Archives For Ennui

I still got nothing.  This is a recurring theme.  It vexes me.

So why don’t I just pour some coffee and tea for everyone and we’ll have a nice chat, shall we?  The cookies will be out of the oven shortly.

Since I have nothing interesting to say, I’ll tell you a bunch of uninteresting things.  So if you’re already bored, I urge you to click away from this page now.  It’s only going to go downhill from here.

For starters, I think Hurricane Isaac is a dick for hitting the New Orleans area.  Come on, dude, haven’t the people in the Gulf suffered enough??  And Hurricane Katrina hit on August 29, 2005—-nice 7th anniversary gift, asshole.

Ah, there’s the buzzer, the cookies are done.  I’ve made a few different kinds.  Chocolate chip, peanut butter, oatmeal raisin, and maple prune.  Those last ones were an experiment but they don’t look very appealing.  I’d give those a pass if I were you.  Careful, they’re heavy.

The other day I heard “Empire State of Mind” by Jay-Z and Alicia Keys for the first time in a while.  I really don’t like that song.  This is the best you could do as a tribute to your hometown, dude?  Because if so, your best sucks.  As a native New Yorker, I’m offended.  I could make a recording of subway trains coming to a screeching halt, with Joe Pesci’s voice dubbed in, and it would still sound nicer than that song.  I want the ghost of Frank Sinatra to come down and kick the shit out of Jay-Z for writing that earsore.

Would you like coffee or tea?  Personally, I like my cup of coffee the way I like my men: strong, hot, and bottomless.

Now where was I?  Right.  Rambling aimlessly.

You know what I’d really love to do?  I’d really love to have my own old-fashioned ice cream parlor and soda fountain.  With tin ceilings, marble countertops, wrought-iron fixtures, and the type of soda fountain they used to have in pharmacies back in the day.  Like these:


Except I’d have much more comfortable tables and chairs.  And I would serve fancy ice cream sundaes, sodas, phosphates, and all kinds of other wacky concoctions.  But I’d add a bakery section too.  This way if you’d rather have cookies, pastries, or cake (hi Sandee!), or if you want ice cream and cake (and who doesn’t??), you can have your cake and eat it too, so to speak.  I think that would be nice.  A nice 19th-century-style confection emporium.  But to give it a little twist, the staff would all be dressed like saucy Victorian whores.  Including the men.

More coffee?  More tea?  No?  You suddenly don’t feel well and have to go home immediately?  Oh, what a shame.  You didn’t try those maple prune things, did you?  That’s a relief.  Why don’t you stop by tomorrow?  Oh, you’ll be busy.  Okay.  How about Saturday?  I see.  That’s so nice of your dentist to be open on the weekend.  Good luck with those root canals.  Want me to come over on Sunday to see how you’re doing after the dental work?  A silent retreat at your church after Mass, how interesting.  Isn’t that funny, I thought you were Jewish.  My mistake.

Well anyway, it was great to visit with you, we’ll have to do this again soon!

I’ve got nothing meaningful to say today.  Plenty of stuff flying through my brain but none of it very profound.  It’s Sunday, and any deep thoughts I may have are out having a martini brunch.  So here’s all I got today:

The Funky Scale
I’m pissed that I forgot to add Kingsley Shacklebolt to my original Scale of Funky. Mr. Weebles and I were watching one of the Harry Potter movies when we realized that we should have put him on the list. Because Kingsley is definitely funky. He has a funky name and a funky look. And he’s a wizard. You just know he’s got to be one of the funkiest wizards at the Ministry of Magic, if not the funkiest.

My goal is to have one of each of the original Weebles made during the 1970s. My collection is almost complete—I’m missing only about 6 of them. The inventor of Weebles, Ned Strongin, died just over a year ago at the age of 91. I have no idea how long it took him to perfect the Weeble, but I wonder what the protoypes looked like.  I’m thinking they looked something like this:

I can see why they probably wouldn’t have tested well in market research.

Also, I really want to make a Steampunk Weeble. But you’d be surprised at how difficult it is to find really tiny goggles.

The Weeblettes
These are the Weeblettes. Quite the little Rogues Gallery, aren’t they? They’re all girls, they’re all rescues, and they’re all wonderful. Adopt shelter pets!!

I like to cross-stitch.  It gives me else something to do while I’m just sitting around watching television.  But I lose interest pretty quickly, so I keep switching between patterns.  Right now I have 3 or 4 unfinished cross-stitch patterns.  I’ll complete them eventually.  The first cross-stitch piece I ever did is this one, which is now proudly displayed in my office:

I need to buy a doily to put under it so I can make it look extra dainty.

The New York Yankees

Like all arrogant Yankee fans, I expect my boys to go 162-0.  Right now they have a disappointing 28-24 record.  Meh.  Fortunately, the season isn’t even half over yet they’re still ahead of the Red Sox.

Geddy Lee
Every few weeks or so I have dreams about him. I had another one last night. I’m not sure why or how these dreams started. Although I’ve always liked Rush, Geddy didn’t do it for me when he was younger. But apparently he does it for me now, big time. I just hadn’t realized it during my waking hours. Maybe the Universe wanted to make sure I was aware of how much he rocks. And I have to say I think he looks pretty smokin’ hot in this photo.

Today I am bored

Madame Weebles —  April 28, 2012 — 7 Comments

It’s Saturday night. I should be doing something exciting and fun. What am I doing instead? Sitting on the couch with my laptop in front of me, watching Law & Order: SVU reruns that I’ve seen 87 times already. Well, actually, alternating between L&O, the Yankee game (thanks for a stellar outing, Freddy Garcia), and whatever true crime story is on the ID channel (Mr. Weebles and I are addicted to that channel). It’s sad, isn’t it.

What’s even sadder is, I’m considering doing laundry right now. Yeah. Laundry. Which isn’t quite as pathetic as it sounds, only because Mr. Weebles and I are blessed by having our very own washer & dryer in our apartment. So I can do laundry whenever I want. Sometimes I leave it in the dryer all night just because I can. Just for funsies. It’s so decadent, after years of watching the dryer like a hawk to prevent some asshole from taking my clothes out of the dryer the millisecond after it stopped.

So yeah, this is Saturday night in the Weebles household. On the Lame Scale, it’s only a few steps above sitting quietly as I listen to my body age.

See, the thing is, most of the things people do on Saturday nights just don’t hold much interest for me. I used to enjoy going to movies until the ordeal of body slamming thousands of moviegoers to get to my seat became too annoying. I suppose movie theaters have always been really crowded, but I’m getting more irritable and more impatient as I get older (which doesn’t bode well for 65-year-old me—Mr. Weebles will probably have me committed).

Going out for dinner can be nice, but so many restaurants these days are ridiculously noisy and/or jam packed, and if you don’t plan ahead with a reservation, chances are you’re going to have to wait for a table unless you get there at 5:30pm. I refuse to eat that early—I’m not a retiree in Miami Beach.

I don’t know, what else is there? I’m pretty unimaginative when it comes to finding other things to do that don’t involve being in an über-loud, über-crowded environment. I’m not a wild gal. My idea of a nice time is going to a library or museum. (It’s true, that’s what I think is fun.) But where can a cranky person like me go to have fun in NYC on a Saturday night?

You might ask, why the hell do you live there if you find the crowds and the noise so annoying? Well, the answer is simple. For the most part, I find the crowds and the noise comforting. I grew up in NYC. City life suits me. The suburbs, with trees and cars and whatnot, are completely alien to me. And I’m not moving to another city. The only way I’ll leave is if someone drags away my cold dead corpse. Despite the fact that New York City is nowhere near as great as it used to be. Because believe me, it’s lost a lot of appeal over the past 10 years or so.

By the way, not that you asked, but I place the blame for NYC’s decline squarely on Mike Bloomberg’s shoulders. Giuliani did some damage but I think Bloomberg has committed the greater sin here. He’s turned this city into a bland suburban metropolis. And by sanitizing and gentrifying everything and turning it into the ultimate tourist mecca, he destroyed most of the soul that made this city great. And he and his developer friends have made it so expensive to live here that the demographics of the city are getting completely skewed. We probably have more rich, entitled, brainless brats per capita now than we ever have before. Everyone who could no longer afford Manhattan moved to the outer boroughs or Jersey, and now those areas are becoming prohibitively expensive too. Ordinary people can barely get by nowadays. That means that a lot of really cool, creative, interesting people can no longer afford to live around here. So without them, their small businesses, their talents, and their diversity, the city has lost its vibrance and “grit.” I fear for the future of my once-awesome hometown but part of me still has a perverse hope that things may get better someday.

Well, thanks for keeping me company tonight (even though it probably won’t still be Saturday night when you read this).

Meanwhile, I’ve decided to do laundry tomorrow instead.

And if anyone has any suggestions on things to do that don’t involve being among the unruly masses for extended periods of time, let me know.