Waning Crescent

So apparently there has in fact been a moon these past few nights, but it was very slight and tucked in much too early for me to have seen it.

Tonight's moon was on the way out. The official name seems to be a "waning crescent."

Pugs snoring, smell of poo...tonight after a delightful soak under the stars with a nightcap of Frenet, Lulu was sitting just inside the door. She was acting suspicious, so I lit a torch and followed my nose into the kitchen where...ooops...she did it. She was obviously sorry that she had had that accident, and she had done such a splendid job of chasing away some skunks earlier in the evening that I couldn't be at all upset.

There are countless sounds at night. Whooshing and scratching and rustling round sounds

You get straight what you need to get that way.

The new Element is the exact same color (different names, though..this one is "Atomic Blue" because Honda engineers are predicting the planet Earth will be reduced to an area of materials which are an-atomically incapable of contributing to their own self maintenance nor reproduce their own number to carry on on their own behalfs.

The Honda dealership in Walnut Creek has a completely opposite approach to selling cars than the Toyota dealership "across town" on the more southerly end of Main Street. Oh, no.

So the weirdest thing about this deal, besides the different attitudes toward the sales pitch (the Toyota salesman was very forceful, very direct, gave me his card with the name and number of the "Director of Internet Sales" at the dealership at the mention of the Eye-word.

Back at the office, I searched the Toyota dot com site and came to a "Buy" link, which let me query certain cars and ask for prices (I had told my salesman that I intended to shop the Web) and I heard from three or four Toyota dealerships in the area, including someone from the WC dealership who claimed to be the "Manager of Internet Sales".
Was that just me? Was that for my benefit?

I told my Honda salesman that I had felt violated by the Toyota dealership on the "other" side of town, because I had been told one thing and then discovered on my own that someone had been flexing the truth.

This was the same salesman, Dave, who laughed when I told him that the Element "didn't get me hard" and then offered me $4700 trade-in on the Rav, although I had mentioned that I was late for lunch and feeling hungry, and since he was already playing with himself how would he feel about letting me help myself to a little bit of protein while I help him as well?

It feels as if I must have fought very hard not to respond in kind to the blatant suggestions being made by the hot salesman. Heck if I had let things happen, I would have been much happier with the trade-in offered being a full three thousand below KBB's suggested price.

I wonder if, around the dealership, it's a known feature of this extremely successful salesman's service that there are times when certain parts of the "deal" don't go through.

When the salesman brought the Rav back to the sales lot, to return possession to me, he didn't announce his return. My brother Edward noticed him, as he backed the Rav to the "Customer Parking" fence and went inside to fetch some window cleaner and a rag. "It's amazing what Windex will take off." he said, as he removed the yellow "Not For Sale" sticker from the windshield.

It wasn't until we returned home that we noticed the Rav's rear end.

While the "In-n-Out Burger", "Pornstar" squiggle text blue oval, and the gallery's No Place Like Here signage were still bearing witness, there had been a disrespectfully rough attempt to remove my "My Child was Inmate of the Month" and my "Masturbation is Not a Crime" stickers.

Three words.

Irreplaceable.

Car Deal

After the Ravioli died coming off of the freeway two weeks ago, I got worried. The road to the beach house is windy, unlit, mountainous...there's sketchy cell phone reception, at best...the nearest tow truck could be fifty miles away...I had visions of Isabella, Lulu, myself, a mountain lion and a black bear, all hungry, in the dark night...
so I test drove a 2007 Rav4 which has a choice of 4- 6- or 8-cylinder. WTF?? Apparently Toyota is using the same frame for all of their SUVs these days, so there is no more such thing as a "casual" SUV. They're all huge to ginormous. There's also no more standard shift. Retardville!
Huge.
The new Rav4 would not fit into my garage without major reshuffling.

The next day I thought I would try out the Honda CRV and then the Element. The salesman was handsome, and sexy, and he kept touching himself through his pants...I swear to you! I didn't enjoy driving the Element at all, and told the salesman that it "didn't get me hard," and yet...here it is, in my garage. The key selling point for me was its cleanability, and doghair impregnable upholstery. You can literally hose the interior out!! I'm also attracted to the suicide doors, and total flexibilty of the interior as far as seats folding up/folding down/coming out/going down, etc., etc. For 4 cylinders it's a peppy box - I consider it a "camionette" because it's so much like a small truck. It's 4wd, and has an automatic transmission - this so that I can let my chauffeur drive me around, as well as run to PetSmart for pug kibble.

When I was test driving, it was already lunch hour and my blood sugar was low. So was my blood alcohol, no doubt. I signed up for 2.9% financing, and traded in the Ravioli for $4700. In sudden remorse, I finagled the Rav back from them in exchange for a check...it felt devious, but justified when I saw that Kelley suggested a $7700 private sales price. I had made the deal on Friday, and owed them the title...on Sunday I called to ask the hot salesman if I could buy the Rav back, and he put me on hold before telling me that it was "absolutely too late - sorry." The next day(Memorial Day) the finance guy called to see if I had dropped off the title, and I asked him the same thing...and, voila! he was willing to do anything to keep the customer happy, so of course if I would simply bring them a check they would give me back the car...

and then the meager accessories that I bought at the same time I bought the car - a cargo net, a floor mat, and a roof rack - came in, and we scheduled installation for "all day saturday." The special storage armrest (for property keys, methinks) had come in on Wednesday, but they wouldn't install it for me because, technically, I had not bought it as part of the new car contract. I had ordered it the day after I signed the contract. Oh, and just as I was picking up the car on Saturday evening, the parts department turned off their light and closed, so I couldn't take the arm rest with me to install myself. Well, when they called me to find out how happy I was with their service, I told them exactly what I thought about the armrest situation and they offered to install it for me. I felt like such a cunt, but, heck, it took them all of 15 minutes and they had kept the car ALL DAY SATURDAY Joke 'em if they can't take a fuck. I'll write them a nice thank-you letter, and name names. Management loves that the most.

so when I was pulling into the garage on Saturday, with my newly installed roof rack, I drove forward very slowly. I know that there would be very little clearance now with the blue bicycle hanging from the ceiling. Nothing...nothing...nothing...then BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!! The roof rack had not only made contact with the bicycle, but at my delicate pace it had lifted the bicycle off of the pegs, and dropped it onto the roof and hood of the car. Nice work, at 312 miles, eh? You will be thrilled (I hope) to learn that I was able to leap from the Element and, reaching around the door, grab the bicycle with my left hand and hold it up, preventing it from tumbling onto the TT. Phew! Cunt karma stings!

Then the wheel turned again, and I sold the Rav for $6500 - even with black smoke coming out when it's started. Oops.

Starving Birds

I feel responsible for untold numbers of bird deaths.
Since moving into a log cabin in November of 2005, I have been trying to maintain a critter-free human and pug only habitat. This part of the coast was heavily forested until the turn of the last century. Migrating populations have relied on finding what they need for their survival on a leg of their long journey that has this spot as a verified safe home. Like the large number of ocean birds that washed up recently, dead of starvation, is a very similar indication. Last year at this time of year, you had flown for 2500 miles and were ready to crash in your sweet little mud bed. You had been returning to this nest every spring since 1991. You were hatched in this very spot. It had been built by your great-great-great-great grandparents when the house was new. Swallows had built nests wherever they could, and by carefully selecting which nests to knock down and which to allow, successive generations would return to the same nest year after year. As families grow, they will expand their mud network of nests in that same permitted area.

Am I being too mean?

So to remember John Stamos replacing Antonio Banderas in the revival of Nine on Broadway is not entirely pleasant.

Antonio had received rave notices on his U.S. Stage Debut, in a limited, sold-out run. I wanted to see this show, but didn't get to New York until after Antonio had left. (see, They can’t say anything bad about your acting if they can’t get into the theater to see it.)
John Stamos seemed to have some discomfort at being watched by so many people all at once, all expecting that he would know what to say and do next, or hoping that his character would.
When he came upon unfamiliar turns in the lyrics (how much time had he been given to learn them? Obviously Mister Stamos is no showtune lover. No gay knocks for me, Aunt Ida.) he turned upstage and mumbled. He may have run the back of his hand across his mouth, but that may have been Elaine Stritch demonstrating how she put her fingers in her mouth when she went up on “The Ladies Who Lunch.”

It’s a goddam beautiful day! Shut up!

So after spending a few minutes on IMDB.COM and even fewer on IBDB.COM I discovered that Mister Stamos was the replacement for the Master of Ceremonies in the Roundabout revival of"Cabaret" for six years! Two years before that he filled in as J.Pierrepont Finch, for nearly four months.

Kiki o'Kiki

I absolutely agree that "Kiki's Delivery Service" is a wonderful movie.
I am not fond of the 1989 'merikan voiceovers. On second viewing, listening to the original Japanese which included original music and songs, the effect was closer to timeless.

Connie had a "date" tonight. Not in a car this time, but at a hotel bar. Eight o'clock. The number was working late at a cancerous infant ward down in Palo Alto, and hadn't had dinner. Neither had Connie. Oh, well, let's just have a few cocktails and get acquainted. Ok, one more.

Oh, he was hot! He was totally sexy, totally hot, really hot body, well, kinda hairy, and not worked out, but really sexy and going on, and he was having a hard time resisting but I had no trouble at all!"

"So what you're describing is a date rape situation."

"What?"

"You overpowered him, you are bigger and stronger than he is.You forced your mouth on his, without even inquiring whether..."

"What, whether he had herpes simplex, and was currently experiencing an outbreak? That sounds like a great way to break the mood!"

"I'm glad I called. I had a feeling you could use a phone call from a friend just about then."

"Oh, he was so hot! He was totally into me, too. I'm sure I'll be hearing from him again!"

"What did you say? You know for sure you won't be hearing from him again?"

Kiki, oh, kiki.

Return of the Thing

The rain came today, after four days of sparkling weather. Iris are blooming all over the garden (rumor has it that there are one or two black iris in there...) Rupert Everett's autobiography is a great read - nearly finished, after replacing the wire mesh around the chimney's rain guard - I'm satisfied that the dead bat I found in the living room came in through the chimney flu, so I braved steep ladders on a steep roof with an audience of p.o.'ed swallows to replace the tattered mesh.

After my workout, I decided that I wasn't so desperate as to sit in the hot tub under a steady heavy rain. The moon will be full tonight, and by 3 am it will be over the ocean, and by then the clouds may be cleared by the projected change in wind direction, so I've set the tub to heat to 104 by 1.

Such a sad, empty life.

JD came by the house to pick up his XBox. He stayed that night, and the following one. His chief comment about the card I had sent (in which I said that I hoped there would be no hard feelings, we just can't be together, good bye and good luck, do you want this XBox or not?) was disbelief that I had offered to let him sleep on the sofa from time to time, if he ever needed innocent shelter.

"The SOFA?! HELL!"

And he didn't build a wall of pillows between us.