Don't Mince Words

As the cranky old lady of the internet, social networking can be annoying.  Probably because I’ve done BBS.  I’ve played in chat rooms.  I’ve created avatars and connected with people in communities with full voice duplexing and text.  I’ve built web pages without a CMS.  But as I’ve said before, I’ve gotta stay hip with the kids.  And I’ll do anything if it gets me laid or gets me a job.

Hence my love of LinkedIn.  I no longer have to send a mass email to my network that says “does anyone know the CMO at X Corporation?  There’s a great job there.”  LinkedIn has produced screaming efficiencies in my business networking.  It makes me feel like a whore in sensible shoes at a convention.  That is, until you see an old john.

The dark side of social networking is the algorithm used to connect you with others.  Schools, employers, outbox scrapes, and friend-of-a-friend connections are some of the ways social nets continually find people to keep you engaged.  LinkedIn was doing a pretty good job at helping me build my network until it decided my ex-husband was someone I should know.  I uttered a backwards scream and a GTFO and immediately clicked on the link, because you know I had to.  I had not seen him since 1994 and the last time we chatted, it was hilariously tragic.  He didn’t remember my name.  In this instance, this was what we call in the business a “happy” click.  His thumbnail image showed thinning hair (probably the result of 90′s hair product abuse) and puffy cheeks.

With a smile on my face, I X-ed him off my list.  He wouldn’t be able to get me a job, but at least I know I now have better hair.

Tex in his favorite position

To say Tex is my favorite pet isn’t fair to those before him, but rescuing, fostering, and adopting him has been a true experience.  He is mellow and wise like Yoda. He makes me smile every day.  I wanted to return the favor and throw a party for his 12th birthday.

Getting people to West Hollywood is hard.  There are parking restrictions and club kids and it’s an overall pain the ass for outsiders.  My big idea was to have a Saturday afternoon party and make it a cookout.  I distributed the menu and Tex’ gift registry (steer pizzle bones, Happy Hips, and glucosimine tablets).  Approximately 30 friends and former coworkers came out to celebrate the wonder of Mr. T and enjoy bratwursts, peach sangria, and a “dog” iTunes playlist.

Outside of his former adoption fairs, I’ve never seen Tex with this large a crowd.  He worked it like a whore at a convention.  Outside he’d observe the grill say hi to a few people and then collapse in the driveway where everyone gave him belly rubs.  Inside he paced the buffet table and made friends with messy kids.  Once in a while he’d walk over to his gift bag area and survey his goodies.  But the biggest accomplishment was Tex was awake for five hours.  This dog loves his sleep, but if there is food and people around, he can’t help himself.  He had plenty of opportunities to sneak off to the bedroom and take a disco nap, but he hung in until the last guest left, THEN he climbed into his bed and started snoring 30 seconds later.

Tex in his other favorite position

I realize getting a pet is buying in to a future tragedy.  Adopting an old dog can feel like pure insanity.  If this is insanity, then I like it.  I joke that Tex is my longest of long-term relationships.  I’ve done crazy.  I’ll take old dog any day.

Happy Birthday!

I’m pretty sure I’m never getting laid again, and I’m ok with it.  Here’s why.  My dog is in love with me.

It was a long courtship of walks, parks, car rides, and movies on the couch.  He waited to sleep with me for six months.  Then one day when I came home on crutches from foot surgery and he sprung into action.  While I was konked out on painkillers with my iced foot propped up on the couch, he climbed up and laid on top of me, like a hen on her chick.  I woke up when my dog walker came in and exclaimed, “oh my god Marna, are you ok?”  He reluctantly left for his walk.

Later that evening, my K9 nurse climbed into bed with me and slept with his head on my stomach watching me.  We’ve pretty much been sleeping together ever since – me and my 85-pound dog in a queen-size bed.

After Christmas, our relationship went to the next level.  He now wants to put his head on my shoulder and the pillow.  I was too tired to protest and move him the first night, then I realized his light snoring (similar to this dog) puts me to sleep faster than a wave machine.

I’m not sure what I’m doing right in this relationship, but it’s working.  I’ll take an old, rescued dog over a middle-aged man with baggage any day.  Tex is in it for the long haul.

2009 Thanksgiving

I had another one of those “oh fuck I do live in California” moments this week when I realized that 72 percent of my Thanksgiving guests were vegetarian or vegan. It really called into question if I had to buy a turkey or if I could get away with making turkey burgers.

I haven’t made the full switch yet, and I still enjoy fish, but I knew I’d have to cook and carve the turkey and get the carcass out of the house before the V’s arrived so as not to offend. They aren’t the wishbone snapping types. Dinner went off with out a problem, but the fun came afterwards.

The conversation reverted to vegetarian food: how to make a good tofu scramble, wheat-free breads, tempeh, and my soy chorizo. I watched my meat-eating Texan friend as we yammered on and I could tell he was ready to blow. This I knew because he arrived first and said something to the effect of, “there’s no reason to be a vegetarian except for religious purposes.” I mentioned cruelty in the food industry. He is in the “meat is tasty” camp. Needless to say, he was one of the first to finish up and leave, but not before he confirmed that vegan pumpkin pie was not as good without butter.

We enjoyed our vegetables and odd conversations without the presence of our own family members. That’s probably why we had a good time, just like the original settlers did minus the tofurky roast.

I’m going to pitch a new TV show to the networks.  ”Are you better at Wii than a 7 year-old” will feature gaming unsaavy adults playing Wii against their younger relatives.  I discovered during Easter, in my attempt to be hip with the nephews, I need to upgrade my Ms. Pacman-era gaming skills.

While everyone in the house was sick, the youngest nephew who is 7  took it upon himself to keep us entertained by “teaching” me some of his Wii games.  He enjoyed talking a lot and telling tips and tricks, but leaving out a few details to ensure he’d win every game.  Whatever.  I get it.  He gets crushed by his older brother so this was the first time he had an equal-skilled opponent.

After my day-long tutorial, my brother came downstairs laughing.  Apparently, I was in the kid’s evening prayers.  ”And thank you for bringing me Aunt Marna so that I had someone to play with whose butt I could whip.”

Just you wait kid.  I vow never to be in 12th place again in Super Mario Cart.  I’m going to find someone to play with here so I can start my driver’s ed.