One Straight Jacket, Size Small

More than once recently, I have thought that the world has gone fucking mad. There are too many examples to cite from our collective cultural crap hole so I'll spare you. But you live on this planet, you know what I am talking about don't you?

I am not sure if it is the madness that has kept me away from blogging for a year or if it has brought me back. But I can say one thing for certain: living in a house with two children four years old and nearly two years old combine with my live-in nanny who is a raging born again Christian, and the fact that I still don't have any friends here, my desire to cruse, be rude, irreverent, and an all around heathen during the 9 to 5 work day was starting to drive me to distraction. Where else but over here at the SWC Headquarters can I be all of these things and more?

In addition to wanting to say "Oh Fuck!" every once in awhile, I also came back because we had the occasional good times over here, haven't we?

Like this

and this

And speaking of "over here," I forgot to mention that I was transfered from the gated community on the hill to a mini-mansion on a private cove over-looking a bay. I know, sounds exciting but really, this place is just one big padded cell.

And hey, I am about to become a mother of three so y'all know I am a bit "touched" as the polite ladies in the American South used to say.

If there is anyone out there, throw me a bone. What has been driving you nuts since you last graced the halls the SWC visiting room?

Image by Annalucylle/flickr

Hear Ye, Hear Ye!

I'm back and I might add that it is about fucking time. I'll be honest. I haven't missed blogging. It is too much work and plus Facebook is easier but not nearly as fun (everyone is so damned earnest on FB, what gives?).

I have from time to time visited this blog, hoping that my password would come back to me and after many failed attempts here I am, whatever that is worth.

What Would Angelina Do?

Life is happening over in these parts. Let's just say that a series of unfortunate events has resulted in a not so brief stint in solitary confinement at the Chinese equivalent of the Betty Ford Center. And who knew that Burberry had an exclusive line of clothing for female detainees?

Anyway, I am turning to you all out there in the ether for a little seriously needed advice.

It seems that my application for a position at the car wash is under consideration. I am being asked to drag my rump to the other side of the world to meet the manager and perform a wax job or two.

Though there are many potential problems with all of this, including the damage to my artistic soul as I face yet another reminder that a woman can not eat on her words alone, the biggest worry is what to do with my brand spanking new nine month old baby who is still nursing, esp. at night and loves him his mamma.

Do I take him and subject him to the 16 hour flight in (gasp!) coach? Live through the pain of killer jet lag and then a random baby sitter for a few hours (through a trustworthy service)and hope that I never have to tell the folks at the car wash that my son is holed up in the hotel waiting for me to come back so they shouldn't ask me do any additional buffing or help park the cars or see if I can work the computer in the front office?

If I leave him home he will be in the care of his father and much loved nanny. He will also be with his brother. But away from the boob. And he gets really, really cranky without me. And I am none to keen to wean him or be away from him either. We are talking 4 nights and 5 long days away from each other. Plus, I will also be with out my eldest child which is already causing me some major anxiety.

Angelina Jolie never has to think about these things, I know. But I cannot get the US embassy to give my nanny a short term visa. However, I did manage to use some miles that I didn't know I had to get myself a buisness class seat for the return flight. Of course, the flight to the soul crushing interview is fully booked and I am on a very long waiting list for an upgrade.


The mere thought of jetlag and long haul flights and blitz travel is making my head spin.

So I'm getting all woman on the street about this.

What would you do?

Writing On The Wall

It has been a long time since my last post. I would like to blame my absence on the late night parties, the after hours clubs, the exclusive backstage passes to Paris Fashion week, and the champagne brunches on the yacht of my new best friend. I would also like to blame my disappearance on account of my volunteering at the Hong Kong International Literary Festival, but I can’t even do that.

A few weeks ago, in my quest to make some friends, I responded to a call for volunteers. Now mind you, I was aware that Interpol (division of fugitive international volunteers) had put me on their most wanted watch list about ten years ago, but I thought that time served plus my obvious remorse might have expunged my record. It’s a new day people. I am older now, wiser, and perhaps even shorter than my last altercation as a volunteer. The chances are very, very small that I will ever again attack another volunteer in the middle of an African Rainforest. Nor will I run off with a hot director of an orphanage in Southern Italy, and even if I did, which I wouldn’t, this time I would be suspicious about his sources of income. I will not be fooled a second time. And like wise, I really doubt that I would ever again consider leaving my post as a witness for peace to take up with armed rebels in the jungles of South America. And really, this time, I promise, if there is a flyer to be handed out, I will not take the stack to the nearest recycling bin nor will I crank call the people on the phone list or have Bugs Bunny “sign” a petition.

Since my wayward days are over, I didn’t think twice when I offered body, heart, and soul to those “people” who run the festival. I mean I am not a volunteer to sneeze at because, A: I got loads of time on my hands. And B: I have experience. I know how to work a mic, seat people, chat up an author, pour a glass of water, stuff an envelope, discreetly pick my ass and look self important while doing it.

Anyway, I am over the rejection. Because after seeing the below clip, I am reminded of my life’s higher purpose.





And in other SWC news, my book sold. And before you vomit in your mouth, note that the book is not based on the blog.