Phone Phun

Saturday, Sept. 20, 2003 - 7:20 a.m.

Cramps are yucky. But I'm always glad when Aunt Flo gets here, because I couldn't afford it if she was a no-show.

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Early yesterday afternoon, when I spoke to Paul, I sang 'Before I Saw The Door' to him (an original song of mine). He kept saying things to me like "Holy shit, -I- didn't know you could -sing-!" etc. etc. I reckon that was one of the things that I didn't do while I was in Utah. He was very nice to give such positive feedback.

I'm planning to gird my keys and call Todd Thalimer and see about a jam session with him Sunday morning. I have known Todd for ten years as an onliner, and I've never spoken to him by telephone. So this will be nice.

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Late yesterday afternoon, after her cell minutes became free, Cheri and I got on the phone. She says I'm free to write down what she told me, so here goes: For her birthday from a friend, Cheri received a nice healthy gift certificate for use at drugstore.com. So she decided to treat herself. She bought a humidifier, she bought the really good razor blades, she bought a mega economy sized box of condoms, and she bought a vibrator. As is her usual habit, she had the items shipped to her office, because according to the delivery dates promised, she would be in the office when the box arrived. Instead, the box arrived early -- on her day off. Her boss, who rightfully reserves the right to open all parcels delivered to his office, called her at home and said to please come get the box from drugstore.com. So Cheri, who had been suffering from a cold and was actually looking forward to the humidifier more than anything else, got dressed, gathered up her roommate's dog for a walk, (and to prevent anybody from detaining her in the office on her day off) and headed to the office to pick up her parcel. When she got there, she discovered to her horror that the shipping box was enormous -- at least three feet by two feet -- and that it had already been opened and refastened closed. Her boss saw her walk in, and picked up the telephone and began saying 'yeah, uh huh, yeah... no, okay...uh huh" even though Cheri could plainly see the switchboard, which had no blinking lights on it. So, she had to carry home this big box, while wrestling with the dog on the leash, all the while knowing her boss had had a peek.

Oh. Almost forgot. Drugstore.com included a free gift with the order... K-Y Jelly. Thoughtful of them, wasn't it?...

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Late last night, I IMed with Scott Hysmith, who weathered Isabel. He's on assignment near Washington D.C., and this was the first hurricane he'd ever been through, and even though it consisted of content he's seen before -- because he's settled in Seattle and has been for some time now -- he never saw rain and wind and darkness arranged in quite that manner or at that speed. So it was good to see him online, and see him with power.

Unless of course, he had been powering the laptop by rubbing balloons on his sweater. I didn't even think to ask. Hmmm.

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Paul called again around midnight my time; he reported that he had just the unfettered joy (note sarcasm) of calling the police on two underagers who were smoking funny stuff under his carport. He wants to take those two little shits on a field trip out to where his brother is buried and rub their noses in the grave dirt and tell them how stupid it would be for them to end up like his brother did.

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I saw in the news where Slim Dusty died.

For those Americans who do not know who this is, then -- darn. You missed a bonzer bloke.

Slim Dusty was the Australian equivalent of Johnny Cash, and Willie Nelson, and Pete Seeger, all rolled into one. He made over one hundred albums, and was working on album number 106 when he passed from this incarnation to the next.

Thanks, Slim. Where you are now, may there never be A Pub With No Beer.

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