Today is the day

So, you have noticed, by now, that I stopped counting chicken bones. It was just too depressing. I’m working on a linear regression model to predict the number of chicken bones I should see, the number that should be eaten, and the number that should be spit out on a daily basis, and will keep track that way. (Sadly, I’m not kidding about that.) The problem is that now the data is fuzzy, because I’ve taken to carrying Snausages and/or Beggin Strips (dogs don’t know it’s not bacon!) in my coat pockets to bribe Lou to spit out the bones. Whatever. The whole endeavor was kind of sad.

Tomorrow (today, later, really) is the day I find out about what that thing is growing in my belly. We all know I ain’t pregnant (unless technology has advanced to the point that you can get inseminated just by contact on the bus (it’s often quite close, so …). I am praying it’s just a fibroid, but my Lord, it is big. The NP who examined me actually said, “Whoa.” And, now that I know it’s there, I can’t help touching it — it feels like … well, you know how in the cartoons, Foghorn Leghorn would swallow a ham and you could see the outline of it in his belly? It feels like, and looks like (I saw it myself in the mirror at Marshall’s – gross all around) I swallowed a Fuji apple, or a tangerine, and it’s just haning out over my right hip. Gross. And, even more crazy is that I was so stuipd, I just thought I was firming up my lower abdominals through the power of positive thinking and sporadic leg lifts — no, that firmness was all about the tumor! Double gross. I have to believe it’s something simple — I can’t be broke, miserably displaced AND have bad health! The two former are bad enough. Cross your fingers. I’d cross mine, but I don’t want to cut off any important circulation before the MRI!

In other news: Eula is moving forward. I’m at a stand still on Uptown Hound right now, waiting for money to come in so I can pay for operating expenses that American Express is anxious to have remuneration for. The UH website is still planned to go live on April 15, but we’ll see if I have the cash to make that happen. It’s weird, because I don’t want to live here, but I still want to make this business work in NYC — I need a partner so I can be bought out by the end of the year. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, I suppose. I think the retail operations will still work no matter where I live, so that’s something to keep the endeavor going for me. Olive continues to plod along.

Okay, Lou is snoring to beat the band — sleeping half on the bed and half in the window well. He is having a hard time wtih his hot spots. I don’t know what else to do for him — not sure what he could be allergic to, but I am REALLY resisting the recommendations of my vet and other busy bodies that he needs a companion. I ain’t got 2-dog money. Oh, now he’s awake again — probably knew I was typing about him — so, I’ll take this opportunity to salve him up before bed. Later – j.


Get It

So, I am not one of those people … what are they called? Cinephiles? Cinematics? Whatever. Movies are okay, but I don’t go to special venues to see them, or follow the work of specific directors/actors, etc. That said … Have you seen In America? All the hopes I nurture for myself were voiced there — that love is the same no matter your country of origin, your race or creed; that people can be good to each other without meaning to; that it’s all going to be okay.

Is it contrived that the young heroine of the movie is as precocious as she is? You bet. Does the black man, who is also a sage of some sort, have to die to make the point about love? Okay, that’s cliche. These are things that would otherwise make me crazed, but here, they work. Go see it right now.

A couple of things

There is a man is walking down 7th Avenue right now, and he wants you to know that this ain’t no game and he ain’t playing. He would also like to point out that this ain’t Christmas. FYI.

It’s a gorgeous day outside, sunny, 50s, not a cloud in the sky. I need to get out at some point and take advantage, since it’s not often that a weekend day is this nice. The problem is finding something to do that doesn’t involve money. I took Lou to Central Park this morning … that was free. But, how many times can I do that? I don’t even have bus fare this week. Maybe it’s my fault. I could be a better money manager … if only I had some money to manage. They say being rich won’t make you happy, but I’m pretty sure that a few extra dollars would buy me some relief!

Good Things

So, even though I have only enough money to get to work tomorrow (which means not enough to get home after work), and today was pay day, and I have some big tumor in my belly (if you haven’t heard this until now, sorry, it’s scary! I will find out the real deal on Monday — who knows? It could just be un-digested cheddar … likely), I still believe there is a silver lining somewhere. It’s not desperate and depressing like Sylvia Plath, it’s more like Schleprock from the Flintsones, or any episode of Good Times — just when it LOOKS like you’re going to be okay, some bad-ass luck kicks you in the ass, you know?

Starting tomorrow, I’m going to buck the negative and finish what I started with Uptown Hound, Olive and Eula. I’ll be posting pictures of the Olive products — that’s right, I figured out how to do it! — and the items selected for the Uptown Hound online store. I have all this great pet-themed papercraft and knit/crochet-work (who doesn’t want a bespoke pet bed, I say? The height of luxury for your pooch/kitty.) that I can’t wait to share with you. And, that you won’t be able to resist buying. Trust me. You want a grosgrain trimmed leash, don’t you? Yes, you do. Shut up, you do.

The Uptown Hound website is nearing completion, and the Olive site is up and running, which is great news! Now, just to finalize the logo for Eula … and get the business running,

On a side note, I’m thinking of calling The Dog Whisperer (See the National Geographic Channel) to come in and treat Louis. Why do you think he would take his rawhide bones and bury them underneath the covers on my bed? I find them every night. He is either neurotic or passive aggressive — or, he has a wicked sense of humor. Peace out, y’alll – j.

March 15, 2005

Today was a good day … or at least not the usual suck day. I got super-motivated at work to write the definitive piece on word-of-mouth/consumer-created marketing. Thanks to Pete Blackshaw and Intelliseek (check it out at I will surely be an office super-star by this time next week … or next year … or sometime. The point is, I may be poor (okay, there’s no “may” about it, I am broke like Joe Theisman’s leg, or the Enron bank, baby), I may live in a crap part of the city (The New Harlem Renaissance? More like the New Harlem Renegades), I may be fat (but that could be the tumor, according to the doctor — I’ll find out on Monday. Not kidding, here), and I may be poor (which I already said, but it’s that bad, so I’ll say it again), but things are looking up. Nevermind that my bank balance post-payday is $14.00. At least I’m in the black. More later …!
In the meantime, read this for some good celebrity-based schaudenfreude: Peace out, y’all

Um, okay

I hate to keep writing about the mouse, but I think it’s good to have a record of my descent into madness in case my future behavior needs any explanation. Just point the judge/jury/media/handler/psychiatrist or whomever to my blog.

So, this morning, I was in the bathroom doing what people do in the morning in the bathroom, when here comes Ferdinand (that’s what I named this mouse) strolling, and I MEAN strolling down the hallway. He sat right in front of the bathroom door, and when I screamed “Mouse”, he strolled down the hallway — HE DID NOT RUN — towards the kitchen. So, I finished my morning tinkle, and then ran from the bathroom to try to catch him. Then, he started running and ran under the fridge. I scooped up the last of the D-con and threw it under the fridge in the hope that he might gorge himself and DIE. But, no. I got on the phone with my cousin Veronica to talk about the great vacation we will surely take one day soon, and in the middle of imagining Brazil in May, here comes Ferdinand again. He’s moving slowly, so I think the D-Con is working. Poor Veronica has to talk me through the murder, but after putting a box over him and running to get the killing broom I finally smashed him good. Great, right?

No, because Ferdinand must have owed some other mouse money, because another mouse came looking for him tonight. Scurried from under the stove and was stealthy in his attempt to get across the floor to the closet. This one was quick, but he’s about to be quick and dead. I am a mouse murderer. And, I’m proud of it.

Check it out:

Wish me luck. On payday, I’m going to buy a set of night vision goggles, and maybe a gun. This apartment isn’t big enough for the three(?), four(?), ten(?) of us. The fuzzy brown horde has got to go.