So what had happened was–
It’s a couple days before Christmas, I’m at Grand Central Station, and there’s some time before the train to Connecticut. Not a lot of time, but some time. Enough to grab a drink.
There’d been some drinking the night before, so I didn’t want another glass of wine. I just wanted something to sip while I waited, so I ordered a Scotch. Glenlivet, with one ice cube.
This is what came to the table:
“No, excuse me, I wanted it with just one ice cube,” I said. “Or neat. There’s water in this, right?”
“No, ma’am. That’s all Scotch.”
“Why? Are you trying to kill me?”
It’s got to be $40 worth of Scotch that they gave me for $12. I’ve thought about it for a while, and I can’t figure out which one is the answer.
1. The bartender was crazy-impressed with my order, and went balls-out on the pour. (This happens sometimes, apparently a woman ordering Scotch sends some bartenders over the edge. A few months ago when I ordered, the bartender turned to my friend and said, “You need to marry this woman.” Yes, because she doesn’t mind getting drunk before her meal.)
2. The bartender assumed anyone ordering Scotch at that hour was on her way to an extremely trying Christmas vacation, and was trying to say, “Lady, I get it.”
3. The bartender assumed the Scotch was for the gentleman next to me. When the waiter arrived, he placed the wrong drink in front of me. “Champagne for the lady?” he said, with a flourish. Nope. Champagne for the gentleman. It was one of those moments where I’m hoping it comes off all cool, but inside I’m mortified that it looks like I have an actual drinking problem.
Whatever the bartender had in mind by pouring half a bottle of Scotch into a glass, I mostly felt bad that I barely put a dent in it by the time I had to leave for the train. Not that I didn’t give it my best shot.
It was one of my better Christmas presents this year.
Keeping Up Tradition
Same place, same day, new year, new terminal. Thankful for the things that stay the same, grateful for the things that are new.
Hmm. I did have a picture taken from last year’s Jet Blue post-Xmas flight, but now I remember I never got to post it, as a woman sitting at the table next to me struck up a conversation and we ended up eating lunch together, swapping stories of love and romance. One thing I’ve definitely inherited from my mother is whatever it is that causes strangers to want to intensely bond for about an hour and then disappear forever.
Happy holidays, everybody. Hope your days are filled with love.
Activating Niya
Here’s the thing about Niya. She sits across from me at the table every day, and while I never know exactly when it will happen, there will be a point where she goes off. Sometimes it’s over something seemingly innocuous, like cookies. Or dogs. I particularly enjoy the times it’s about how she would have reacted if she were me in a certain situation. (“Oh, you need to listen. I don’t know who the FUCK you think you are, but…”)
I have often said I’m trying to be able to tap into my inner Niya, and she says she’s working on her outer Pam.
In a conversation about Twitter and Facebook, Niya went off on how annoying Twitter is: “It’s just one damn thing after another, on and on about how perfect everything is in her life, all these little moments I couldn’t give a FUCK about because I DON’T LIVE WITH HER. “My darling Jessie just came home from school.” “Jessie just drank some milk.” “Jessie got all A’s!” “I love my perfect family!” “Dinner: what to make?” “Laundry, I just did it.” Why don’t you put down the damn Twitter and join your perfect goddamn family?!?”
This turned into Niya telling me what she thinks about women who call themselves the CEO’s of their families. I loved it so much it made me want to make my very first YouTube video. Enjoy.
in celebration of hot nerdy boys.
PAMIE
How was the rest of your weekend?
DANA
Good. I just… I’m so frustrated, because I’m having to do all these graphs for this class, and I don’t understand some of this computer shit. I mean, I’m very smart. Obviously. But then like, I don’t have to know Excel for any part of my life, so I don’t know it, and now I’m supposed to make a graph?
PAMIE
Well, I know some people who could probably help you learn to graph that.
DANA
You mean you don’t?
PAMIE
… I could figure it out.
DANA
Well, I was talking to my friend on the phone yesterday and I told him I was just so angry because everything I didn’t know about computers was looking at me in the face and I didn’t know what to do. And then he goes, “Okay, well, tell me this, and tell me this and go to this place here and read me that,” and then Pamie, oh my god.
PAMIE
He was in your computer.
DANA
He was IN MY COMPUTER. He was controlling my mouse! I was just watching him and he was… he was inside me.
PAMIE
It’s really hot.
DANA
Pamie, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I’m not even kidding. Don’t make fun of me.
PAMIE
No, it’s always hot. It’s even a little thrilling when the Geek Squad people do it. I’ve done it before, and it’s fun to do to other people, too.
DANA
He cleaned up my desktop and moved things around and then I got nervous.
PAMIE
Well, it’s scary the first time.
DANA
I didn’t know what he’d find.
PAMIE
You’re very vulnerable, letting someone inside like that. Past your firewall.
DANA
You are making fun of me.
PAMIE
Only a little. But it is hot. Smart boys who fix things. And boys who make graphs. I’m just surprised you liked it so much. If I’d told you this, you’d make fun of me.
DANA
No, Pamie, I’m a nerd, too. Don’t you know that?
PAMIE
Uh-huh.
DANA
I love nerds. Haven’t you seen my friends? You’re all nerds.
PAMIE
Yeah, you’re right. Maybe you are supposed to be hanging out with your hot, pretty friends. Those other girls.
DANA
No, those hot, pretty girls are nerds, too.
PAMIE
DON’T SAY THAT. That’s not fair. You don’t get to be both.
DANA
I still say that you are a hot, pretty nerd, too.
PAMIE
Unh.
DANA
I want to do it again. Get him inside my computer. I cleaned up a little in case he does.
PAMIE
What, did you wax your hard drive?
DANA
Kinda.
PAMIE
I love how that boy got your inbox all hot.
DANA
I am sad that you haven’t updated your website in a long time.
PAMIE
Can I write about this?
DANA
Sigh. I suppose that’s what I get.
day without a gay
It’s International Human Rights Day. Gay or straight, find a way to be of service today. Fight H8 with love.
playing in a constant loop in my head lately:
- Ingrid Michaelson: Girls and Boys
- Track: “The Way I Am“
Holiday Shopping Suggestion: Akawelle
This is so beautiful:
My friend Cori does incredible things. Years ago I was going to go to Africa with her to help restock a medical facility or build a school or something super-important like that, but instead I sent them my father’s laptop and started working for Mind of Mencia. I will probably never recover from the Karmic debt I created with that decision. But I can keep trying.
Cat on the Prowl: Pamela Ribon
Cat Davis had me on her show. She made me cook for her, dress her, repeatedly defend my sexual identity, and perform my unrehearsed Cat Davis impression while sleeveless in harsh sunlight. She made me laugh so hard I got all teary and so there’s something in my eye for the first half of the episode.
Come share half an hour with the two Vageniuses. What better way to spend those last few minutes you’re stuck in the office?
This Turkey Day Eve, Cat is super thankful to be on the prowl with writer/comedian (and Cat Davis doppleganger) Pamela Ribon (Samantha Who?). It’s holiday heartbreak time when Kevyn cheats on Cat, and Pamie breaks the news that Cat has no chance with a certain Samantha Who? actress (whose name rhymes with “Mean Heart”).
Thank goodness for holiday comfort food! Pam shares her favorite Thanksgiving recipe, and Cat drowns her sorrows in pumpkin pudding. It turns out to be a happy holiday after all when Cat all but succeeds in taking the “Honor” out of straight Pam’s “Honorary Lesbian” status.
I had the video embedded, but the margins cut off the right side of the frame. So instead, go here to watch.
(I’m doing a parody of Cat’s opening from this episode.)
(More of Cat on the Prowl right here.)
conversation with mom
Pamie
…And then I said, “Well, that sounds dangerous, so please don’t tell me about it until it’s over or I will worry about it from now until it’s over.”
Mom
That’s exactly what you should have said.
Pamie
Which is how I knew I’d officially turned into you. I no longer want to hear about dangerous things people are doing until they’re done doing them. I suddenly understand why the mom of the girl at the Olympics wouldn’t even watch her compete. Used to think it was selfish; now believe it’s completely sensible.
Mom
This is why I don’t want to know anything about roller derby.
Pamie
Which is why I didn’t tell you when I broke my tailbone.
Mom
You should still tell me when you break your tailbone.
Pamie
And lie about how I did it?
Mom
I need to know when you break something.
Pamie
So you can get mad? Or so you can stop worrying that I’ll break something and start worrying about how I’ve broken something?
Mom
Both.
Pamie
I am careful, Mom. I watch out for myself.
Mom
Uh-huh. I’m sure you do, but you live in a city full of crazy people.
Pamie
Myself included.
Mom
People are always dying out there. Murdered in the streets. Whenever I watch one of these television shows, the murders and death are always happening in Los Angeles. Dangerous city.
Pamie
Mom… that’s because they make those shows in Los Angeles. This is where they make television. If they made all the television shows in Chicago, you’d think Chicago was the most dangerous city in America.
Mom
No, there are other dangerous cities. CSI: Miami, CSI: New York…
Pamie
Mom, I work at CSI: New York.
Mom
Really?
Pamie: Yes. They shoot across the street from my office. We’re on the same lot. And I can’t believe I just called a city “CSI:” anything.
Mom
Would you say hi to Gary Sinise for me?
Pamie
No. He gives me the creeps.
Mom
Well, that’s crazy. He seems like a nice guy.
Pamie
Why doesn’t Gary Oldman make movies anymore?
Mom
Now, THAT’S a creepy guy.
Pamie
Yeah, but he was really good at it.
Mom
What were we saying?
Pamie
That I’m going to be careful when I’m walking through the streets of CSI: New York at night.
Mom
Good. I love you.
Pamie
I love you, too, Mommy.
Weird fact I recently learned:
One-fifth of the writing staff thought I wear glasses.
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