No. Not this kind. Thanks. Already got this kind.

So, not only am I unemployed and apparently unemployable, even by temp agencies…

Now, apparently, my old, ugly, decidedly uninteresting car is worthy of breaking into.

6 a.m.

My doorbell is buzzing.

It’s my nice neighbor come to tell me she found the back passenger seat window of my car has been smashed.

I walk out to see why someone would do this thing.

Apparently because some moron needs to rummage through the trash on the front passenger floor, throw it in the back seat, and go through the glove box.

No, idiot criminals of Fresno, I do NOT keep valuables in my car. No, idiot criminals of Fresno, I do not HAVE valuables. I am probably WAY more broke than you are.

And now, thanks to you, I have to figure out how I can cover the deductible for the insurance on my aging car so I can repair the window that you destroyed; a window you destroyed to get NOTHING.

Hm… unless you got into my trunk and fucked around. Not that there’s anything worth having there, either, but hey… maybe you really wanted that case of drinho soymilk that I’ve been too lazy to carry upstairs for a week or two.

I’ll go check on that.

GDMFSOBPOSAHRB petty criminals!

May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your nether regions.

Jesus, I’m pissed. Why MY car? You can’t tell the car of a person who has nothing at all?

So, now I have no life… no love… no job… no money… debt piled up so high I can’t see past it… no relief in sight… and now I have unwanted primitive air conditioning in my car.

I have no idea how I’m going to pay to get this fixed. NO fucking clue.

At least the day can’t get any worse, right?

Update - 9:50 a.m. Ok, so my insurance deductible for this is less than what a new window would cost, but I don’t even have that. So… if you feel sorry for me, click this and give me a dollar…

And if you’re in Fresno, the lovely, gorgeous, wonderful, very kind friend Solitaire, has set up a “Save The Joy” effort… She’ll be tending bar at The Starline on Tuesday, August 12. Show up, buy drinks, tip her, and I get to pay for my car window! See how this works? I’ve volunteered to be her barback/slave for the evening, because I should work for my charity handouts… so we’ll see if that’s going to fly with the powers that be. If nothing else, I’ll be there, cheering her on in her bartending efforts. (And she’s just way cute anyway.) So… yeah.

I’m not proud. I can’t afford to be anymore. Give me a handout. I SWEAR I’ll be grateful and bless you for it.

Second edit 12:19pm Ok. Just in case anyone is wondering, no I do NOT spend my days sitting in front of the computer. I just happen to be doing that today because I’ve been doing job searches and job applications online. It is really surprising the amount of time this takes, especially when they require you re-enter ALL your resume info for EVERY single job for which you’re applying. Time consuming. Tedious. A little depressing. Can you BLAME me for watching the email and checking the comments that come through on my blog in between searches and applications?

Wish me luck, people. I just really, truly want to be in the position that little things like today don’t throw me off so drastically. If you know if anyone is hiring, send ‘em my way, or me theirs. Being gainfully employed would put a COMPLETELY different perspective on the events of my morning. It would just be another thing to take care of and get fixed rather than the choice between the phone bill, the food bill, the insurance payment, or the power bill.

I know it won’t last forever. I’m hoping it won’t last another day or so.

The GOOD news is, my shower is fixed, so it isn’t constantly running. Joe, the maintenance guy, was very nice, and I am grateful to him. See? The day’s getting better already. I can shower now. And be NOT smelly.

Onward!

I met one of my neighbors on my porch today…

At first I thought we weren’t going to be friends…

But then, when I went downstairs, my attention was requested…

And we had happy fun scratchy time together, oh… it was bliss…

And that’s when I met Satan…

Apparently it was just a little too good… too exciting… too itchy scratchy… and I have a war wound…

I picked these up at a consignment store a while back, along with several OTHER pairs of pretty foot coverings.

Apparently there’s some woman out there with the same size foot as me who buys gorgeous shoes, wears them once or twice, or never wears them, then decides to take them to the consignment store.

Yay for me!

So, I got lucky when my friend, Madame Peekaboo Pansy, called me from the store and said “You need to get down here right now. There are these shoes here on sale for $12 a pair.”

So I did. And went home with 10 pairs of shoes for probably a tenth of what was originally paid for them.

I… had a shoegasm.

This shot was taken on June 13th, at the Suicide Lounge show, by the lovely APJ, who incidentally also has great appreciation for a fine pair of heels.

I started sitting for life drawing sessions and workshops. And I’m finding it rewarding. Not just because I get paid to sit still for a few hours. It’s really fun for me to get up between poses and see what each of the artists is doing. It’s always so interesting to see what each person’s different style and medium brings forth on canvas or paper. It doesn’t matter to me whether it’s a style or a look that I prefer. I find that I really enjoy just being an instrument these people can use to create something they think is beautiful. Sometimes it’s just a vague sketch of a figure, sometimes there is detail, sometimes it’s splashes of color in the shape of me, sometimes it’s just a simple sketch.

I find it all fascinating, and very rewarding that just by sitting still I make it possible for these people to express something that might not have been otherwise.

I sat on Tuesday evening, and this is the product of one of the artists. Believe it or not, she had this nearly done by the end of the first 20 minute pose. I neglected to get her name, but I was so impressed. She does beautiful work, and I hope to see more of the things she’s done.

*I* got to go to a wedding last Saturday.

It was the wedding of these two bloggers.

Aaaaand… since they successfully completed the gauntlet of planning, organizing, and surviving ceremony, reception, and groovin’ concert party… they’re taking some well-deserved time to get-the-hell-out-of-Dodge and enjoy a honeymoon. Hence… They will NOT HNT this week.

But, hey. That’s what friends are for. So we’re HNT-ing FOR them. Because that’s how we are. Lecram’s camera captured the following, and I’m sure you’ll see other comments and perspectives from some of the other bloggers who were caught enjoying the festivities.

The bride, with a particularly HNT-like pose:

The groom. No… not that guy… THAT guy, to whom he points:

Aren’t they cute?

And, of course, there were many bloggers in attendance.

Me… with the bride (I swear, I adore this woman):

And another of me with this blogger, and of course you know THAT guy:

Graced with appearances by these two:

Here’s APJ with Mrs. Thereminman:

And, of course, the ever-lovely Solitaire:

And, a bonus photo. My very own podling with 1/3 of the Suicide Lounge, the Fabulous Fingers B:

The evening was lovely, the happy couple looked… well, very happy. And everyone there was happy FOR them. Great food and drink, great company among those who love and care for the bride and groom, then later, a GREAT show by Ticket To Ride and dancing off of feetsies. While the band took a break, a beautiful moment between bride and groom engineered by friends because of a SNAFU with the vows at the ceremony. I’ll let others describe the situation. I’ll just say that in my opinion, such a SNAFU made the evening more sweet for those watching because of the friends who went out of their way to make sure that vows WERE said in the manner intended and… well… Somebody else tell the story, because I wouldn’t do it justice.

It was just wonderful to see two such amazing people be supported by friends who love them so much.

Happy HNT to everyone. And Congratulations and Best Wishes and MANY Happy Returns of the Day to Zx3gurl and Fishstick. I wish you a wonderful forever.

Update 9:59 a.m.

Generik took photos at the wedding too. They’re here. (In case you didn’t see the link he left in the comments for this post.) Some really great shots! I’m totally stealing the ones with the podling in them.

Ok, so who’s going to pool all these various photos into a site/blog for Zx3gurl and Fishstick?

You can’t tell, can you? Me… hiding… among the tiki wine gods…

Of course, there were empty cups. SOMEone was supposed to join us for the ritual burning of meat, a low-key homage to the impending un-bachelorness of a longtime bachelor. But called and cancelled. So we burned meat and sacrificed the green fairy and some wine to… somebody. There were other celebrants as well.

Because I don’t have time to take NEW photos. If I did, I might have taken a photo of my orangey stained hands. (I just henna’d my hair today, and had run out of plastic gloves, but didn’t discover that until it was prepared and ready to be slopped on my hair. So… orange hands.) Or, I might have tried to get a good shot of the color of what my hair looks like RIGHT after I’ve used the henna…

But no, I have nothing like this for you today.

So… instead… you get this photo I’m still not very happy about, though other people have said it’s nice.

I have GOT to get over my self image issues and just accept what I look like. Maybe someday.

It’s an enormous file, because I was too lazy to make it smaller.

Now… back to sewing furiously so I don’t start out completely naked for my first try at burlesque in front of people on Sunday. That would be so anticlimactic.

At least… that’s the rule.

It’s a stupid rule.

What do you think?

I got a free dinner last night. I’ll blog about that on Fresnocentric.com later.

This is my HNT, though.

See? There’s my hand. Grasping a glass of something called… um… “somethingsomethingsomething Raspberry Lambic Ale”.

It was reddish. And pretty. Thing is… after wandering through a place with a slightly watered-down ambience of an Irish pub… my mouth was watering for some nice, chewy, yummy beer-like substance.

Yeah. So if you’re looking for something like that, and you’re a woman, do NOT let the waitress recommend something from the menu.

She meant well. I’m sure she took one look at me and went “Oh… she’ll want something a little lighter, a little more girly…”

So I ended up with something that tasted suspiciously like raspberry iced tea, without the tea, and just a hint of weak beer aftertaste.

It… was… horrible.

NOT what I was looking for. Killed the whole “Hey, I’m in an Irish pub in Fresno” mood.

To her credit, upon finding that I couldn’t STAND that awful sweet, fluffy, ridiculous excuse for an ale (Don’t call it ale if it’s not going to taste even remotely like some sort of hoppy substance, please) she did bring me, um… I think the name was something like “Smithwick’s”. Whatever it is, it’s pronounced “SMIT-icks”. (You can see lecram’s glass of that very thing in the photo.)

That was QUITE pleasing. Thank you.

I was happy once more, and well able to choke down my unremarkable cheeseburger with havarti.

Oh! And Happy Persian New Year! (Or… Happy Ostara!)