knowest not what he does.
My blog and I are having a little hair of the dog and hope to be back in rare form by evening. Hope you'll stick around. The fridge is stocked, please help yourselves while I take a nap.
Posted by Moxie at 12:46 PM | Comments (15)
18th century man, here
Hello there young gentle ladies and gentle men, this is 18th century man posting today. I'll try to leavest thou with modern English as best I can manage. Though I live in the present, I am ruled by the past. And totally clueless, as you cretins might say.
I asked a nice young maiden to see a film with me by leaving a calling card at her home. Perhaps she missed my point, indeed! A dear wise man pointed out that my calling card only includes my name and excludes a truly important item such as a telephone number or this E-mail you all speak of. Why do thou all find these interweb messages and bloggeuring so important? I scoff at that, yet I havest my own blog. I am a dichotomy indeed. Truly, I am puzzled by writers who care to write on this world wide internet.
Henceforthto, I called upon this maiden to find that her sister's baby had held up the household and as I am truly an immature idiot at heart, I stomped my feet as hard as I could and threw an unmanly tantrum. I only divulge this to you dear readers because, truly I trust that you will not spread the word.
Why would anyone 2 years old see fit to disrespect my time? How dare they!!!
It's a good thing I see children as purely selfish things for couples to have. I, for one, will never be inconvenienced by such a nuisance!
After expressing that I "had better things to do" I wandered about town and wondered why I am single. Eventually, I went forth to said movie all by my self. While I am the sole company that will entertain my poor disposition, aside from my harp teacher (whom I pay), I felt sorry that I could not be a better 18th century gentleman.
A true gentleman would be one who truly caters to women's unique needs and understand that the young folk come first. Especially when they require folks to bath and feed them.
But the movie was delightful and whimsical. Enchanting, I tell you! I had a lovely time. Certainly my inappropriate pin stripe suit in a casual environment, made me feel as an, um, how do you say, an "ass" missing a hole?
But I paid only a few quid to see "Dude Where's my Car" and in my vain attempt to be modern and "cool" as you say now, I found it a thoroughly marvelous cinematic expression.
And henceforth, I still wonder why no one understands me. Wheneth will I find myself a lovely fair maiden in Los Angeles? Can anyone help a man who lacks simple understanding of others and values his own time above everything else?
{please continue to leave your new links to moxie in the comments of the post just below she says she only needs 45 more before 30, October.}
Posted by Moxie at 12:07 AM | Comments (11)
October 24, 2002
moxie's birthday
On October 30th my blog turns 2 years old. This is both exciting and disconcerting much like my own birthday, which is luckily still a few months away.
So I have just under a week to figure out what to do to celebrate. Here are some things I'm pondering. Feel free to chime in with a yay, nay or better idea.
-> I'd like to have everyone who has linked Moxie on their permanent blogroll (not the rotating kind, or the separate page kind) leave a comment informing me. So that if I haven't already linked them back, I can do so.
-> I'd love to have 50 new links to moxie. I should hit the 500th entry mark sometime between now and the birthday, so 50 sounds both reasonable and significant.
-> I'd like it if the Angels won the world series, but that's more for Matt Welch because he's been so supportive of my efforts, I'd like to give something back.
-> It'd be great if I could find a hundred dollar bill on the sidewalk on my morning walk to get coffee.
-> The record for comments left was 71...sadly left behind on the blogger powered site. I'd love to beat that record.
-> Peace on earth and STD's for all terrorists, domestic and foreign.
-> I'd like to wake up and find that Phoebe has not dug all the empty cat food cans out of the garbage but instead has cleaned her own litter box.
-> I'd like to promise everyone another year, maybe two of better writing.
Did i forget anything?
Posted by Moxie at 9:47 AM | Comments (83)
October 23, 2002
jabs
One of the things that I miss about being almost upper management in an office setting is the opportunity to mentor the younger women who either worked for me or sought my advice.
Sure things are more equal now than they have ever been, despite the continued differences in paychecks going to equally experienced employees who happen to own a penis. Regardless, women still need the support of other women. I had several women mentors. Some good and some not so much.
For instance there was the pantiless Managing Director for a dot com who knew nothing of the interweb. She told me while driving to a client site that, "it's okay to dress sexy." What I didn't tell *her* was that when she sat on a high stool during weekly company meetings we could see her bare nether region and men and women alike were grossed out. It was highly unprofessional, and not just because she wasn't the type of woman the men in the office oogled.
The beaver shot at weekly meetings had a name of course. And it wasn't just a weekly meeting phenomenon. Occasionally someone would come out of a meeting with, we'll call her Janice, and shake their head in disgust. "I got JABBED," they'd say and head out for a nice long smoke while the nausea passed and tried to think happy thoughts.
For the holidays we got her a gift certificate to a day spa and crossed our fingers that she'd use it for a nice trim and wax. We also got her a gift certificate for Victoria's Secret in hopes she would buy some drawlz.
The J.A.B.S.....Janice Allen Beaver Shot. Janice Allen -- not a good mentor.
But there were far more positive female mentors in my short lived consulting career. These women were supportive, gave advice without judging, gave me actual constructive criticism and praised me publicly when I had gone above and beyond the call of my job description.
Because I've had so many wonderful mentors, I try to do the same. Whether it is a younger female writer or a peer I like to be useful if asked. You aren't going to see me dogging others, making thinly veiled insults at the essence of another female writer (well except maybe Ann Coulter!). I refuse to engage in petty cat fights and choose to be encouraging when I can.
I mean, why be a bitch to your own kind? I don't see many men acting this way to other men in the professional world. If chicks want to make as much as men, then maybe in this way -- they should act like them.
Posted by Moxie at 1:31 PM | Comments (39)
can't give it away
If a man has a wife, girlfriend, friend or sister he knows that she waits to buy her expensive cosmetic products until there is a free gift with purchase. For women this comes intuitively and is a simple matter of being practical. If we are going to spend a lot for that certain shade of lipstick we might as well get a kick back.
I worked a trade show yesterday. For seven hours all I had to do was stand around and offer free samples of skin care and makeup to women, whose very existence revolves around beauty products.
"Would you like a free sample of Look 18 Again with triple-hydroxy acid?"
I almost fell down in a drunken stupor when women waved their hands and said, "Oh no....no. No." Snobbery lowers my inhibitions much like booze and can make me shameless.
"It's free!" I assured them.
"No thanks, I already use it," they'd say as they sped up the power walk to 60 MPH.
"Then you'll enjoy this travel sized container," I begged running after them. I needed to distribute every last one before the end of the day. It's not like I was an annoying department store lady trying to douse them with perfume that would have 'em sneezing for two days.
Other women wrinkled their noses at me and studied my face for signs of aging.
"I use this stuff, and I'm actually 55 years old," I said with a straight face.
"I have no more room in my bag," they clamored. So more often than not I'd look in their empty trade show shoulder bags and dropped one in, just to spite them. Better yet, I'd drop it in unbeknownst to her as she walked away.
I really don't take rejection well. I refused to let a single woman pass without shoving a free sample in her hand.
But where was I when women suddenly turned away a free sample of anything cosmetic? I've never said no. Even the guys at the show accepted the trials, thinking that they could pass them to a wife or girlfriend, maybe even a mistress.
Silly boys surely got beat over the head for giving a woman they care about a free sample. Shame on them. One man seemed particularly intrigued for personal reasons,
"where do I put it?" he asked.
"Try your face" but I bit my tongue. It would have been way cooler if I said what I was thinking, "you shove it up your ass stupid, it'll make your rectum young again."
I really am an idiot magnet. But at least the men are smart enough to accept the free gifts.
Posted by Moxie at 9:37 AM | Comments (16)
October 21, 2002
champagne all over again
Some of you who have been around these parts for a while may recall a blind date I had a few months back. A neighbor set me up with another neighbor. He took me for a nice champagne brunch as a first date. Though I told him I wasn't feeling any connection he continued to grow more and more pathetic. Catch up on Champagne Brunch Guy (CBG) here and here.
I was getting in my car on Saturday when I spotted CBG walking down the street. I took my sweet old time starting her up but much to my dismay when I pulled around the corner he was still waiting for the light to change.
Looking at the empty passenger seat I cursed that no one was sitting there. I began to dig through my handbag, frantically searching for something. Damn the light was long.
Suddenly someone knocks on my window. Startled, I jump and look, knowing exactly who I would see standing in the middle of the road. I didn't think he'd face certain death to make a fool of himself. I was wrong. Reluctantly, I rolled the window down and said hi.
me:
not much - long red light, huh?
CBG:
uh, just got done playing baseball {and he swings his arms like he's hitting in the big leagues}
me:
cool, okay the light changed, you're going to get run over
He begins to walk backwards to the curb, trips a few times but continues to shout at me unhindered.
CBG:
I'm going out for uh a couple of cold ones {and he swings his imaginary bat once again}
Driving away I speak too quietly for him to hear...
me:
Good idea, better counteract that healthy exercise stuff with a few beers and getting run over by a car
Someday one of us will move and I'll never have to see him again. Given his habit of standing in the middle of busy streets -- he'll be much safer for it.
Posted by Moxie at 12:46 PM | Comments (19)
October 20, 2002
moxie's los angeles
Lots of people think Los Angeles is ugly.
I don't see eye to eye with those folks. There is amazing stuff to see in every nook and cranny of this city. Since eyemoxie is still down due to my own time constraints, I present you with some lovely things I saw this weekend.
Click on the thumbnails for a pop-up of the larger image.
 |  |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Posted by Moxie at 4:22 PM | Comments (31)
October 18, 2002
wrong
Last December my cell phone rang. This was a point in my post breakup depression when no one called me because they knew I wouldn't bother to answer my calls. Two months into a long and painful journey I rarely changed out of my pajamas and would even walk to the corner store in them if I left the house at all.
This phone call had me curious as I didn't recognize the phone number on the display. Feeling slightly spunky I answered the call,
"Allo oui?"
"Yeah, hey it's me John. Listen, I'm just pulling onto {my street} but I wanted to tell you my partner picked up the digital video camera so we're going ahead and shooting the short all next week."
"Uh huh," I mumbled. Really, I couldn't care any less but the why the f*ck was he on my street?
"So, I'm really enthused, I know it's late but maybe we can meet and have a drink. I want to tell you about the latest re-write on the script. It's looking much better and the joke guy came through with some golden stuff....Claire you are going to love it"
"John," I interrupted
"Yes?"
"I know lots of guys named John, but you aren't one of them. And my name is not Claire. I'm sorry for letting you talk so long but I just wanted to be sure before saying anything."
He laughed and asked why I was confused and I told him, because when you first called you said you were turning onto {the name of my street}. John said, well shit, I live at 5123 {the next street over} and we got to talking. LA is a big place, so it was a cool coincidence.
We got along great and he convinced me to change out of my pajamas, get cleaned up and meet him for a drink at the little neighborhood bar & grill. We met on the corner of my street and his and walked over together.
He wasn't ugly, nor was he interesting enough for me to look at daily for the next 52 weeks or more. John *was* funny, Jewish and intelligent though. And he bought the food and drinks even though I assured him this was nothing more than what it was. Meeting someone who accidentially misdialed and reached his neighbor.
At the end of the night he walked me home and I gave him my email addy. I reminded him I just got out of a three year relationship and wasn't looking for anything. But the next day he began to email me using words and phrases I don't believe in like, "fate," "kismet," and "meant to be."
Tonight I was at the same little neighbor spot with Mavis having dinner when she said, "oh my gawd, that girl in the booth across the way looks just like you!!"
I turned around and saw her. She did kind of look like me and guess who she was with?
Fate, kismet and 'meant to be' clearly meant I fit his predefined type. But fortunately for him, I'm a dime a dozen in LA!
Posted by Moxie at 12:16 AM | Comments (21)
October 17, 2002
taking requests
A very special reader had a request for me. He was missing this photo from the old site. I took it down because I don't think it looks like me anymore. Eighteen months without a haircut or color will do that to a person.
This very special reader also pointed out all the money I'm saving by not paying 45 bucks for a haircut every month or two. A very good thing given all the collections agencies who call me. I'm on a first name basis with most of them.
"Oh Carol, it's you again. Did things work out with your boyfriend? No I still don't have any money to send. Listen, I'm about to head out and spend 150 bucks to get my hair cut and colored. Can I call you at home?"
Although I'm one to enjoy the good life, it's really easy for me to cut back. I don't get my nails done, I don't have cable, cell phone plan has been downgraded to the cheapest one available on the planet. I eat just once a day, I buy cheap wine and I let the folks I've given money to in the past take me out and pay.
You all know how hard it is for me to accept complements. It's equally difficult for me to not to be the generous one. When I was more than flush I'd write checks to friends in need and never asked for it back. I'd buy drinks, dinner and host parties at my house where you didn't need to bring anything.
That's not to say I was foolish with my dough. Six months before I got the pink slip I began to save like mad. Each week 3-5 folks would walk out of the office that was like home to us with their belongings in a box. I cashed out of my employee stock purchase plan, I stopped being a consumer and when it was my turn to go I had enough money to live on for a year.
Of course, it's been 17 months now and I'm living lean. Wishing I had thought to do this or that or especially this.
So while living lean helps, it doesn't put money in my pocket. If anyone out there in moxieland has creative ideas on how to make some money fast please let me know. I'm looking for ways to make money that doesn't involve large corrupt corporations, nudity or illegal substances.
Anyone?
Posted by Moxie at 4:42 PM | Comments (30)
October 16, 2002
dating fear factor
People who don't play games in bars must either be much more mature than my cadre and me or simply missing the creative side of their brain.
It's hard for my friends and I to be around so many interesting people without finding a way for us to embarrass ourselves. Most recently it was with a rousing match of dating fear factor.
This past weekend we spotted a man who resembled either Michael Bolton or Kenny G. We weren't sure which. Maybe both.
The challenge was to approach him and ask if he was in a band. No matter what his answer the correct follow up was, "oh okay you looked familiar, I thought for a moment that maybe we had slept together. DID we sleep together?"
Funny here and now? No. But after a few cold ones there wasn't a dry eye at the table. Mavis was the receiver of that challenge, but she failed to complete it and thus was eliminated from the game.
I have a week to complete my challenge. Had I received the prior, it would have been a piece of cake for me. You see, I'm always the one friends send over to a stranger with odd requests, "did you do a line of coke off andy dick's ass last year at the HBO party?" or "my friend over there used to date you and said you have the smallest weenis she's ever seen. I'd like to corroborate her claim."
If there's an opportunity to make an ass out of myself, I'm game.
My challenge, should I choose to complete it, will place me in the third and final round of dating fear factor. I have to pick one of the mystery phone numbers in my cell phone. You know, some guy gives you his number, you plug it in your phone and never use it. I have to pick one, call it and ask,
"Are you Larry my chiropractor or the Larry I slept with at the Jack in the Box drive through. I was just about to delete your number to make room for some new ones but thought I'd better check first."
Unfortunately, there is only one mystery phone number in my cell phone. And I know *exactly* who it belongs to...a friend of a friend of my X boyfriend's. Just seems too personal a challenge for a silly drinking game.
I'm begining to prefer safer forms of bar room entertainment such as the, "what is his name and what kind of car does he drive" game. Stay tuned to see if there is a limit to my shameless participation in drinking games.
Posted by Moxie at 3:07 PM | Comments (13)
stranger in my own house
Take off your coat! Sit back, kick off your shoes and make yourselves comfortable.
I'm an ungracious host right now as I still feel like a stranger in my own digs. Creeping around late at night, not quite familiar enough to navigate around my surroundings in the darkness. Fingerprints on the walls. Smudges on the light switches. It'll all get straightened out.
I've not yet run around naked when the neighbors might see me. I haven't hung all my photos or put my favorite Croly essays on my night stand. I feel bad for the folks whose maps are all out-dated.
But much like the rest of my life, they'll catch up to me, find me and force feed me soggy over-cooked peas.
My regular email seems to be working, which is good. But I'm seeking an intervention where Blogger is concerned. Not only was accessing my settings files so I may import a year's worth of archives impossible, but after posting the aforementioned I was no longer able to access my account at all. My tech support emails have been directed to the pager of Pyra's primary response man. All that responsibility would fall on the shoulders of the little pink haired gnome perched/glued on Ev's monitor. 500 server errors for four days have made my head spin much like that $2.99 Trader Joe's wine.
My spirits are up, though. Three consecutive nights with Mavis and Klump are bound to do that to even the chronically depressed. Being over my X feels like a brand new, low interest lease on life. I've refinanced. It's good not to be attached. I sung out loud to the RHCP's as I drove my little Porsche over to the grocery store tonight. Marveling over how a 17 year old car can still purr like a kitten, I waited until the last second to shift up into third and Ingrid the car liked it. Once at the Ralph's I even had the courage to smile at the boyz who dared flirt with me as they picked up a 24 pack of toilet paper or a giant sized jar of metamucil.
Men are shameless sometimes.
And clueless.
But hey, I guess we all need TP or metamucil at some point in our lives.
I'm feeling good. And that in itself is rare and spectacular indeed. Enjoy it while it lasts folks.
{if you are one of the gods or goddesses who have me linked on your own site, please adjust the link to http://moxie.nu/blog.php}
Posted by Moxie at 12:22 AM | Comments (17)
October 15, 2002
blogger blows
I've made the DNS changes and within 10 hours the new site should be live.
Just a few administrative things:
1) If you send me an email in the next 24 hours, assume I won't get it.
2) The URL for this blog will change to http://moxie.nu/blog.php
3) Yes, I've set up redirects
4) Eyemoxie will be down for about a week and a half until I have the time to upload the photos and figure out how to use Moveable Type to make myself a nice photo album.
5) Likewise for the forum.
Moveable Type has a nifty little import entries feature. Of course, it requires me to get into my Blogger settings file, which I have been unable to access for at least 4 days. Emails to the Pyra folks have gone unanswered. The real irony of the situation is, I sent an email to the Blogger Pro folks asking if I may still use paypal to upgrade. That was about two months ago. No response. Guess they didn't want my money.
So the new site will be unreadable for Netscape 4x readers for a period. Old entries will not be imported until Blogger gets its act together. And any bug reports should go to onedirgrrl at yahoo dot com.
Thanks for your patience!! Things are going to get much better around here :)
Posted by Moxie at 3:09 PM | Comments (2)
flockhart cast in made for teevee movie
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA | Minimax studios has just announced that Calista Flockhart will play the title role in a new made for television movie entitled, "The Skeleton Monologues" the teleplay is a loose interpretation of the huge hit, the Vagina Monologues. Flockhart will need to lose a whopping 4 lbs in order to best represent the character's true essence as written by author Mike Hunt.
In order to lose this weight Calista is planning on altering her current sprout and unflavored yogurt diet to simply sprouts, no yogurt. Calista told Moxie reporters, "it will be tough to give up the yogurt, but I am totally committed to looking the part, in the interest of artistic integrity." Her beau, Harrison Ford was beaming with pride, "I think this role is something she can breathe new life into, it's something she's always wanted to do."
There was an uproar from the local Los Angeles Skeleton community over the selection and casting of a barely living individual. Moxie interviewed the director of the Skeleton Monologues, "I know she is an actress who can straddle comedy and drama" says director Shawn Maguire. "She’s got this lovely warmth that shines through which is important to the character too. We are confident she can do it."
Posted by Moxie at 1:11 PM | Comments (9)
October 14, 2002
weekends with mavis beacon
No first heart-break-free-weekend in a year is complete without spending time with Mavis Beacon. I've known Mavis for about 7 years and even though she's a beautiful Texas gun toting red neck stuck in an asian body -- she's family to me. A sister, in fact. Her buddy from Houston was visiting this weekend, Klumpacious T.
Klump for short. I've known the Klumpacious T for almost as long as I've known Mavis and we've never lived in the same city. I see him with more regularity than I do my local friends, or my doctor for that matter.
Klump arrived raging into the LA scene on Friday afternoon. A few hours after his arrival we found him lounging on the couch trying to get into the LA groove by watching a little 90210 on cable at Mavis' pad. We made a few jokes about Klump's wavy swept back Beverly Hills hair but life called and we had to make a quick run to the 99 cent store for some necessities. Imagine two girls almost peeing their pants when they saw a stick of 90210 deodorant. Did we buy it? Hell yeah, we did.
Klump enjoyed our gesture and promised to use it regularly. So they head out to Canters while I went home to fiddle with my moveable type template. After a lovely deli nosh they called me from Lola's, a Hollywood martini bar and said, "it's too crowded here, Klumpacious T wants mellow. Where should we go, and are you meeting us?"
I thought long and hard and told them, things are going to get ugly for you two. You need to head right over to Tom Bergin's and have an emergency beer. I'll be there in less than 20 minutes. Being a mox of her word, I walked into the bar only a few minutes late. I circled around the large wooden bar and bumped into someone. He smiled at me, I said "I'm sorry," just as Mavis and Klump waved at me from a booth not too far away.
As my right foot hit the ground in their direction I began to laugh until tears streamed down my face. Who had I bumped into? He looked so familiar. It was Luke Perry, of course. Dylan from 90210 fame. I sat down in the green leather booth and Mavis said, "I bumped into him intentionally too!!" I said, "that wasn't intentional, his back was facing me when his drunk friend's elbow hit my ass."
No matter, bet he gets rubbed against "accidentally" all night long. Meow.
Reason number 2 for leaving the house, rubbing elbows and asses with the rich and famous. Or not-so-rich-and-famous, anymore.
Klump asked, "which one is he?"
I said the, "the handsome one"
He said, "that's no help. Just tell me where he is standing relative to the short guy in the baseball cap wearing the out of style jean jacket."
Mavis said, "that's him. In the out of style jean jacket."
He tried to bum a cigarette off us later. I wonder if there is a Felicity deodorant? Maybe I'd run into Scott Speedman after purchasing it. Y'all keep your eyes open for me -- okay?
Posted by Moxie at 3:14 PM
October 13, 2002
changes
Where have I been? Well, where have you been young men & women?!
I had a full social calendar this weekend, and also squeezed in 3 hours to secure a new webhost, install MoveableType and customize the templates. No tables, all CSS driven and it loads faster than an automatic weapon.
But there's a catch.
Isn't there always with me? I notice lots of you nice folks are using Netscape 4x, and I took a look at the new site while at a friend's barbecue before making the nameserver changes and kissing this current site goodbye. She has a mac with NS 4.75. The site was unreadable. But then again, my current site had some *ahem* interesting red bars on it. No, it's not a bug, it's a feature!! A web designer friend said, "there's no way to fix it, you have to make a choice."
So now I'm in a quandry, fast load for those using a current browser or stick around with this webhost, slower than a 4 hour lecture on the universal and homogenous state. Will you all do me a favor and leave a comment with your opinion and browser info? And if you are a CSS whiz who's willing to help me, pro bono let me know. Everything is installed and designed, it just looks like ass on certain browsers.
Posted by Moxie at 3:15 PM | Comments (2)
October 11, 2002
always listen to your friends
{while my webhost is working through network problems, I will restrain myself from posting photos to speed load time. the move to MT and a better host is coming soon}
Days like today remind me why
1) I make it a habit not to pursue men; and
2) Why being picky is never enough; and
3) Why I’m so glad to be single.
Not too long ago a very intriguing man contacted me. We exchanged links and in jest he encouraged me to go and read about his freedom loving member. He was funny, playful and intelligent. Much to my shock and delight I found he was also handsome.
So we spent some time exchanging flirtatious emails, and this was something very healthy for me. Coming out of a year of hopeless heartache and utter disinterest in men I had grown tired of fielding my mother’s “you aren’t gay are you” interrogations. Nope, someone with a weenis had caught my eye and it was good.
Then, radio silence from him.
One day passes without a response.
Two days
Three days
I receive a one line “I’ve been busy and grown whiskers” email from him. Meanwhile, I see that he has visited my site many times each day. It's not like he's out of town.
Four days
Five days
Six days
Several quick missives I sent during the span went unanswered. So I bust out the big words and ask him why he’s being a jerk and ignoring my emails. You know stop acting like a dickhead – be a man. If you don’t want to talk to me, or you took offense to something I said, tell me or ask me to clarify it. But then again I’m used to dealing with adults.
Seven days
He tells my friend, "All I'm saying is that if there was ever a case study on how boys and
girls are genetically incapable of understanding each other, this was
it."
Why the sudden case study? Why is he ending his sentences with a pronoun? He must be really mad about something. What did I do wrong this time?
All I said was, "Wow I haven’t heard from you in days…don’t be a jerk"
Eloquent? No. I always without fail say the wrong things. But it certainly was not offensive.
All that goes in one eyeball and out his fingers to my friend as, " I don't even know this woman, for God's sake, and she's already yelling at me for not loving her right."
Really?
Does email=LOVE?
Well slap me silly.
Is a disappointed message asking what the heck is going on the equivalent of a heartfelt, “I love you, why don’t you love me??” Gawd, not in my book.
The request for more email DOES equal a desire for more playfulness, more information which would hopefully lead to a better understanding of this person and if we might be some sort of pair.
You all know I am slow in returning reader emails, but I get around to it. The reason I’m slow is because I put family, dear friends and flirtations at the top of my priority list. That’s not to say that I don’t love/email you guys, because I do. And my email has failed a few times tonight alone, thanks to “networking issues” that won’t be resolved for about a week.
One thing I learned today is that when EVERYONE tells you that a man is insane, you should believe them. In typical Moxie fashion, I ignored the warnings of several of my friends and began flirting with this cute guy. But to restate my favorite tongue in cheek expression when it comes to emailing and getting to know someone you are interested in,
“shit or get off the pot”
And if someone doesn’t see the humor (and truth) in that, he’s not even worthy to wipe my ass, let alone capable of "getting" what I am about. And you guys wonder why I don’t have a boyfriend. I think single is the way to go. Less stress -- more room in my bed.
Posted by Moxie at 3:01 PM | Comments (2)
October 10, 2002
best of | comments
One of the best things about having this blog are the multitude of funnier-than-me comments you all leave. Here's a sampling of the "best of moxie comments" for your enjoyment
We talk about boobs...
"you don't need to flash your boobs or butt. for me, nothing's hotter than an exposed patella."
Ryan
"Sheesh, praying to God for big boobs. How ridiculous. Everyone knows that it's the Boob Fairy that brings boobs, and you pay her with a bottle of cheap gin."
ErikZ
and living together...
"If you are willing to give up closet space, I am willing to get a sex change. Do we have a deal?"
Dawn
kissing strangers....
"Why did I stay in last night and watch the History channel? Couldn't someone have told me women were capable of this kind of spontaneity?
I think we should focus on what's important here. Moxie seems to be susceptible to suggestions. Now what can we have her do?
My suggestion is a trans-continental tour to deliver double-doubles to her blog readers"
Jim
bachelorhood...
"I'm the most negligible bachelor."
finishing last...
"And here I thought the definition of a truly nice guy was one who made certain he always 'finished' last.
Now I'm confused."
Nathan
pedestrianism...
"Did I mention that I did extensive study in my youth on the religious theories of Pedestrians?
It seems they believe that on'es sole can be seen in one's shoes.
Jesus flirted with Pedestrianism - if you notice in the New Testament he and his disciples walk everywhere.
The Walking on Water thing did him in, as 2/3's of his congregation tried to duplicate his feet one night while imbibing carafes of wine that were thought to be filled with water."
Jim
camel toes...
"Is Jim going to report back on his "in-depth" study of the camel toe photo? Inquiring minds want to know...."
Bacchus
and logic.
"Isaac, you protest WAAAAAAY too much. I've played this game myself and I see all the signs of you running off and whimpering in a beer.....crying over lost opportunities. You're too young to be so illogical. That shit takes YEARS. (I know this from experience)
Take it from the "Old Gal"....we women can outlast and outplay you boys every single day."
Joanie
{sorry for the slow page load time today. my server is bloated, I mean overloaded. and why are my archives disapearing?? Gah!}
Posted by Moxie at 8:26 PM
moxi dot umlaut
Jeffvn made me this fabulous logo based on my, "Christi - spelled with an "i" as is the case with all female Mensa members....they tend to drop the "e" where applicable to avoid appearing British at all costs." statement.
It was especially cool because he overcame his severe "hey! my girlfriend's name is Christi" complex and really came through for the team.
And I lurve it. I commented that I like my umlauts cooked with cheese, bacon, onions and accented with fresh cracked pepper. A glass of OJ is always the perfect complement for an umlaut. And this logo was prepared exactly the way I like it. Added bonus is that it made me laugh today!
Thanks Jeffy!!!
Posted by Moxie at 4:33 PM
October 9, 2002
christi's bunny stew recipe
Each Wednesday evening, I turn my lights down low, light a few candles and wear my gay neighbor's strap on while watching The Bachelor. It's more intimate that way, as I feign longing looks at these women and pretend I am a man forced to make these very critical decisions. The irony of the situation is, once I have the faux weenis in place, I'm not inclined to want any less than 15 of them around me. When he says, "it's *hard* to make a decision" I'm fairly sure he's talking about his freedom loving member. Or is at least thinking with it.
So many of the ladies on the show are truly lovely but when I gaze into the eyes of Christi -- whom I secretly refer to as Glenn in the comfort of my own home -- I have to remind myself that I'm not watching a poorly executed made for teevee sequel to Fatal Attraction. But I'd bet my life that girl has cooked more than a few bunnies. She's the Martha Stewart of Rabbit based cuisine. She "loves" him after two weeks on a teevee show. The tears and extended claws were a bit much for me. I get queasy that way.
I'm just so glad I'm no longer 23. Back then I'd fall in love with someone who passed me on the freeway. Going in the opposite direction, no less. But where was I? I got distracted for a moment. Ah yes Christi - spelled with an "i" as is the case with all female Mensa members.
Perhaps Christi (AKA crying girl), comes from a poor family and her parents couldn't afford to buy a vowel. But on the other hand, maybe all members of the elite Idaho chapter of Mensa tend to drop the "e" where applicable to avoid appearing British at all costs. And you get the added benefit of making a great big circle over the "i" which is fun for the whole family.
The truth is, that girl scares me. She gives me the chills in a way that a murder, a scary movie or unplucked eyebrows do.
After hoping for a few punches to be thrown between two girls up in Napa, I was bored by the Lake Powell date as there was not even the hint of a fight in the making. To amuse myself I began to pick lint from between my toes when next thing you know, two girls found their dignity and walked out during the rose ceremony. Even though I thought Anindita was a raging hormonal biatch, I respected her immensely for walking out rather than hanging around and risk suffering from cat scratch disease. And Frances was always too lovely and classy to be there from the get go. You GO girl!!!
All and all, I really liked his choices. For a 28 year old he did okay. With the obvious exception. You can all quote me when Christi proves herself unstable and removes the winner's fingernails and eyelashes with her teeth. I promise I won't say I told you so.
Posted by Moxie at 10:17 PM
tony says....
Forget simon says, it's all about Tony.
Mr. Pierce told me I couldn't post again until I had kissed a stranger.
Consider it done.
I played bad girl tonight. Ann helped me find a target. And my oh my was it fun!
The press club event tonight blew my mind. Emmanuelle and crew really know how to throw a party.
I'm way too tired to type the story just now, but let's just say I'm in much better spirits. I don't mean to be mysterious, but my life as always was bizarro. Tonight for the best.
Posted by Moxie at 3:59 AM
October 8, 2002
good girls finish last
Tony told me I’m a tease on the phone the other night.
I agreed with him of course.
He said, “you could write several times a day but you choose not to.”
And as always he’s right. I could, and I don’t. I want to tease you. I want you to want me. I like that some folks want more. And I know you like it.
Tony knowing this doesn’t surprise me, he does work for the xbi and all. He knows what I’m going to think before I think it. He knows how I feel before I do. Tony is either an intuitive government guy who can read women like books or is just a psychic who should have his own teevee show.
Maybe both.
He also told me, “laughing boy is going to break your heart”
I said, “You are probably right. Maybe he already has. But that’s still a self-serving statement.”
Tony -- LA's most desirable bachelor said, “yeah well I don’t have a hot chick for most Monday nights, so if you end up free let me know.”
It must be nice to be uber popular like Tony. {I like umlauts with fresh cracked pepper, but blogger doesn't.}
I’m really bad with guys. I say the wrong things. I haven’t slept with everyone in the world. I’m inexperienced. I’m idealistic. I’m too honest, I stay home on the weekends so they have nothing to worry about. I don’t cheat on my boyfriends. I don’t post pictures of me flashing my boobs and belly button. If I were a bad girl I’d have men begging at my feet. For all the wrong reasons.
If I talked about sexual specifics I’d be infinitely more popular. I’m not that girl. I don't want to be, publically.
Yes, good girls finish last.
Posted by Moxie at 3:34 AM
October 6, 2002
that's SO pedestrian (a moxie re-run)
So vivid are my memories, it could have been last week that I sat around the big oak table, a 10th grader taking a secular bible study class at my private prep school. Our Professor introduced himself, and immediately urged us not to doodle and mark up our bibles the way we did our other textbooks. We then proceeded to go around the table and tell the group what, if any religion we were raised with so that we may anticipate the varied viewpoints we would encounter throughout the semester;
"I'm Episcopalian"
"Mormon, my Dad's youngest wife is 14"
"My mother is Jewish and my Dad is a Buddhist"
"Lutheran, but we don't practice it."
"Catholic, my Mother almost became a nun but she got pregnant with me and was kicked out of the convent."
And then it was Julie's turn.
"I'm a Pedestrian, and my parents are very religious."
My Professor chuckled and said, "Presbyterian."
"No," Julie confirmed adamantly, "Pedestrian."
Our Professor was a smart man and let it go. But I could not. I was next.
"Well, until just a moment ago I was a non practicing catholic, but this Pedestrian thing sounds like an organized religion I can really get behind," I bit my lip to keep from laughing. "Julie, do you go to the First United Church of Christ the Pedestrian? Or the Reformed Church of Latter-day Pedestrians?"
She didn't think it was either. I should hope not.
After class I was nicknamed The Minister. I was also elected Pastor of the Last Reformed Orthodox Church of Seventh Avenue Pedestrians. I was so proud.
Julie, I found out later that day was originally from Milwaukee, which my warped teenage mind found ironic and amusing. "Me walkie, you walkie, we all walkie to the Pedestrian Church of Milwaukee!"
At lunch, mine was the most crowded table, as I feigned a drawl, like a southern preacher and evangelized to the table, breaking up in fits of laughter,
"Most people join the church in their first year of life. It's not a choice for us -- it's human instinct. Most people on earth belong to our congregation and don't even know it. Ours is a simple faith, keep putting one foot in front of the other. Move forward, and you are doing His will. Even non-virgins or homosexuals can easily become Pedestrians. We'll take just about anybody, your poor, your sick, your weary, your weak, your smokers, your unemployed, welfare mothers. For they are most often the best Pedestrians. You don't even need to speak English, you only need to be willing to stand on your own two feet, and march to the beat of your own drummer."
My friend Val made a 5 foot tall statue of feet in his Sculpture class, and donated it to my Parish. I told him that it would make a beautiful centerpiece for the church altar and that his kindness and generosity would be repaid by the eternal love of our Divine Savior, Walker.
Another friend, Kerry made Church bulletins and recruitment flyers in her computer class. She got an A for creativity. I handed them out at lunchtime. Even upperclassmen flocked to grab them each week. One issue I, The Minister declared Rockports, the walking shoe, as sacred uniform for all devote Pedestrians. Once considered "un cool," they began to appear all over school. Sometimes, after class I found a makeshift shrine outside my locker, consisting of a few pairs of worn Rockports, along with a lit devotional candle, and a picture of the Pope wearing Nikes under his robe.
In another church bulletin I proclaimed that being a Pedestrian is far better than sitting, standing and kneeling at conventional churches, mosques or synagogues. It was a great way to burn calories and improve cardiovascular fitness. Being a Pedestrian was great for the spirit and the body. Busy people with demanding extra curricular activities would most appreciate how easy it is to make time for working out in the Pedestrian Chapels. The Pedestrian God really was omnipresent, he and his place of worship was everywhere.
Some amused classmates eventually flocked to my confessional (lunch table) expressing feelings of shame and guilt. It was too cold to walk to school, they had to take the bus or subway. "Christ was always a Pedestrian, yes…but we live in modern times -- how did you get to and from the subway?" I probed while supressing a laugh. "Uh, I walked of course. Oh thank you. I feel so much better," an enlightened classmate gushed, "maybe I can make up for my sins at gym class today?" Yes, of course she could. I absolved her of her sins and gave her a penance of 3 laps around the sophomore class lounge.
Sometime much later that semester, it must have been Spring, Julie arrived at the big oak table with tears welling in her eyes. As her Pastor and a dedicated servant of my religious vocation, I felt obligated to counsel her, and asked if she was OK.
"I asked my Mother about being a Pedestrian…" and the tears started flowing, "and she said we're Presbyterians."
I put my hand on her shoulder and told her it was OK, that we understood. But she continued, "so I told her I wanted to convert, to become a Pedestrian, and she made me walk to school today."
At first, I thought of playing along. My parish was always open to converts, in fact the group of who walked daily around the track several times to hear my after lunch sermon had grown to monumental proportions. And I was their figurehead. I could feel an inevitable mudslide approaching. It wouldn't be fun anymore if Julie joined us. She really believed this nonsense.
"Julie," I said as kindly as possible, "being a Pedestrian means you can, well…you know you can be a follower. Or a leader. You can move slowly, or quickly. You can walk, or you can run. For some the Church of Christ the Pedestrian is simply exercise, and not a religion. For others it's clearly both. Why don't you go out for a walk during your free period. But remember the 1st commandment, 'Thou shalt halt for the red hand, and walk only after seeing the little man.' "
And she did.
Posted by Moxie at 11:27 PM
October 5, 2002
jumping for joy
When I was a child and Aunt Helen and Uncle Pete would visit, I was forced to relinquish my bedroom to them. I was exiled to the dingy east wing guest room where I had a pull out couch, a black and white teevee and was forced to use a bathroom that was not attached to my room.
Being ever the precocious child, I asked why Aunt Helen and hubby couldn’t sleep in the so called “guest bedroom” -- it was clear to me that they were the guests, not me.
“Oh Moxie, Uncle Pete is ummm, a large man, he and Aunt Helen wouldn’t be comfortable on the pull out couch”
Indeed.
Aunt Helen usually brought her kids as well a few of my similarly aged Cleveland cousins along on the visits and we would stay up all night telling tall tales of wicked classmates and teachers. Most importantly, we’d speculate on the strange sounds coming from my bedroom at night.
During one particular night I remember being about 6 and lying in the hallway in our pajamas, with my 3 year old cousin Stephan whom after seeing an OB commercial we had just taught to say “tampon” instead of yes or no and my psychic cousin Stacy who was 7.
Our curious ears pressed to the door, we wondered why they had locked it, what could be so secret or private?
“What are they doing in there?” Stacy asked. Clearly her psychic powers hadn’t developed just yet, or maybe she only has ESP when it comes to death and such.
We could clearly hear things like, “oh yeah, baby!!!” and the sound of my sweet little white eyelet covered bed making strange creaking noises.
“Sounds the way it did when we were all jumping on your bed earlier,” Stacy whispered, so that they didn’t know we were outside the door.
In a moment of clarity, I had an epiphany and told them calmly, “they are jumping for joy.”
The next morning we were all gathering in the kitchen for a huge pancake breakfast. Stacy and I walked up to Aunt Helen and Uncle Pete and said,
“We heard you jumping for joy last night. You guys are really happy aren’t you?”
“Tampon?!” Stephan chimed in.
“how did you know we were jumping for joy?” They responded with a chuckle.
“We heard everything,” I exclaimed.
A few weeks later my Mum sat me down and explained both what “jumping for joy” and tampon really meant. I was shocked and dismayed. I liked it all so much better before. But I never again wondered why my Mum insisted on washing my sheets several times after they left.
After that little chat I made a concerted effort to assist our male and female siamese cats breed, "jump for joy!! now kiss" I'd tell them.
Posted by Moxie at 1:15 AM
October 3, 2002
bizarro moxie | crushed
LB = Laughing Boy
Moxie = Me, dummy!
LB:
Thanks for the link, Moxie.
Apparently you're quite the sexy and alluring piece of work yourself,
but sigh: waay out there in L.A.
Moxie:
You’re welcome and that figures. Heh, and no one believes that I can't get a date.
LB:
I hear ya! A night out with a monkey would be the best date
I've had in a long time. But let us think on this.
Moxie:
I don’t want to think, I might hurt myself.
LB:
It occurs to me that the principal attractions of dating are 1)
companionship b) alcohol iii) dancing IV) laughter E) nudity & I\II I)
pancakes. As such I recommend that we seek out places were these
enumerated benefits exist with some constancy. For example, my house.
Alternately, I expect there is an IHOP adjacent to a titty bar somewhere in this country. We could find this mecca of satisfaction, and there enjoy a dating-like experience without having to sacrifice any closet space.
Moxie:
I think if you throw in a dog your IHOP/titty bar dating simulation just might work.
LB:
Why a dog?
Moxie:
Companionship and the one item I think was missing from your list: the warm body who hogs the bed at night.
While it can really hurt to give up closet space, I have four large ones here in my townhouse and would gladly give up even an entire closet for a nice guy.
Oh hell your idea is easier. There's a titty bar and a pancake place within walking distance from my house.
LB:
Or you might try wearing shorts like these. I doubt you make it *to* (never mind through...) the grocery store w/out having to beat them back with a hockey stick. This girl is from Israel and even the Palestinian boys are asking her out ;-)
Moxie:
I have a pair of those shorts. Several in fact.
Still no dates.
Maybe I need the camel toe, too.
LB:
If you post that camel toe pic on your site, I hereby solemnly swear that I will publish "moxie is a woman who has bigger balls than I do" on my
site.
Moxie:
Are my balls bigger than yours??
LB:
Are my boobs bigger than yours?
Moxie:
Probably. Hey, do you mind if I write about our email exchange today? I get a lot of flack from the male readers, they don't believe that a sane man would turn me away and you have. This is proof for my cause.
LB:
I think you've just said that I've turned you away/down? Hey now, what crack are you smoking? I *believe* you that you are having trouble getting a date, or finding the right date to go get etc, but I'm not turning you down. Just as long as that's clear. Ahem.
.
Moxie:
Sure, you turned me away for being too far away ;) Or maybe it's a Harvard/Cornell rivalry?
LB:
It's just you're so far away my arms hurt from all the reaching.
I suggested that maybe all he needs to do is work out a little more. Why are all the interesting, intelligent and handsome single men on the wrong coast??
Posted by Moxie at 9:39 PM
moxie ecosystem update:
{because I'm too tired tonight from sending out pitch letters to magazines, teevee shows and other publications that should hire me}
linked on: MSNBC's weblog central, best of blogs.
exhausted by: my email which is not working reliably. If you sent an email that I didn't respond to, it is because I'm only now receiving emails from last week. Dang worthless webhost.
hair: unwashed (2 days) and uncut (1 year, 3 months)
admiring: the very sexy and alluring laughing boy.
UPDATE: For those of you who don't believe I have troubles with men, Laughing Boy has very kindly turned me down. *sobs*
feeling: thin and hungry
wishing for: a job and someone to loan me this CD.
feeling grateful for: cool friends like dawn, RWT, tony, and last but not least the curmudgeonly yet irresistible mensch marc.
loving: all the cool folks who comment and make ME laugh everyday. Yay to all of you!!!!
frightened by: mean people
working on: completing my book
wondering: where hard work, talent and dedication wins out over "just knowing someone important"
loathing: the eternally dirty litterbox
appreciating: my hometown, los angeles. I love Lost Angeles.
Posted by Moxie at 1:23 AM
October 2, 2002
i see dead people
I don’t often talk about religion because I’m an atheist, but Mother Teresa’s miracle has been Vatican approved. A 30 year-old Indian woman had a tumor in her stomach which protruded and made her appear seven months pregnant. She prayed to Mother Teresa and it disappeared overnight.
Rather than rehash the news, I’d much rather share why I am an atheist since it’s the one thing that won’t be duplicated all around Blogistan ad nauseum. Being blood related to a large extended family that regularly reports miracles, instead of being moved by the spirit, I’m somewhat convinced that religion has driven my family insane. I've said it before and I'll say it again -- if you lived my life, you'd be writing a book too.
Aunt Robin’s children have seen Virgin Mary statues at church smile at them. I wonder if the virgin waved and gave the “high” sign, too. Her one son saw my grandmother’s ghost in front of him just before totaling the family car. Did I mention that he also caused structural damage to the house he hit?
Aunt Helen who’s never even had a drink in her life habitually talks to angels standing next to her at the bank and has dreams about blue eyed babies who’ve yet to be born. When they're born with blue eyes as she predicted, it was god telling her the baby was going to arrive safely, even if the newborn baby was a kitten or puppy. God's good to her that way. She’s also on fabulous terms with the FBI, having spotted terrorist activity several times while driving in Cleveland and praying to god for her safety and well-being. Apparently the terrorists were plotting to blow up a KFC drive through, a little bridge that goes nowhere and her own house. Uncle Ben, who *does* drink regularly has had three near death experiences and claims to know the fate of every living blood relative (but isn’t telling) and is now on a first name basis with god. I didn’t even know god had a last name.
I would have thought god would be like Cher, Prince or Madonna. A man or woman who only needs one name. My Uncle isn't revealing god's last name either.
Aunt Carissa has lit a match from across the room while praying. My cousin knew at age 7 her mother was going to die suddenly an hour before it happened and has dreams that come true within 48 hours “without fail.” If I had a dollar for every time I received a phone call from her warning that I was going to die soon I’d be very rich indeed. Hopefully you all realize that I’ve averted hundreds of disasters by ignoring their advice and going about my business. I am alive today and typing this entry not from a different dimension, but from Los Angeles. Okay, maybe LA is a different dimension. But I’m alive. Sort of.
One of the first few pictures I took of my new place (with a clean lens) showed a bunch of white dots. Aunt Carissa told me they were spirits. I was actually showing her the photo to get her opinion on which of the area rugs looked better before I ordered the larger, non returnable version. Apparently, the large white dot to the left is my Great Grandmother Moxie. How could I not have recognized her?!
The common denominator? Yes well, it’s most likely a genetically inherited insanity gene, but my wacko family attributes their everyday miracles to god. This isn't a post condemning religion, simply one stating why it's not for me. For 16 years of my life I prayed that I would grow bigger boobs, that I would make tons of money by writing things that would make people laugh and that I’d marry a nice guy before I hit thirty. Maybe god just doesn’t like me as much as he likes my family. Or maybe there isn’t a god, the world really was created via the big bang, and my family is crazy. I’m betting on the tri-fecta.
Posted by Moxie at 1:26 AM
