Ru-Paul and Other Distractions. (Blogstalking week 4 AND 5)

I hate traffic, my filthy windshield, and sunrise. Now that that unpleasantness is out of the way, let me tell you about what I love. What I love is things that are completely random. Like this weekend. This was a hella random weekend. Friday night I was out with Lucky. It was an entire night devoted to driving around to creepy places. Those creepy places included the most enormous cemetery ever to go completely unnoticed by everyone I've asked about it. This place is HUGE. I can't even begin to explain the extreme largeness. As a matter of fact it's actually two cemeteries that sort of run into each other and three mausoleums. One of the mausoleums is a three story building that at first we thought couldn't possibly be what it was, it was just too big. The other two are smaller two story deals though smaller is a completely relative term, they're still larger than most suburban apartment complexes in this area. The thing that's so crazy random about the place is that it's on two main roads and yet no one seems to know it's there. We also hit up an apartment building that Lucky says would be his top choice for locations to shoot a slasher flick in. I agree, the place is like a tiny Winchester mansion. The stairs alone are just bizarre (two sets right next to each other that never intersect and you can't see one from the other but they lead to the exact same spot) then you throw in exterior walls on the inside of the building, a rickety fire escape, all the blind corners (and by that I mean all the corners are blind corners, I bet it makes moving in and out a bitch) a great view of the city, and the fact that you never see any of the residents of the place and you've got yourself a movie. I wish I had thought to bring my camera but that's the theme of the weekend, randomness and me kicking myself for forgetting the camera. Saturday we went to the barber shop and they invited us to their anniversary shindig that night. Red Todd Kidd and I tried to find a sitter but couldn't so he bade me take up with Kaylee and go forth to this rockabilly show. So we did. Adventure ensued. First we went to the Tower Bar where this thing was taking place. They were playing the most campy and strange D-movies on the tv in the corner, almost everyone in the place was drinking tall boys of PBR, and the whole place looked like a casting call for West Side Story 2 (Which I'm sure would have the same basic plot as West Side Story except it'd be set in present day and the tension would be between hardcore rockabilly kids and apathetic emo hipsters fighting over who gets to be pretentious in the town's diviest dive bar. Then one pretty little cutting emo girl in horn rim glasses with no prescription and an outfit that probably cost $300 trying to get it to look like it came from a thrift store locks eyes with a vintage car driving, leather jacket wearing, James Dean wannabe who clearly spends most of his time on ebay looking for vintage pomade to rock in his pompadour and doomed romance blooms, I hate to spoil the ending for you but they both die, she slits her wrists with one of his vintage Elvis records then he puts her dead body in the car with him and drives off a cliff). Kaylee and I sat there, sat there, sat there, watched a reenactment of the Outsiders when a rumble broke out just near the door, sat there, sat there, sat there, got drinks spilled on us, sat there, sat there, and sat there. Since after all that sitting the band STILL hadn't gone on and it was damn near midnight, we took off. We had a mind to head to this piano bar Kaylee's been talking about but we never made it there. You see, we got caught up in a weird midnight traffic fiasco that was being caused by some random side street being blocked off. As we were stopped we heard an amplified voice ring out through the night, "Yes, hello everyone! I'm Ru-Paul Superstar of the world!" (or whatever the hell that catchphrase of his is) and we decided we had to find out if it was really him. So we parked around the corner and wandered back to discover some charity event drag show with Ru-Paul on stage in a wig he'd clearly gotten at Dolly Parton's last yard sale and more pink sequins than I thought existed this side of Key West. Spectacular. Truly. But we were hungry and our curiosity was sated so we left and stumbled on to a little 24 hour diner where we spent the next hour eating the most awesome sandwiches and talking to three complete strangers about porn among other things. After that I was drunk dialed by The Cowardly Lion who simply read me the definition of drunk dialing followed by the definition of a booty call. So we went over to his house and hung out with him and his wives for a little bit. Yes, I said wives, they've been watching too much Big Love over there. Sunday was for geocaching with the family which was pretty cool, actually. RTK's been on me to try it out for awhile so we got a GPS and went and did one. The kids loved it. I'd go into more detail but my fingers may fall off from all the typing. I'll blog some pics of that another day. Anyway, the three things I love (in case you don't get the pictures): October, my daughter trying to throw up the horns, and National City Municipal Code 11.68.050 which prohibits "cruising" and leads to those goofy signs all up and down Highland Avenue, it always cracks me up. Also you'll see my blogstalking week 5 assignment which requires I photograph a statue. I found this copse of angels quite by accident in the aforementioned giant cemetery when Lucky and I went back Sunday afternoon. Technically you're not supposed to photograph people's headstones but I cropped out the ones you could read. The statues stand out because the whole area they're in is plain as hell except this group of statues all crowded together like some sort of saint convention.

Voodoo Doll injury and Robert Plant's trousers.

I seem to have knit myself out of commission. The last two fingers of my right hand cramp up every time I try to work on my project. Either the fine gauge and dense knit fabric have played havoc with my digits or the bad juju of Bad Juju is upon me. I'm leaning toward the latter since the last thing I did was accidentally put a leg where an arm should be. Maybe I'm careless, maybe I'm cursed, it doesn't really matter the end result is the same. As you may recall, or if you use those tag things and actually go back and read old posts, I had said I'd never knit Bad Juju again. You see, the thing is, I'm lazy. Even though this pattern isn't really the best and even though it has a lot of stuff I'd rather do another way, I really don't feel like trying to alter or rewrite it. So, I'm knitting it again (and again) even though I don't like it because I am seemingly under its spell. I really hope this doesn't lead to a life of knitting voodoo dolls and then possible raising of zombies that will ultimately destroy me and take over the earth. That would suck but Zanti and OLPP might worship me. Although I'm pretty sure Holly Bee would come kill me. But it's cool if she did, I'd totally have it coming. Seriously. So to pass the time I'm listening to copious amounts of Led Zeppelin (a little aside, PennyKarma sent me a version of Stairway to Heaven done by Dolly Parton that is really outstanding, truly it boggles the mind) and working on a story. And occasionally going over to You Tube and watching Robert Plant wander around on stage with his shirt open. Is it hot in here? I don't even like blondes. What a shame I missed the 70's. Oh, how I would have followed that band around like Vic from Almost Famous. Did I have a point because I seem to have lost it down Robert Plant's trousers.

How do you get from there to here?

Across the asphalt, pools of it everywhere, dark as tar with the sheen of obsidian it reflected the light of the waning moon back at me menacingly, as a murderer might brandish a knife. It seemed unfathomable that other children would play in it, splash it at one another, and most disturbing of all leap right into the middle of a lake of that caustic substance. How could they jump in when they couldn’t see through it? How could they trust that it was only a few inches of water when in darkness it became something so much more? How come no one else knew, as I did, that at night they ceased to be simple puddles and became insidious dark water portals waiting roil over and consume the careless child who stepped in when no one was looking? I have no idea how I got here.