Pye in the Face

Appetizer: Using only one word, how does grocery shopping make you feel?
Poor. I can’t remember the last time I got out of there having spent less than $200. Then you get home, you start unpacking your loot and you think - 200 bucks for hummus and fishnet stockings? And then there’s the old “don’t shop hungry” adage. It’s so true. Your carefully crafted shopping list contains rice, vegetables and skinless chicken breasts - and you end up eating Ding Dongs and Bagel Bites for the next few weeks. Or sitting naked cross-legged on the kitchen floor at 3am rubbing chocolate syrup on your chest and crying.

Soup: What is your favorite part about the season of Autumn?
It’s my very favorite season, so to pick one facet is difficult. I love the cool weather and the leaf peeping. Halloween costume discounts are always a good score, as is bobbing for apples in a barrel of mentholated schnapps and using chocolate rice crispie balls instead of apples. I think I need to go shopping. Football starts up again and people everywhere breathe a sigh of relief that they no longer have to worry about how they look in a bikini. Maybe that’s just me. The ridiculous summer movie CGI-fest comes to a close, the Oscar race begins and all the DVD-quality screeners released to the Academy end up online for me to download. Happy, nerdy, days are here again.

Salad: Have you ever had any bad experiences online?
Someone started posting ridiculous things on this blog a couple of years ago. It was scary in the sense that she must have literally sat and watched the site all day. As soon as I’d remove one of her comments, another one would pop back up. They were all to the tune of “Dave is on Match.com” and “I wonder if all Dave’s readers know he does online dating”, etc. I have to assume it was a woman scorned - but when I was doing the online thing I was always very nice - even when it became apparent at the door of the Starbucks that the photo I’d been sent was from 9 years, 27 pounds and a sex change ago. I guess my mother raised me right. I finally answered her with a comment of my own, where I explained that my family read the blog and I had no idea what I’d done to attract her scorn and to please stop. And she did. I threw around the words “crazy” and “insane” a few times in the aforementioned note, and I think I must have hit a nerve. That is the risk you run when you put yourself out there. We don’t even need to get into the time I was nearly lynched in the North End.

Main Course: Name three things that make you happy daily.
For the first time in my life I feel like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, professionally. I fell into it, the flexibility has allowed me to help handle some major family issues and I don’t scramble to pay bills anymore. Second would be music. I love it, it fascinates me, there’s always great new material in addition to my old favorites. Happiness is definitely racing along a backroad blaring Pixies in the Charger. And I recently discovered that my ipod adapter also plugs into the stereo on our boat. That was a very special day. Third I’d say… the medication.

Dessert: What one household cleansing or organizing item would you not want to be without?
This question is rather timely, as my mother and I are currently in a battle of wills over how the lakehouse should be cleaned. She wipes things down, even in the kitchen or the bathroom, with water. When she does use a cleaner, it’s this orange stuff that leaves a greasy, soapy residue. I am a disciple of alcohol-based cleaning products. Give me a bottle of Glass Plus, and I can make magic happen in a Civil War hospital tent. She refuses to get any so I’ve added it to my own shopping list. I love my Mother dearly, but she’s about 2 days away from being given the title “Friend of the Fruitfly”. Forget Mendel - Bonnie could breed fruitflies in the airlock of a space shuttle.

Happiness for me today is my first listen of the new Queens of the Stone Age record a week before it’s released. Lovely, rocking stuff. I also snagged the upcoming Beastie Boys instrument album, The Mix Up. I wish they had vocals, and also weren’t flaming embarrassing bleeding-hearts, but it is a nice platter to play in the background while you work.

Catch me tomorrow when I’m listening to them both in the front seat of the soon-to-be-christened HMS PYE, and am most certainly not wearing trousers.

In the middle of all this “I’m so busy… Waaah - I’m moving internationally, change my drawers” bullshit, I’ve gotten a little ahead of myself. I get daily IMs and emails asking me why I have the fucking audacity to stop writing regularly. So, in spite of the imminent re-imagining of PITF, which is truthfully well underway and even paid for - I will continue to write. I am honored that any frigger still cares.

I am truly in the belly of the beast this eve. Less than 100 miles away lies the Capital city of Canada, my place of birth in 1973, whose Senators hockey team is in the running for the first Canadian Stanley Cup since 1993 - That’s 14 frigging years for anyone keeping score. For comparative purposes, that’s like the USA not being the champion of inventing chewing tobacco for almost 15 years straight. Brutal, I know.

The end of my Grandmother’s street (I am living alone at her house with Boss until it is sold) has “Bring it home to Canada, Sens!” written in children’s street chalk at the intersection. At least 5 out of every cars I pass have a little Sens flag waving out the window. Every time my beloved Uncle John and I meet for a beer, there are pubs full of Senator shirt clad fans everywhere. It’s a typically quiet and reserved Canadian event of incredible importance.

Anaheim is now ahead in the series 3-1 as of 5 minutes ago, and the series is returning Wednesday to California - which isn’t great for the odds. Home ice and one more win and it’s over. But I’ll be watching, and I pray for continued serendipity relating to my move home. Go Sens, and go my bid on a Charger tomorrow in the auction.