Playing Catch-up
July 18th
Misplaced Guilt.
The first time I went for a manicure, I decided against a pedicure. Manicures by themselves are $13 dollars, mani/pedis are $33. But I'd be lying if my initial apprehension was simply monetary. Something struck me as weird about the whole pedicure process. Not only are you being pampered, getting calf massages but you're having perfect strangers pay meticulous attention to your feet. I don't have a phobia of my feet being touched or anything, but I almost feel bad for the women who do it. They're bent over pretty much all day, scrubbing strangers feet. I sort of feel like I'm being a bother to them, even though I'm paying them $33 plus tip. I don't have any such moral dilemmas when I'm getting my hair cut, or when I'm at the dentist or the doctor or even when I get my brows waxed, but something about getting a massage and being pampered makes me feel as though I don't actually deserve it, and that I shouldn't be putting these women out by making them do it. Never mind the fact that I pay them.
Transvestites in Jeans.
When I lived in Michigan, certain common things seemed completely out of reach to me. Concerts, for example, seemed like something that only super-rich groovy people got to go to. I, not being super-rich or very groovy, would not get to partake in the experience of seeing a performer I really liked up-close and in person. It was a simple accepted fact. I did finally go to a concert, but that's besides the fact.
After moving to California, doors that were firmly locked in Michigan hung wide open for me to step through, and that's what I did in March when I saw that tickets for Eddie Izzard's newest tour "Stripped" were going on sale. After confirming that my roommate would give me a ride and would sit through the show with me, I bought them, and they've been in the back of my mind ever since.
As it happens, time passed and suddenly it was July 18th, and after getting a mani/pedi, Rachel and I were in San Francisco, ready to see my most favorite Executive Transvestite Comedian.
The crowd was amazing. There were groups of aging lesbians in sport jackets and fedoras, prim, suit-wearing bald gay men with floral bags, tall girls with tattoos and piercings, young men with pocket protectors, very short people, very tall people, young and old, dressed down and dressed up, and to top it all off, a father/son team of an old beer-bellied biker and a gorgeous young goth in vinyl pants and 3 inch platforms. Of course there was Rachel and I as well, both wearing jeans and pretty shirts.
The entire motley crew funneled into The Orpheum, where I spent a good 20 minutes looking at the architecture, listening to the conversations around us, and hoping that nobody really tall sat in front of me so I could get a good look at Eddie. Thankfully, the aforementioned lesbians in sport jackets sat there, and they were all on the shorter side.
He was fashionably late to the stage, and when he came out the crowd exploded in joy. I'd been expecting fishnets and fake breasts, like in Sexie (his last show), but he sauntered on stage in a pair of jeans, a suit jacket with red lining, and with a bit of a beard. The line from Come Together kept running through my head as I squinted to see the stage, "got to be good looking cause he's so hard to see." We had decent seats really, but my eyes are getting worse and worse. So I squinted, and yes, he was looking good.
The show itself was amazing of course, he talked about everything from the patron saint of cooking, to the romans dying in a chariot crash, to surprised fish and giant squids who want to watch "The Riches" (minor self promotion there, eh Eddie?). By the time it was all over, my jaw hurt from all the laughing.
July 19th and on.
A lot of little different but not too important things went on. More cats were adopted from the center, and new ones showed up to take their place. Rachel went to weddings, Jer and I got lost, and my dentist told me that if my jaw pops when I open my mouth too wide, I ought to not open my mouth so wide. Work has been good, I continue to impress my bosses with simple things, like spreadsheets and tracking packages with UPS.
When I'm not currently mopping coffee off my desk, I'm mostly listening to music, reading sucky customer stories and watching Foreign Horror/Thriller flicks. In the past week or two I've seen One Missed Call, The Eye, The Host, Ju-On, Tomie, "Three Extremes", Imprint, The Orphanage & The Devil's Backbone. All but the last two are Japanese, The Orphanage and Devil's Backbone are Spanish, the last one being directed by the masterful Guillermo del Toro, who is easily one of my favorite directors.
It's not to say that I don't have work to do here, but generally it gets done so fast that I have 4-5 hours left of absolutely nothing out of an 8 hour day. But I can't really complain, though I do anyway. I had a rough patch before my period this month, and did a lot of yelling and angry faces at Rachel, she actually talked to her therapist about it, who suggested I was resentful at having a full time job. I can't say I don't miss the free time, but I know I can't live without the money.
Lastly, I think I feel change a'coming. My grandfather, who I've always thought of as a lifelong republican, is casting his vote for Barack Obama. That makes me very happy.
