Thursday, September 30, 2004

oh crap... 

I was so excited to see the debate tonight. I set up my VCR, just in case I missed it, but I made sure I was home in time.

I turned off the VCR, turned on the TV and--

Just missed the whole thing.

I thought I had gotten the right time when I looked it up last night, but apparently 9pm PST was incorrect.

Now I'm listening to the post-debate analysis, and what I'm hearing on MSNBC seems to indicate that Kerry had a very strong debate (maybe I should take a look at Fox News), but it still would have been nice to watch it for myself and draw my own conclusions.

Oh well. At least I still have The Daily Show's analysis to look forward to. Jon Stewart being all smart and political and funny -- I just might need a cigarette afterwards.


I can't believe I haven't posted something like this yet! But the marvelous Pamie reminded me via her own entry about the importance of urging others to register to vote.

So, if y'all haven't done so, go do it. Because while it's always super important, voting this year is especially so. If you want a change in administration, that is. If you don't, well, I have a couple of questions for you:

1) Why are you reading my page?

2) What the hell is wrong with you?

(I happen to agree with John - if you're voting for Bush, you're either stupid, ignorant and/or hypocritical.)

Pamie also reminded me about urging your representative to vote "No" on the "Marriage Protection Amendment" (call 202-225-3121 and they will connect you to your representative). I'll be doing so during my lunch hour, I promise you that.

So, yeah. Voting. Good thing to do. You sexy, sexy thing, you. *growl*

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

state of mind... 

Much better mood tonight, for a couple of reasons (where'd that damn sparrow come from?), but a promise is a promise. And since I've been told by one or two people that they are curious about my state of mind - as am I, I assure you - well, here goes:

So. Yesterday's little outburst. Funny story that.

(Okay, not really funny, but hey, some levity might senak its way in. Stranger things have happened.)

Not going to go into details, but here's the deal:

Due to something work related, I called up a friend. We got the work stuff out of the way fairly quickly and ended up chatting for a few minutes, shooting that criminal breeze that always seems to be asking to be shot. In the midst of the chat, my friend imparted to me a bit of information, the specifics of which are - if not immaterial - not entirely pertinent to the rest of the story. Suffice it to say it was information that displeased me mightily, though I didn't let on to that displeasure in the remaining minute of our conversation. It was still sinking in.

Okay, I admit that I had earlier requested that said info be imparted to me should it ever come up, knowing that it would make me unhappy but believing that it was something I needed to know. Well, I was absolutely right. It made me angry and upset and hurt. I thought very mean, petty thoughts. And since my choices were either throw things in the showroom or write something to vent my emotions (no matter how little the entry might be), I chose the path that was least likely to get me fired.

Pragmatic Taurus, that's me.

Normally I would have written this entry while in the throes of my emotions, but between writing group and getting home too late and exhausted to string together words more coherent than, "Bed. Sleep. Get cat off face. Zzzzzzzzz," I chose to wait. As a consequence a calmer, cooler head has prevailed.

(Don't worry, I'll return it to its rightful owner tomorrow.)

So, how do two sentences of unwelcome information tie into my state of mind over the last week or four?

Because it made me think, once again, that I need to seriously work on getting my shit together.

Let's look at a few hard facts in the World of Carol:

No car. Terminally broke. Doesn't work as hard as she should, which could possibly come back to bite her in the ass. Has the discipline and focus of a gnat. Sucks at follow-through. Hates to ask for help, despite the billions of times friends and family tells her it's okay, because she thinks, Hey, got herself into the mess, should be able to get herself out of it. Beats herself up for not being further along in her life. Self-sabotaging. Feels as if nearly every day she is turning into an angrier, pettier, more bitter person than the day before and really hates feeling like that.

This isn't to say that your humble narrarator thinks she is all bad. Oh no, gentle readers. In many ways I do have a rather high opinion of myself. But it is so often at war with the many times that I curse and swear at myself for not being more decisive, more pro-active, more driven. There is such a humungous font of ambition bubbling up inside of me and I do so little to turn that font into a geyser of productive creativity. As each year passes I feel as though I'm sliding further and further down a slope that is slippery and muddy and has a very hard, very sharp bottom. And that it's only by running in place that I avoid falling head over ass all the way down. I rarely felt like this in my twenties. It just seems like it's snowballing in my mid-to-late thirties.

So I look at my disjointed life and my frequently messy surroundings and I think, "This is a girl-- No, a woman. This is a 38 year old woman that patently Does Not Have Her Shit Together." So it's not much wonder why I've been on the single side for so long. Perhaps why LiterateLawyerGuy (remember him?) told me that we ultimately weren't compatible. Or why WriterBoy told me right up front that he wasn't looking for a relationship but I saw him sitting rather cozily with another woman a few months later at a book reading in Westwood. Or why CuteNerdBoy, despite initial indications to the contrary, decided that he doesn't see me as more than a dear friend.

I mean, who would want to get involved with a woman who cannot seem to Get Her Shit Together?

So what does this mean? What do I do? Why don't I do those things which I know I must do to make my life better and brighter and what I want it to be?

Hell if I know.

It goes back to being self-sabotaging, I know that much, but I don't know why I'm like that. Why I spin my wheels in the mud until it seems only a tow truck can haul me out. I start wondering if there is some sort of chemical imbalance in my system that throws my mental processes all out of whack. I know I have a tendency towards mild (and on rare occasions, no-so-mild) depression. Is there something more? Or is my older brother right when he says that, though he knows I have a good heart, I'm too self-involved to look outward?

One thing that I do know: it's time to get myself back to therapy. I haven't been there in a long time because after I was laid off by Lions Gate I didn't have the money and I felt weird asking her to put me on a payment plan (which she totally would have done - it goes back to the "hating to ask for help" thing I've got going). Now that I have a steady job with benefits again, I can go back, even if my insurance will pay only a portion of the bill (my therapist doesn't take insurance, but she's good enough I'm willing to bite the bullet). I feel comfortable with her and I know she's not going to knee-jerk-prescribe medication (though I sometimes wonder if it might help, I hate the thought of feeling numb to life).

My SisterCompany counterpart has a holistic chiropractor that she adores, so I might give him a try. It might be nice to go through life again without the low-level neck ache that accompanies every day, which could help my outlook a bit more.

I'll just keep writing and interacting with positive people, because both are such wonderful confidence boosters. I feel like I should be able to boost my own confidence (you know, that whole "no one can make me truly happy but me" kinda stuff), but until I can, well, I'll just do the best that I can.

And sooner than later My Shit Will Be Mostly Together.

(And someone will do something about that damned European sparrow...)

Tuesday, September 28, 2004


I have to remember - blogging is like driving: it should never be done while drunk, angry or upset. Or while naked and wearing face paint.

Actual details probably won't follow later (involves other people, yada yada yada), but I may post a little something more about my state of mind later on. Depending on how late it is when I get back from the writing group meeting and if I don't fall asleep almost immediately upon reaching my domicile.

Thing is, what's going on in my head ties in perfectly with an entry I've mulling over for the last week or so. Funny how that happens.

Not funny haha, mind you, but still funny.



Not in the mood to post details, but suffice to say, not too pleased about a few things right now.

Two lessons I've learned, though I thought I knew these things already:

1) Be careful what you ask for. Not wish. Ask.

2) People can be such fucking idiots sometimes. Even bright people.

rushing to fill the void... 

Back in May, when Angel shuffled off the television coil, I was bereft. No more Whedon TV. Though I hadn't been part of the Cult of Whedon for as long as many of its members, I was still a card-carrying Whedon Slave.

But that was not the only reason I felt lost. For I wondered, "What show will I tape now?"

There have only been a few shows that I tape and keep forever and ever: Buffy; M*A*S*H; Sherlock Holmes; Max Headroom; Doctor,Doctor; Psi Factor (I'm sensing a bit of a theme in those last three...). But since I generally never know when I'm going to be home and I really don't like to force myself to stay at home just to watch a show, no matter how much I like it, I just tape the other shows I like, then record over them after I've watched them.

Amazing how much money I've save by not buying new tapes.

Anyway, at the time Angel finished up, there was only one show that I watched with any regularity and that was The Dead Zone (which, oddly enough, is produced and distributed by my old company), and that was always hard to find - half the time I didn't know the new season had started.

Now? Now I'm taping more shows than I ever have: The Dead Zone; The Daily Show; The Graham Norton Effect; Rescue Me; Nip/Tuck. None of them are forever keepers (well, The Daily Show would be, but that would take more tapes than even I'm willing to buy - and I have almost the entire 11 year run of M*A*S*H on tape), but I am enjoying them immensely. Especially Nip/Tuck, and not just because of the very pretty Julian McMahon (I usually don't go for actors that pretty [except for Hugh Jackman, of course], but I have to say, he is many kinds of yummy - enough so that I was actually watching the horrendous Charmed for a little while there). It's an interesting night-time soap opera where acting is good, the style is stunning and the characters are constantly changing in interesting ways.

No more new shows, please. Not even CSI:NY, which I'm tempted to check out because of the ever-so-fabulous Gary Sinise (Fametracker's Fame Audit is so right). I just don't have the time.

Unless Joss Whedon comes back. Then we'll talk...

Monday, September 27, 2004

are you nuts?! 

There are some things in this life which are too horrific to contemplate, even though they are part and parcel of the world in which we live. War. Famine. Four more years of Dubya. The Swan. Carrot Top.

Counted amongst such horrors for our time are certain foodstuffs that grace our supermarket shelving, products which may puzzle us as to their presence, causing us to wonder, "What sick person would eat pickled pork rinds?"

That person - in the name of science and goofy websites - is Steve. Cry, "Steve, Don't Eat It!" if you must, but remember: he's drinking breast milk so you don't have to.

(Link taken from - where else? - Chuck)

good to know... 

Audra posts an entry with pills that can be used as an emergency morning-after contrceptive. It's always a good thing to know, even for women like me who are currently not on birth control (my system is so badly thrown off by those things that I only like to take them if I'm having sex on a regular basis, which is certainly not the case these days).

If ya don't feel like clicking, here's the list:

Posted by Hello

Directions: Take two doses, twelve hours apart, with the amount of pills listed in the column on the right.

it just gets better... 

Campaigns want debate moderators to sign statement

The upcoming presidential debates are going to be crucial to the outcome of this election. Isn't it nice that people from both candidates' campaigns are requiring that the moderators to sign statements that have not been required in past election years?

And isn't it just thoughtful that the debate rules require that all audience members submit questions in advance for pre-selection, to be cut off should they decide to change the question when it's time to ask away? Makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside to know that the free exchange of ideas - one of the principles upon which this country was founded, as I recall - is being sacrificed for the sake of "expediency", as Bush-Cheney '04 Campaign Chairman Gov. Marc Racicot termed it when he appeared on The Daily Show last week.

(An aside - my favorite bit of that interview:

Racicot: This campaign is so focused on being positive-

My secret boyfriend Jon Stewart: What!? Have you been skipping the meetings?


(Though let's be honest - the squelching of the free exchange of ideas is usually desired by those high up on the election ladder.)

I'm both eager and apprehensive to see Thursday's Presidential Debate. Though how sad is it that I'm looking forward to The Daily Show's coverage more than the debate itself?

sometimes not so easy... 

Back in July, when I participated in BabySis' wedding, I had a marvelous, grand ol' time, as did pretty much everyone else. Laughing and dancing and near-weeping for joy. True, I'd had a drink or five over the course of the entire day, what with the mimosas while the bridal party was getting ready and my trusty gin-and-tonics and dirty martinis during the reception. But I know that, had I remained utterly sober, I still would have had a fantastic time. And I'd hoped that her wedding was the one to break my tendency of being slightly uncomfortable and wistful when attending these joyous events solo.

Such is not the case.

(Then again, BestFriend was sort of my date for the evening, so maybe I wasn't solo after all.)

First thing's first: ValleyGirlRep's wedding was lovely and moving, with smiles all around, set in a gorgeous botanical garden in Somis. And the reception was quite good, too, even if those of us at my table were wishing for a hook to snake out of the trees and yank the best man away from the microphone as he entered his forty-seventh hour of his stand-up, er, I mean, toast. And ValleyGirlRep was beautiful and radiant. The minute and a half that I spoke to her new hubby showed me that he was a good guy.

I did have a couple of drinks, which were nicely made, but I wasn't in the mood to throw caution to the wind. Perhaps because my regional VP was also at the table with her husband. The fact that he is good friends with the CEO of my former workplace is actually a bit amusing and served to prove the theory we had put forth during our initial conversation: despite its size, Los Angeles is a tiny little town. Especially if one is involved with entertainment in any form.

Though I had been assured by NewYorkWriter that RegionalVP (with whom I am having lunch on Wednesday - uh oh) would not be at all judgemental had I decided to completely cut loose, I still felt that it would probably not be a good idea. I tend to be very cautious like that.

I still had a nice time, and I danced with NewYorkWriter and laughed and caused others to laugh (and bonded with RegionalVP over baseball - she agreed with me that the SF Giants must ALWAYS lose, especially when playing against the Dodgers), but I was feeling low-key and I didn't know how to stop myself from feeling like that, to just shut up my head and enjoy the evening.

The images that came unbidden to my mind while witnessing the ceremony, visions of events that will most likely not happen - at least not with the participants that I envisioned - certainly didn't help matters. Nor did watching ValleyGirlRep dancing with her father and realizing that, should I someday marry, that I will never have that dance. It's amazing how ingrained that dance is in little girls who love their daddies, even when the little girls are all grown up and the daddies have proven themselves unworthy of that dance.

This next Sunday is another wedding - BestFriendSister, whom I've known since she was a twelve year old in plastic barettes and is now a lovely young woman in her mid-thrities - and I think I'll fare better there, as I'll know most of the people and my VP won't be sitting nearby.

But my knowledge of fellow guests shouldn't be the deciding factor about whether I have a nice time or a great time. Somehow I need to travel out of my head and just enjoy and rejoice for the people in whose honor the guests have been gathered. And shove away those unbidden visions, instead of finding a strange comfort in them, which will only make me unhappier.

And maybe this time actively seek out someone with whom I can flirt unmercifully...

Sunday, September 26, 2004

fun for all! 

Okay, maybe only a few. Because I can accomodate only six. Six people. Six lucky souls.

"Um, Carol? What the hell are you talking about?" you may ask. As well you should. But I'll thank you not to swear in my blog, because it's not nice. And only I have that right. What with it being my blog and all.

"Carol," you whisper to me, softly, slowly, your gentle breath tickling the whorls of my outer ear as your voice takes on a patient tone, as if I were a six year old child with the attention span of a gnat, "haven't we talked about posting so late at night? It's never a good idea. You either get maudlin or stup-"

Don't call me stupid!


Anyway, I have been gifted with six invites from the generous people at Gmail. Because they love me and want me to spread the Word of Gmail. Or something like that. See, I received my account from the lovely Chuck, so I am merely continuing his good works.

If'n ya don't already have a Gmail account and would like one - with its splendiferously gorgeous 1000 MB of space - tell me how much you love me, what you would do for an account and pay worship to the goddess that I am.

Or, you know, just ask nicely.

The first six acolytes, er, I mean, lucky readers, to do so via comments or e-mail (funfair at gmail dot com) will take home a bright, shiny new Gmail invitation, to do with as they please.

And if you're really nice, I may even speak Italian for you.

Pasta primavera, parmesan reggiano...

Saturday, September 25, 2004

lovely day... 

It's absolutely beautiful outside. I need to get off my ass and get moving, enjoy the Vitamin D as I walk to the bank and do laundry in preparation of today's wedding.

In a few hours NewYorkWriter, her hubby and I will be wending our way north, to Somis, to attend the wedding of one of my sales reps. She's a fun, vibrant person with whom I connected almost instantly when I started my current job. Then again, she is a Leo and I've always gotten along great with Leos. And she a fellow Valley Girl (though she was raised in Camarillo), so there's that.

As such, I am very happy and honored to have been invited to witness such a lovely event. And to get the chance to meet her fiancee, of whom I have heard much. Plus she's told me that there's an open bar at the reception, so that's of the good.

Of course, NewYorkWriter and ValleyGirlRep, being privy to the some of the CuteNerdBoy drama (he fixed ValleyGirlRep's laptop and, not knowing anything about him besides our friendship, her first words to me after meeting him were, "Why aren't you dating?" Um, yeah. Exactly what a girl wants to hear when she's trying to put a little distance between herself and a situation. I gave her a few bullet points and left it at that - wait, I was going somewhere before this unwieldy parenthetical aside - oh yeah), both are hoping that there will be some cute eligible bachelor there today that will be smitten with my beauty, smoldering sensuality and sharp wit, to help take my mind off the boy and perhaps whisk me away to his castle, which will most likely be north, in Santa Barbara.

Me? I'm looking forward to the free booze. And maybe just someone to flirt with.

But mainly I'm looking forward to sharing in the love and the happiness of a wonderful woman and her no doubt wonderful soon-to-be-hubby.

Ain't it great I get to do it all again next weekend for BestFriendSister's wedding? Whee!

Friday, September 24, 2004

could it be true? 

Chest challenged chicks ring in bigger breasts.

I don't need bigger breasts, but Cheech and Chong (sorry, Chris, I mean Ginger and Mary-Ann) have lost a bit of their former fullness due to my thirty-five pound weight loss over the last couple of years. I wonder if the ring tones can help with that...

(Link sent by a friend.)

new journal links... 

I love the internet.

I love the people on the internet.

I love the people on the internet that have interesting things to say.

I love the people on the internet that have interesting things to say and pay me lovely compliments and/or link to me.

Which is why I love these journals and will add them to the sidebar when I have a little more time:

Evaporation - Steve's not new to me (he's on the old Journals I Read, all of which will be placed in the sidebar), but he is a new link for this blog. I've been reading his fun and moving writing and looking at his pretty photos since I first stumbled upon Chuck's Mojave Phone Booth site back in '99.

treppenwitz - David is a fine writer who leads a fascinating life both familiar and strange to this life-long suburban gal.

The Meat of the Matter - Jim writes of politics and philosophical underpinnings and cabbages and and kings (okay, maybe not the cabbages so much) and writes of them well. So much so that I'm over-looking the references to dead animal carcass. (Insert winking smileycon here.)

Y'all need to check out these fellas, 'cause this girl's gone and fallen in smit with them. *sigh*

Thursday, September 23, 2004

anywhere but here... 

This is one of those days when I just don't want to be at work.

(Yes, I can hear you asking, "And that's different from other days...how?")

It's not that I don't want to be at CommercialFurnitureCompany specifically, I just want to be elsewhere. Preferably sitting under a tree with book in hand, fruit-infused water resting beside me and music filling the air, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin and the gentle kiss of the breeze in my hair.

As I've mentioned before, I have an ever-growing stack of over 30 books waiting to be read. I think about those, and all the books on my mental list - The DaVinci Code, Lovely Bones, Lord of the Flies, Just a Geek, Dancing Barefoot, Fever Pitch and so, so many others I can't bring to mind right now - that I actually start panicking. Sometimes my brain will whirl, my heart will skip a beat or three and my breath will catch in my throat.

I know those books will always be there for me to read when I get around to it, but I'm also always coming across new (to me) books that sound interesting and adding those to the list. I'm afraid I'll never get to read every book I want and I'll miss out on something extraordinary, so if I stop working and spend all my waking hours reading, I'll get that much closer to my goal.

If only that damned pesky eating and keeping a roof over my head and taking care of my cats and, well, living didn't get in the damned way...

Wednesday, September 22, 2004


Your Boobies' Names Are: Cheech and Chong
Get your own Boobie Names

They have been getting a serious case of the munchies of late. And they can't concentrate on tasks or remember anything. Explains so much, really...

i have an illness... 

It's serious and I don't think there's anything I can do about it. I often feel this urge, this deeply ingrained belief that if there isn't something new up here whenever my regular readers stop by, then I'm letting them down. Never mind that I don't know who visits when or how often. I have a counter, but that doesn't necessarily tell me such things.

So because I felt the need to put something up, I am currently doing so. Even though it's really about nothing at all. Because I am a sick little girl. But I'm sick because I love my readers thiiiiiiiisss much!

But I will say that I've just started reading Speaking With the Angel, which is a collection of short stories edited by Nick Hornby (my newest favorite author) and I'm liking it so far. Included in the stories is one by the ever so lovely Colin Firth, which I've not yet read, but I am definitely curious about. Oh, I hope he writes as well as he acts!

Yeah, that's it. Nothing more. Nothing to see here, people, keep moving along...

nebraska update... 

I know it's been over a month, but I've updated The Life and Times of Nebraska.

Last week was the first writing group meeting in over a month, which is why there had been no further Nebraska updates. Because, you see, the story is only updated on writing group nights.

I hope you enjoy it!


So today I was supposed to see a podiatrist about my ankles. And I left work at 1:30pm to do so. One of his offices is located in Burbank, which isn't too far from where I live, but is over an hour bus ride from work. Not a big deal, I thought. At least it wasn't until my first bus ended up arriving at my second bus stop over ten minutes late and I had to wait an additional ten minutes for the next bus, which then let me off where the MTA site had told me to disembark.

Too bad that:

1) There was no doctor's office on that corner
2) I forgot to bring the doctor's phone number
3) My cell phone is completely dead (as in I have to find the receipt to exchange it because I've had it less than a year and it shouldn't be so very dead)
4) The corner at which I was standing had no payphones, which required me to walk a quarter of a mile to the next payphone
5) Which demanded $.75 to dial 411
6) Which I didn't have on me
7) I can't use my pre-paid calling card to call 411
8) I completely forgot about (Area Code) 555-1212 for directory assistance - at that point I was too tired and hot and frustrated to remember.

I was already horribly late to the appointment by that point, so I opted to go pay my gas bill and head home so that I could meet Sarriah for the writing group.

(I'll call them tomorrow to explain. I'll reschedule, but this time I think at his Century City office - I'm thinking that'll be less than an hour's bus ride from work.)

(BTW, we're down to from six people to three, with a semi-regular scheduled to appear next week. I'm actually rather sad about the size reduction - though I know we'll all continue to keep in touch, I feel as if I've lost a part of myself.)

And now my legs are more sore than they've been since I started having ankle problems. Actually my whole body is kinda achy, but that may have something to do with the fact that I've had a total of seven hours of sleep over the last two nights. I seem to be going through one of my "Not gonna go to sleep, don't wanna, don't wanna, DON'T WANNA!!!" phases. It's not the first time and it probably won't be the last.

But seeing as it's nearly 12:30am, maybe I'd better take myself to bed. Six hours sleep in one night? How luxurious!

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

no reason for existing... 

...except to assuage the teeny tiny...egos of men (and women) who probably could use a good dose of therapy over the monstrosity that is the CXT.

Having stoked a violent hatred of Hummers (it's all I can do not to froth at the mouth when I see them trundle down the street), one can imagine I'm none to pleased about the latest entry into the I'm-better-than-everyone-else-and-here's-my-outrageously-large-vehicle-to-prove-it-and-no-my-dick-isn't-the-size-of-a-grain-of-sand class of trucks.

I hope the trends start going the other way. And fast. Otherwise those of us with an ounce of caring about our environment, the condition of the roads and the safety of our fellow drivers will soon be killed by the plethora of idiots who drive humungous cars with no idea of how to properly pilot them.

Or maybe cops in California need to start enforcing the vehicle weight limit laws.

Hey, there's an idea.

musical interlude... 

Sometimes I wish that I was an angel
A fallen angel who visits your dreams
And in those dreams I'd blow you a message that says
You really want me

Sometimes I wish that I was a wrestler
A Mexican wrestler in a red vinyl mask
And I might grab you, body slam you, and maybe cause
physical harm
But when we would land
I might take pity on you
I can crack all your ribs
But I can't break your heart

You will never love me
And this I can't forgive
That you will never love me
As long as I will live

Sometimes I wish that I was a beauty
A beautiful girl who was still 21
And I'd turn your head as well as your buddies
And I could afford to play hard to get
We'd go to parties and you'd show me off
And I'd go home with someone else

You will never love me
And this I can't forgive
And it will always bug me
As long as I will live
You will never love me
Why should I even care
It's not that you're so special
You're just the cross I bear

You will never love me
Mexican Wrestler by Jill Sobule (from I Never Learned to Swim)

The first time I heard this song I was walking down Sunset Boulevard, enjoying the February sun warming on my skin, the music playing in my ears. Initially I found the lyrics somewhat whimsical. Until Ms. Sobule sang the chorus.

At that point I nearly felt the wind knocked from me, my knees threatening to buckle. Had I not been walking down a very public street, I have no doubt I would have allowed myself to sink to the ground.

Yeah, this song hits me on several levels, one of which is probably obvious. Maybe I identify with music far too much.


Monday, September 20, 2004

fug as fashion... 

I've been reading these gals since the day the fug began, but for those of you who love to judge celebrity fashion and haven't been there yet, go over to Go Fug Yourself. Sometimes I disagree with their comments, but then they'll post a Britney Spears photo and I realize what a service Heather and Jessica are preforming. Personally, I don't feel a day is complete until I want to scrub out my eyes with lye and a wire brush after seeing some of these outfits. I hope you feel the same.

not so unbelievable... 

...which is very unfortunate. Good ol' Louisiana, raising the bar for keeping those uppity gay folks in their place.

Is it any wonder I don't want to move back to the South?

(Link found at Chuck's blog.)

Saturday, September 18, 2004

see what happens... 

...when you completely guess at over half the answers?

61.904761904761905% of me is a huge nerd! How about you?

I actually knew a few of them (everything Star Trek related, for example), but the majority of the questions were completely Ilkorin to me.

Friday, September 17, 2004


...TribeBoy never contacted me to confirm tonight. Since the last communication was him saying, "maybe Friday will work," I assumed he would let me know yea or nay.

Yep, he is officially a Loser.

Though I just received message from another Tribe.net fella expressing interest. The (non-existent) plot thickens...

scathing yet fun... 

...my favorite kind of political satire. Such satire can be found at Betty Bowers: America's Best Christian. Yes, there is also quite a bit of religious satire as well.

Ms. Bowers also has some fine buttons for sale. Definitely worth a look.


What Makes You Sexy?
by eva71
Sexy Body Part IsYour Boobs
Special Talents AreStalking Your Prey
Quiz created with MemeGen!

It's as if they know me...

good idea... 

I know I haven't really written anything personal lately, but that's because I'd been living a sort of low-level life recently. Nothing much happening, bored with the same thoughts and feelings that I can never quite seem to banish. But I will say that this whole "taking a break" thing with CuteNerdBoy is an even better idea than I originally thought.

Tuesday was BookCrossing again, and I e-mailed him (first contact in about a month) to let him know I wouldn't be making it and also to arrange mailing a book to him via UPS to give to one of the other BookCrossers (y'all may recall that the last time we tried sending things via UPS, things didn't go so well). Some hours later, when I saw his name in my Inbox, I got all nervous and jittery.

(Only two names in my Inbox ever make me feel that way and the other is a dear friend that used to be a boyfriend many moons ago, but with whom I will always have a strong, rather unusual chemistry. And since neither of us wants to go back to our boyfriend/girlfriend relationship - not to mention the fact he's married - I know it's not because I'm longing to go back to the way we used to be. We're both pretty happy with our current relationship.)

But, yeah, CuteNerdBoy's name in my Inbox brought back all the emotions I was feeling before, emotions that I thought I was starting to get a handle on. And at that moment I was glad I'd decided not to attend the BookCrossing meeting after all, though both he and the other BookCrosser for whom I wished to send the book (who will be referred to as SciFiFriend) expressed that I would be missed.

(Another aside: last month neither CuteNerdBoy or I went to the meeting - it turned out that SciFiFriend didn't make it either. The only person there? Was the BookCrosser I don't like. I know it's very petty of me, and I don't like to be petty, but I smiled a little bit when I read that in SciFiFriend's e-mail.)

CuteNerdBoy asked if, in light of our break, did I still want him to go up to San Francisco for the half-marathon? I told him that, as things stand, my participation in the half-marathon is looking iffy, what with the ankle problems and being dropped from the training program because I didn't raise enough money, which means if I want to go I have to pay for everything myself. But since I still want to do the marathon, I'm going to try to give it a go (please, though, donate still - I'd like to be able to raise some money if possible) and yes, I would still like him there for support. He's really the only person who has said he'd travel up there to cheer me on and I would really like at least one friendly face in the crowd. It would really mean a lot to me.

Upshot: still emotional, still crazy about the boy, still need distance, though it is so very hard. So the break? Very much needed. I just hope (aside from the marathon) it doesn't last for untold months. Because you know what's most difficult? Seeing all the great events that I know he would probably like to check out and not being able to e-mail him to say, "Hey, wanna go?"

It's weird how much less social my life has been since the break has started. Huh.

Though it is starting to heat up again. I don't know what it is, but once again I seem to be putting some strange energy out into the universe. Because I can't quite make out any kind of commonality of the people who have recently expressed some sort of attraction to me.

1) StaplesDeliveryBoy - it started a couple of weeks ago. He showed up to deliver supplies just as I was leaving for lunch and he started joking with me about me taking him to lunch. I told him, "Sorry, I don't have the funds," whereupon he said he'd take me to lunch when he had a day off. At first I thought he was joking, so I responded with, "Sure, that'd be great!" Later I realized that he probably wasn't joking. That was confirmed when showed up twice just to chat with me when he happened to have a delivery in my building and reiterated his promise to take me to lunch. Too bad he seems much younger than me and that I don't find him attractive. *shrug*

2) TribeBoy - recently I signed up with Tribe.Net because it looked interesting and GruvLoungeGoth is a member and has been asked to submit restaurant reviews. So the other day I received an e-mail from a guy with an interesting profile. I responded, he wanted to get together that night. I demurred, as I had a writing group meeting, but mentioned Wednesday might be good. Tuesday night I told Sarriah about it, and when I told her his name she mentioned she had gotten something through Friendster from someone with that name. Different type of e-mail, but definitely the same guy.

Well, I decided to postpone the date until Friday because I wanted to have the option of paying for myself if I felt like it. TribeBoy was a bit pushy at first, but got the hint that it wasn't going to happen Wednesday night. And then Sarriah forwarded me another e-mail from him she received that day that was identical to the one he sent me through Tribe. Yeah. Nevermind the fact that, if he had actually looked at her profile, he would have seen that I was listed as one of her friends on Friendster.

So part of me still wants to go on the date, for several reasons: A) to see how smooth he tries to be, B) to get a little dating practice and C) maybe to let him know that he made some HUGE mistakes. And part of me doesn't want to waste the time. It will be an interesting day, I have no doubt.

3) SarriahNeighbor - last week I went to a going away party for MidWestRoommate. She's moved to Phoenix to be with her boyfriend. So the evening was winding down, Sarriah was outside talking to her neighbor and, though I had changed into my night clothes (I crashed over that night) of oversized men's shirt and shorts (almost the exact same outfit I wore the last time I saw CuteNerdBoy), I decided to join them. So I was sitting, chatting with both of them, but mostly SarriahNeightbor. Sarriah started falling asleep, so she went inside and I continued chatting with the neighbor, who at one point invited me in to listen to a remixed song. I accepted, we went inside the other apartment and listened to the song. I had received some mighty interesting vibes from the neighbor and I suspected moves would be made when the roommate came home with someone in tow, someone that didn't look pleased with my presence and instead headed straight to the back of the apartment. I introduced myself to the roommate so that she knew, Hey, I'm just there for MidWestRoommate's party. And SarriahNeighbor and I went back outside. We chatted for a little while longer and parted ways, her phone number in my hand because I promised to give it to OBGirlfriendSon for business.

Um, yes. I did say, her phone number. See, SarriahNeighbor is a lesbian and was giving me signals I have only ever gotten from men before. It was strange, something I was definitely unused to. But strangely enough, out of the three folks above, her vibes were the only ones I would have actively welcomed.

Surprised? I'm not. I've always been a wee bit bi-curious, and while I know my preference will always be men, a never before had opportunity to give the other side of the fence a try would have been a welcome one. Kinda a shame that her roommate and the other woman came home when they did. *shrug* Oh well, I'm not going to beat myself up about it. If it happens, it happens, if it doesn't, it doesn't.

Yeah, I don't see any common denominator up there. Life's getting a little strange again and I don't know how I feel about it.


Thursday, September 16, 2004

what the hell... 

...I'll give it a try. I hear from reliable resources that it's totally on the up-and-up, because I'm definitely not one to sign up for this sort of stuff all the time. But that iPod of CuteNerdBoy's was so fun to play with on the camping trip that I'd love one of my own.

So if y'all could click here to help me get a free iPod, I would be ever so grateful. Maybe you can get one of your own, too.!

Music, whee!

(FYI, I'm starting to feel more human and less like a bundle of shredded nerves, so please put away your guns. Wait! No! I'm feeling better, really! Please don't shoot me!)

they shoot carols, don't they? 

I sure hope so, because I could do with a good shooting about now.

Bad headache, queasy stomach, neck and upper back totally tweaked (as they have been all week from sleeping badly Monday night). If someone can tell me why the hell I came into work today (albeit four hours late), I would be most appreciative. I mean, sure my manager is on vacation (in beautiful Ivan-stricken Florida - I think she may have finally evacuated), which means that I'm getting calls from her clients, which makes this week very busy. But maybe I should've stayed home.

I'm waiting for the pain-killers to kick in, but I'm starting to have my doubts.

Put me out of my misery. Please?!

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

my, what a big quiz you have! 

Sounds good, except I don't think normal people are stupid. Well, not most of them...

What Kind of Geek are You?
Favourite Color
Your IQ is quite high
You are a word nerd
Your strength is you actually have social skills
Your weakness is electrons
You think normal people are stupid
Normal people think that you are weird
This fun quiz by owlsamantha - Taken 93025 Times.

Mais oui!

piggy jpeg
You are Miss Piggy.
You are talented and the center of attention. At
least you'd like to think you are. You're
really just a pig.

"Moi", "Moi" and
"Women Who Run With Frogs And The Frogs Who
Better Wise Up Quick"

"To Have and Have More"

If it's expensive, it fits.

Eyes, eyebrows, eyelashes, nose, cheeks, hair,
ears, neck, shoulders, arms, elbows, hands,
fingers, legs, knees, ankles, feet, toes and so
on and so forth.

Singing, Dancing, Directing, Producing, Writing,
Starring, and Being Famous.
What Muppet are you? brought to you by Quizilla


Not a quiz, but an interesting page: Fluff the Plush Cthulhu had a feast of science fiction writer and fan brains at Worldcon in Boston. I have to say, some mighty tasty brains on display in those photos. Mmmm, Neil Gaiman...

Tuesday, September 14, 2004


What the fuck is wrong with Florida? I mean, bully for the state's election chief for allowing Nader's name to be put on the Florida ballot, but the fact that there was even an temporary injunction to prevent Nader from appearing on the ballot is mind boggling.

Except not so much, what with Brother Jeb as the governor of that fair state. Not that I'm being cynical or anything...

Though I've mentioned before that I'd vote for Nader were circumstances different, I'd be happy if people didn't vote for him his time around, especially in key swing states. It's that whole "Get Bush the fuck out of office!" thing I've got going these days. But to deny even the opportunity for the American voters to vote for whomever they please, even if it's Uncle Cletus of the Neo-Nazi Party, is wrong, especially if Uncle Cletus has done everything he's supposed to do to enable his name to be placed on the ballot according to the laws and rules of the state is undeniably wrong.

Yeah, I know. The basis for the injunction was that the Reform Party may not qualify as a national party according to Floridian law and the injunction was based on a challenge by the Democratic Party, no doubt in response to everything that happened in 2000. But if the Reform Party was good enough to appear on the ballot in 2000, it should be good enough to appear on the ballot in 2004, barring changes to the law (which, from what I can tell, hasn't happened).

If there is another election fuck-up in Florida this year, heads are going to have to roll. Because things already look mighty suspicious as it is.

(Story found at Chuck's site.)


I didn't write a September 11 memorial this year, not because I'd forgotten, but because I just have nothing further to write about it that I haven't written before. But I didn't forget about it. Like everyone else, I can never forget.

Other memorials:

Monday, September 13, 2004

there is no justice... 

The haves continue to get and the have-nots (like your humble narrarator) just have to do without.

I don't care what anyone says, Matt Damon and Barbara Walters don't deserve that kind of luck. Okay, so I wasn't in the audience of The Boy from Oz. That's no reason why I shouldn't get a lapdance from Hugh Jackman.

I'm just sayin'...

Friday, September 10, 2004

(may not be entirely work-safe) 

If you have read this humble site for any length of time (and bless you if you have), you may have come to the entirely correct conclusion that I'm a bit of a fan of sex. Granted, I may not participate as often as I like because, well, a gal's gotta have standards. I happen to be rather picky about my partners and I'm getting pickier as the days pass. Still, making the beast with two backs? I give it a big ol' thumbs up (or down or sideways or where-ever else it may be needed. What can I say? I'm just a giver.)

So I've had my fair share of sex over the years. I also enjoy a good piece of erotica. Or even *gasp* honest-to-goodness porn. As a result I'm somewhat familiar with much of the lexicon used in such bits of, ahem, art (have you ever tried to write good erotica? It's damned hard. Those who can do it well are true artists. Check out the stuff at Clean Sheets if ya wanna see what I mean. Anyway, back to the point...), even terminology that is laughable anywhere except porn or the bedroom (though it can be quite funny there. I mean, "Ooh, baby, ready for my hot beef injection?" The break? You must give it to me.)

Problem is, there has been a dearth of vocabulary and phrases to describe much of the most common sexual experiences.

Until now.

Hoot Island's Eroticionary has coined desparately needed and long-awaited words and phraseology for acts, items, body parts and events that are more common than most of us would like. A few examples:

condammit (KAHN-dah-mit) n. The specially-designed condom wrapper foil that cannot be opened under non-laboratory circumstances without some sort of cutting torch, guaranteed to be virtually impervious against anything you might scare up in the backseat of your Honda.

thigh-Q (thiy-CYOO) n. The temporary intelligence quotient caused by the thought of imminent sex, usually about 30 points below the normal level and dropping fast, especially if bare breasts are visible.

rejatori (REE-ja-TOR-ee) n. (rare) The happy realization that although you've just climaxed, you're ready to go again immediately.

ejacduration (ee-JAHK-dur-AY-shun) n. The elapsed time between the perception of semen as a fiery, sensuous, pumping flood of animalistic lava and the perception of semen as a cold, sticky, runny, disgusting goddamn nuisance, usually about forty-five seconds (your time may vary).
womb raider (WOOM RAY-dur) n. An adventurous penis, with a kick-ass soundtrack.
I will remain silent as which of the above - or anything that might be in the Eroticionary - might currently or ever have applied to me. Though I can assure you that I have never possessed a womb raider. Well, maybe for not more than 30 to 180 minutes at a stretch.

*clears throat, whistles innocently*


Hoot Island also provides a very important list - Not To Be Taken Internally (or Things Not To Insert Into Your Lover's Hoo-Ha):
An alarm clock with an active alarm, because it's really fucking annoying when it goes off and you can't do anything about it and you start throwing yourself down on things trying to hit the snooze button and the other people in the jury won't stop staring at you.
Yeah, I hate when that happens...

Thursday, September 09, 2004

i need to find out... 

...if I have somehow made my cats beneficiaries of my life insurance. They seem pretty determined to trip me as I'm feeding them. Since I can barely function first thing in the morning - which is when I feed them - I'm amazed I haven't yet fallen and hit my head on something and just died, because they are constantly underfoot until the last of the water has been poured.

Edison is especially guilty of this, so I can only assume, during a hypnotic trance they must have put me under at some point, that he's the instigator of said change to life insurance and he gets the largest piece of the pie. Maybe he's not as sweet and innocent as he appears.

So if y'all hear something in the news about "Crazy California Cat Lady Dies from Fall in Home; Leaves Money to Cats", let the cops know that it wasn't my idea and that my cats did it.

I mean, I love them and all, but I'm also all about the justice.

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

i find myself puzzled... 

There is definitely something wrong with my ankles. I've worn athletic shoes or flats over the last week, with only a few twinges and no swelling. Today I'm wearing heels again. They are comfortable shoes, with only 2 1/2" heels (not high at all for me) and I've not done much walking today - less than usual, actually. But my ankles have swollen up again, especially the left one, and I am at a loss.

I've talked with a new doctor, as my previous one, while fine, is completely inconvenient for me since his office isn't close to either my home or work. He comes highly recommended from SisterCompanyAdministrator, so I think I'll be okay there, but I'm currently on the cancellation list, since it generally takes four weeks for them to see new patients.

My fingers, they are crossed.

Sarriah did remind me about the existence of urgent care clinics, so I may very well go to one of those by the end of the week. Because these Elephant Man ankles are completely unacceptable.

So it will be flats and athletic shoes for me for the foreseeable future. *sigh* I'm going to miss my pretty, pretty heels!

where in the world... 

...should Carol live?

According to FindYourSpot.com, my best spot to live is...

Portland, OR!

(Which will make Sarriah laugh, I have no doubt.)

Rounding out the top five contenders are: Hartford, CT; Baltimore, MD; New Haven, CT and Providence, RI (where I did actually live in the very early 70 - that's where my family's apartment was robbed and my father was mugged - don't think I'll go back to live there).

Most of the other cities look like possibilities, but Little Rock, AR? Charleston, WV? I don't think so. And while San Francisco ranks in at #23 (yea!), dear ol' L.A. is nowhere to be found! Since I actually like L.A., I'm a little sad.

I guess I'm a medium-sized city girl at heart after all.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

1,001 and counting... 

Toll in Iraq War A Grim Milestone

One could ask the UnPresident and his cronies if their macho posturing is worth the deaths of so many, but one would know such a question would fall on deaf, power hungry ears. The majority of those deaths occurred after Bush declared "Mission Accomplished" over a year ago.

Rumsfield has said that "the 'civilized world' long ago passed the number of 1,000 victims of terrorism." That number was reached before 9/11/01. It has mounted steadily since. It will continue to mount, in spite - or in some cases, because - of the efforts of the service people stationed in Iraq.

Don't take that as laying blame upon the members of our armed forces. In most cases they are doing their jobs as best they can and I salute them for that. But the fact of the matter is: as long as extremists of any stripe exist, so will terrorism. Guess what? Extremists will always exist.

I'm not saying that we should never fight against terrorism. Nor do I claim to have any solutions. But the Iraq war was ill-conceived from the very beginning. It has become a quagmire of the first water, based on reams of lies and misinformation. We are sinking deeper every day. And our brave men and women, as well as those from other countries, are the people at the bottom of the quagmire that Bush and Friends are standing on to keep their heads above the muck.

As an aside, anyone hear from Osama bin Laden? You know, the guy actually responsible for the heinous act of terrorism on our own shores? Does Bush even remember he exists?

I thought not.

Saturday, September 04, 2004

quite a corner... 

...I've painted myself into. Actually, I've written myself into it, and I'm wondering what to do about it.

Durning my lunch hour yesterday I stopped at the West Hollywood Library, which is not far from my place of business. I originally just wanted to see if I had returned Red Dragon, because I couldn't find it at home and I wanted to turn it in, along with Family Pictures.

(By the way, I love Sue Miller's work and I recently realized why: her writing reminds me of John Irving's, whose books I've fallen in love with. Not so much the surreal, yet strangely believable situations, or the gentle humor. She's a bit more earnest. But her use of language and her talent for describing the many kinds of family dynamics is favorably reminiscent of Irving. I strongly recommend her books.)

Well, I hadn't, but while there I thought I'd take a look at the stacks. Because heaven knows the piles 30-odd books sitting on my computer and dining tables (and which seems to grow every bloody week - damn those boxes of free books - this week alone I've acquired books by John Updike, Isaac Asimov, Ed McBain, Arthur C. Clarke and Piers Paul Read - all authors I already like or have thought might be interesting - but I digress) just aren't enough.

I remembered enjoying Nick Hornby's Songbook and, with my recent musical mood, it seem natural that I should gravitate towards his work, even though I am in currently reading Hocus Pocus by Kurt Vonnegut (a good book thus far, though I'm barely into it, but not an easy read). So I look at his books and decide to go with, unsuprisingly, High Fidelity. After all, music is a huge part of it, it's been recommended by practically everyone I know and I enjoy the movie.

(Question: is there a straight woman alive that belongs to my generation that doesn't have even the teeniest crush on John Cusack? Mmm hmm. I thought not.)

So. I picked up the book and started reading as I walked down the street to get food. I read it in line. I didn't read it on the way back to work because my hands were full, but I did read it at the bus stops and on the buses. By the time I got home I was already half-way done.

Earlier, at work, a line flew through my head. "But he meant well!" I knew I had to write it down, so I took a quick break and did so, then I proceeded to dash off half a page. When I got home I futzed on the computer a little bit, then had an idea for the next bit of the story. Before I knew it two and a half more pages had been written. As I read it over I realized that my style had been influenced by Hornby's, but was still my own.

Well, today I did something I hadn't done in a long time. I sat down in my home, on my very own sofa/loveseat/whatever, and just finished reading the book. Of course I loved it. Of course I want more.

That dovetails nicely with that corner I mentioned at the start of this entry: I may have to read nothing but Nick Hornby's work until I finish my own story, else my words may take on the flavor of another writer, as I unconciously tend to do when the author I'm reading has a strong style.

Then again, I may not have that problem after all. Back when I read Songbook, I noticed that my own way of phrasing and starting sentences with conjunctions is not unsimilar to his own. I had even pointed it out to CuteNerdBoy during an e-mail exchange, telling him that found that rather gratifying. He agreed that there were a few similarities, though he pointed out, "Although he's terribly English, and you're...not." Which is true, but I am an unabashed Anglophile, so maybe that accounts for some of it.

Or not.

Spending a month or so with Nick Hornby, with his words? I can think of worse ways to pass the time...

Friday, September 03, 2004

existence? still existing... 

...which is quite the suprise to me.

Due to a constant state of emergency at work the last few days in regards to a furniture shipment, I wanted to be at work this morning by 7am, so that I could make phone calls to follow-up on the continually unfurling, thoroughly frustrating, give-me-a-pitcher-of-margaritas-and-a-whole-bunch-of-dirty-matinis-to-get-through-this-week-or-I-shall-weep-in-frustration-because-our-factory-and-the-trucking-company-all-suck shipment. As a result, I was out of bed by 5:15am.

That's not too strange. Though it's not a ritual of mine, I've certainly been up that early - on occasion, even earlier.

No, what is truly shocking is that I actually went to bed at 10pm last night. And I was asleep within 30 minutes. I actually got about seven hours of sleep on a weeknight.

If y'all hear little implosions in your neighborhoods, it's because the universe couldn't handle me being responsible about getting enough sleep and is folding in on itself.

Then again, I ended up not actually arriving at work until 7:40am, which is still over forty-five minutes early, but not as early as I planned. So maybe that's why the world hasn't gone kaput.


So. I've been wearing skirts and high heels at work. Nothing unusual. I do that all the time. This week I've actually worn flats to/from work and changed into the heels at my desk, so I haven't worn the high heels (which tend to have pretty sturdy heels - no spiked heels for this girl) for hours on end. But I still like the look of the just-above-the-knee-length skirts and 3" heels.

(Don't worry, I tend to wear tops as well. Trying to avoid indecent exposure charges, doncha know. Besides, I work in West Hollywood. The boys there tend not to care about exposed breasts.)

Yesterday, as I was about to leave the showroom (kinda late - I hung out for a little while), I looked down at my shoes and noticed that my feet looked kinda puffy. I've been having a "big feet" week - due to the heat causing them to swell, I think - and most of my shoes have been a little snug. But last night my feet - and ankles - were more swollen than usual. And my left ankle was swollen to the point of looking deformed.

"Well, that's just freakish," I thought, and I wondered how it could be so swollen without hurting like hell.

I got home about an hour later, slapped on the ice pack, and sat for a few minutes with my legs elevated. I also made sure that I slept with my feet elevated. They're much better today, though the left ankle still looks unhappy about something.

I'm thinking I might have slightly injured something during my ten mile run and it's only now flaring up after several days of wearing heels. So today I'm wearing jeans and sneakers and I'll just stay off my feet tonight. I just don't want to give up my training tomorrow morning - I'll see how I feel then. It's just so strange that all I'm feeling is a bit of a twinge, and I didn't start feeling that until after I noticed my elephant ankles.

What a way to start a three-day weekend!

Speaking of which, a most joyous Labor Day Weekend to my American readers and a fantastic weekend all around to everyone!

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

how much do you love me? 

Enough to throw a little violence my way? I certainly hope so.

Specifically, well-written books that feature meaningless violence.

See, after reading both Fight Club and A Clockwork Orange in recent months, I had an idea for an essay or article regarding the violence which is such an integral part to the books (nothing new under the sun, I'm sure, but I still want to write it). I would really like to read a third such book to give a bit more depth to the premise I'm considering, but with all the books out there, I don't even know where to start.

And that's where you come in. I would be ever so grateful if anyone could recommend a book to me. What I'd like encounter in this third book:

* Excellent writing
* Violence that is frank and/or graphic, important to the feel of the book
* And, ideally, a female protagonist who has been the victim/perpetrator of the violence
* Even more ideal - written by a woman (though certainly not necessary)

I guess I'm looking for the literary equivalent of Thelma and Louise. I already know to whom I want to submit the essay, I just have to get it written.

So please, any suggestions, please e-mail them to me or leave them in the comments. I'll let y'all know what I decide when I decide.

Thank you!

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Carol/Female/36-40. Lives in United States/California/Los Angeles/San Fernando Valley, speaks English. Spends 40% of daytime online. Uses a Normal (56k) connection.
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United States, California, Los Angeles, San Fernando Valley, English, Carol, Female, 36-40.

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