|Jane Doe's Blog Has Moved!|
Well, I am gonna try to make a go of blogger.com. Go to http://janedoesblog.blogspot.com or click at the right.
Yeah, we were on. They had Robert Novak instead of Tucker Carlson. Not only does he not inspire lust, he stood up my old boss.
My co-workers and I are set to be in the audience for CNN's "Crossfire" tomorrow, Friday the 30th at 4:30 PM EDT. Check your local listings. If I am with them, I will be wearing polka dots, if you don't see me, it means I am probably busting my ass on a newsfeed, when I would rather be lusting after Tucker Carlson. Don't know whether Tucker was listening to Mix 107 when I referred to him as "babalicious."
I just looked at blogger.com -- was considering switching to that until I realized it didn't look as cool as this one, even if there are more links and it would be a cooler address. So so much for that.
Right now I am experiencing the usual headache, low-grade fever and muscle and joint pain, so that rules out going out for a drink. I have an incredible craving for sugar, preferably a tube of Cakemate frosting or a Starbucks Toffee Nut Latte. However, I don't want to go out or spend money, so I went to see whether there was any leftover Easter candy. Miracuously I found a can of Pilsbury Creamy Supreme Chocolate Fudge frosting, which I was saving to make fudge. It should do the trick till breakast time.
WHY I NEVER GOT MARRIED
Some friends asked my parents once, "Janey is such a beautiful woman. How come she never got married?" Mom's answer: "She has a series of boyfriends whom she usually dumps. Occasionally one of them dumps her." This is only partially true. The first one turned out to be gay -- from there it was downhill. Some of them marry other women. That hurts. One tried to fix me up with another woman. That hurt almost as much.
At this point, Thunder and Lightning are the closest my parents have to grandchildren, but my last pets were fish, so at least we're moving up the food chain.
I have added a new pig to my collection. His name is "Thunder." My friend, Dallas, suggested the name, to go along with "Lightning." I thought this was ridiculous, at first, but then people name chihuahuas "Killer" and St. Bernard's "Tiny." Also, he's more vocal than Lightning (or was, at first) and one of my co-workers says he looks like a little thundercloud. He also drinks and pees a lot, like a little thundercloud. My mom's response on finding the new addition to the family was "Is Thunder a real pig or a toy?" How pathetic can you get? Your overweight, unmarried, childless daughter is announcing the acquisition of a new stuffed animal? My father's question was "does your condo smell like a barn?"
Thunder HAS HAD THEM REMOVED. Male readers will know what I am talking about. I am told this will make him more user-friendly and he will live longer. When I first brought him home, he was so quiet I thought they had snipped his vocal chords, too. Unfortunately, now he has issues. He is madly in love with Lightning, also a male. Lightning will occasionally try to mount him. It figures. The men in my life have issues, so I got pets to make up for it. Now I have pigs with issues. I guess I should be more tolerant and just accept this as their lifestyle choice.
Unfortunately, I have pig on the brain. I saw a black cat on the sidewalk and said "hey, piglet," and it ran away. That's probably REALLY gonna bring bad luck. The great thing about Thunder and Lightning is I can say "you guys are pigs" and it's true. Of course, I wonder what the neighbors think when they hear me yell "pig." At one point, Lightning responded to that more than he did to his own name.
My friend, Kevin McCall,who is very intelligent and a nice guy to boot, says he reads my blog. That must make about six people. Here are two of his haikus about his ex-girlfriend's dawgs:
Terror grips the hound!
Cunnilingus of the ear
The lab's strange fetish
This is Kevin's take on cockatiels. At one point I think he had about five of them:
"Think of Dustin Hoffman in 'Rain Man,'and you have a pretty fair picture
of a cockatiel's view of the universe/philosophy of life. Also consider
1. If someone wants you to do something (i.e. come out of your cage, go
into your cage, eat something from their hand, perch on a finger,
play with a new toy, etc.), it must not be in your best interest,
and should (no, MUST) be avoided at all cost!
2. If it can be chewed or shredded, it must be.
3. No water dish is complete if there isn't shit in it.
4. Seeds were made to be spat on the floor.
5. Feathers (your's or your cagemates') were made to be pulled, chewed
up, and/or plucked; you'll certainly look much more stylish and well
groomed without those unsightly feathers!
6. If your cagemate and you are taken out of visual contact with each
other, you are both obviously in GRAVE danger, and must siganl back
and forth by shrieking WHEAT! ... WHEAT! ...' continuously until
the situation is rectified.
They do make a fair amount of noise, but don't really
talk (supposedly they can but I've never been able to get mine to say
anything except a garbled "pretty bird" from one, in response to me
saying it; they do sing repetitive patterns over and over though). As
to repetitive behavior, it is pretty much their whole deal. They have
this one thing which I call "The Sailors' Hornpipe", where they take three steps
to one side and then three steps to the other, over and over and over
again (this may be seen in an episode of 'Lost in Space,' where Will,
Dr. Smith, and The Robot are out birdwatching/looking for new species
of birds on the planet they're on, and stock footage of a cockatiel
pacing back and forth on a branch is shown as Dr. Smith announces
this 'new species' will henceforth be called 'The Dr. Smith Yellow
Bellied Sap Sucker.'"
Today someone evidently jumped, fell off, or was pushed off the Taft Bridge. Such a beautiful, sunny day. That's only the second time such a thing has happened since I moved into this neighborhood more than six years ago. I remember that day, it was a beautiful day, too.
I dated a guy who was afraid to walk across the Taft Bridge, and hearing someone had jumped off it didn't build up his confidence any. Somehow, I thought that was wussy, even though we all have our fears. Not sensitive, as in "in touch with his feminine side," just wussy.
Today is Mother's Day. My mother lives in Florida. Her mother is 95 years old and lives with her other daughter, my Aunt Irene, in Pennsylvania. She has one other child -- my Uncle Joe. She tells me years ago gypsies told her she would live a long time and have three children. I guess that was when she was much younger and before any of her children were born, otherwise it would be a no-brainer.
Today is Arlington County Neighborhood Day. Someone was just stabbed a couple hours ago about 100 feet from the Christian radio station where I work. Arlington County police tell me they have the suspect in custody -- no word as to whether the victim is male or female, living or dead. I've been running a low-grade fever with all that good stuff, so that will be all for today.
There is an article on nude modeling on page C-5 of today's "Washington Post." I admit to having modeled in the nude in the past. In some of the pictures my face is actually recognizable.
Tonight I needed dental floss, so I went to CVS. Naturally none of the aisles are marked "dental floss" or "toothpaste" or anything that simple. It took a while to realize I needed the "oral hygiene" aisle. That is way too complicated. It is almost as bad as "feminine hygiene" and "family planning," which make me blush even more than "laxatives." Why are "baby needs" so close to the "family planning" and "feminine hygiene" sections?" Is it in case one fails?
I presented the clerk with my CVS Extra Care card, which presents another dilemna. Now people will know Jane Hautanen bought a roll of dental floss at 7:49 PM at CVS on Connecticut Avenue and paid two dollars cash for it. That is an invasion of my privacy. Of course if it bothered me that much, I could just pay cash and forget about the savings.
Today is Cinco de Mayo, pretty nasty and cold for a May holiday. A good day for nachos and margaritas or nachos and beer or, as one of my co-workers suggests, margaritas and beer.
Amy Paige of Mix 107 ( www.mix1073fm.com ) has bookmarked this page. That makes at least five people who are reading this! Lightning got to meet Amy and Larry London -- they suggested I name him "Willard" like the guy in the movie. Actually I wouldn't mind having a pet rat, but I don't for social reasons -- I want people to still visit me. In high school I had mice, and my girfriend Lore wouldn't come into my room. In college I lived with some nosy girls, so I got a pet snake to keep them out of my stuff. It worked. It was a 12-inch garter snake, but within a week it had grown into a 7-foot boa constrictor and a 30-foot anaconda. Unfortunately it kept the cleaning lady out, too.
My mom sent this e-mail the other day: "Coming home from Gecko's at noon there was a man touting a leather furniture store wearing a cow costume complete with udders . I hope they paid him well!" In a practical law class in high school, our teacher suggested punishing a shoplifter in a record store by making him stand outside wearing a big record costume. One of the kids suggested making him listen to the record he stole over and over again until he was sick of hearing it.
Well, I decided to make my blog more reader-friendly, starting with the most recent entries first. It's a start.
Today is May Day. One of my coworkers wore a pair of red pants to work. I would have worn a red dress, but I wore one the other day, and it would have put my weekly wardrobe out of sync. I got an e-mail from my mother saying Dad knew I wouldn't forget the wretched of the earth. One of my great-grandfathers was a Communist. Another great-grandfather (I had a total of four) spoke Russian, probably because it was in his best interest, not out of love for the Russian language or culture. I used to be embarrassed about having Communist relatives, but now it's kind of retro-cool. One night my girlfriend Catherine and another woman and I walked down the street singing the International Communist hymn and the Union Label song, and that was before we had had that much to drink.
Failed Date: a Haiku
More than just quite nice
More than just quite cute, just not
Quite equal to you
I have a guinea pig. His name is Lightning. The people who gave him to me named him that because of the white streak on his head, which kind of looks like a lightning bolt. Actually, it kind of looks like a blob, too, but who wants to go through life being called "blob." Even my father never called me that.
Some people think Lightning is a cat, others think he's a rabbit or a hamster. One woman thought he was a human baby. A guinea pig with an identity crisis. I got some pictures taken to give to my parents and his former owner. The lady at Ritz Cameras said "your bunny is adorable." I kept my mouth shut. I know a guy who gets off on just about every picture he sees of me. One of my friends suggested I put on a really hot outfit and get my picture taken at a sheep farm.
Howard Dicus at WTOP did a feature on sheep. One of my friends, who produces a cooking show, says the sheep is a very useful animal -- it provides us with food, clothing, and sex. Useful little animal it is. I realize going from failed dates to sheep is pretty sick...
The greatest thing I ever did in my life was to help catch a sniper. Last October I was producing the "Charlie Warren Show" on WMAL, when cops were closing in on the snipers.CNN gave the license number of their car, so I wrote it down in longhand for Charlie to read on the air. A few hours later, the cops caught them. We didn't think much about it until Whitney Donahue, the truck driver who turned them in, said on "Good Morning America" that he got the numbers listening to us.
Tonight I went to the White House Correspondents' Dinner at the Hinckley Hilton. Kind of like a prom, but with fewer hangups. I'm told Bo Derek was there. Last year the Osbournes were the big thing. People looked at me funny when I asked whether Ozzy was gonna bite the head off anything. I must be getting old -- I was more interested in the food and the bar than in the guys there. At my first correspondents' dinner, I tried to chat up a Secret Service guy. How embarrassing. At least he was hot.
Today is Easter Sunday. Went to 7 AM mass at St. Matthew's Cathedral. Saw a guy sniffing his pits. And people wonder why I don't go to church more. I didn't shake hands with him.
My Aunt Ellen, who's Jewish, has three kids, all of whom married gentiles. She spent the day at her youngest daughter's house, where they had ribs, baked beans, and other Passover favorites.
The first of the month seems a good time to start, so here I go. I have no idea how to write a blog, but hey. I was born at Sibley Hospital in Washington. My father wanted my birth certificate to read "Washington, DC," even though he and my mom were living in Virginia. People say "that's a good hospital." As if I had a choice.
We are involved in an unjust war. It's a beautiful day in Washington. Traffic is moving smoothly along Wisconsin Avenue. It's not such a beautiful day in Baghdad.
When I was growing up, DC had the country's highest mortality rate. I figured if I survived infancy, that was something. Later I learned children born in the District but not living there were not included in these statistics.
Today I saw a penny on a cement block outside my building. It was surrounded by a perfect ring of 13 other pennies. Did someone get bored and arrange them that way or are they trying to cast a spell? I didn't dare disturb them, for fear of breaking the spell. I have bad enough luck as it is.
One of the radio stations I work for has not withheld one nickel of DC or federal tax, so I owe about a thousand dollars. I had specifically asked that in addition to the usual withholdings, they withhold an extra ten each for federal and local. When confronted, the head of human resources said "we thought you were claiming ten dependents, so we didn't withhold any." Ten dependents? Who do they think I am, Ethel Kennedy? I'm a single woman living in a one-bedroom condo. I don't think even the Osmonds had that many kids.
Americans are horrified that American soldiers and foreign journalists are being hurt and killed, their hotels are being shelled, their property is being looted. Well, duh, we are at war -- these things happen. What about IRAQIS who are being hurt and killed,whose property is damaged and stolen? That was why I didn't want us to go to war in the first place. All this is happening between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, the
"fertile crescent," the cradle of western civilization. What does this say for western civilization?
It's a lovely sunny day in Washington -- couples are dancing on DuPont Circle. Some of them are even heterosexual. Imagine that.
This morning on "Morning Edition" I heard a little Iraqi kid singing "thank you, George, thank you, Bush," in Arabic. Immediately after that, the same kid was singing "Saddam is the most beautiful name." Children are so changeable.
I was turned down for a cheaper insurance policy because of a preexisting condition. My mortgage guy says "they don't want you sick. They want you healthy or dead." My doctor says the condition won't shorten my life. Funny, you would think if I were dead faster, it would cost Blue Cross/Blue Shield less.
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