Sunday, 10 March 2002 (sister k.)
We got our first piece of kittypr0n feedback yesterday. Still haven't heard anything from my parents (out of kindness?) or Danny, but Art, the front desk coordinator at the station, likes the show. In fact, he said that it's becoming popular, and when it's showing on the teevee in the lobby (apparently it's been shown in times other than its regular slot) people always stop and look. As he said, you can't go wrong with cute animals.
It really meant a lot coming from him, though. New shows come on all the time, and he obviously has neither the time nor the inclination to watch the majority, but he gave ours a try and liked it. The respect of my peers, or to be considered a peer at all, is apparently a big deal in my eternal quest for validation. Coincidental to all this, he took my favorite (well, "favorite") before picture in '97, though I doubt he remembers.
From there, it was to the Some Kind of Queer party at the LGBT Community Center. We had an utterly splendid time, even if it did start raining after a few hours. (It didn't become an issue until we left around 1am, and though we had to walk a few blocks in it then wait for the bus, it wasn't so bad. Always the same with me: I dread and fear going out into the rain, then immediately get used to it. I suppose that's a good thing.) We were in the front row for an Annie Sprinkle performance, and Maddy got her picture taken with her, Michelle Tea mit hubby, Carol Queen and Adrian Roberts. The alcohol increased her bravery a littlenormally she'd be too shybut I think the overall vibe of the event really made it possible: we're all in this queer thing together, and, as the kids say, it's all good. There's a lot wrong with this city and I don't disagree with anybody's criticisms of it, but it's still the right place for her and I to be.
Saturday, 9 March 2002 (black sheep)
sometime after midnight
On top of everything else, perhaps the oddest moment of the night was when a drunk Canadian at the table next to us kept going on about how much he thought I looked like Bif Naked, a Canadian singer. Maddy's very fond of her, having initially bought the album I Bificus because it was $5 and had a cute chick with black bangs on the cover. It was a nice compliment, but one must remember that he was, as previously mentioned, drunk and Canadian. (He mentioned his Canuck status a couple times, though the flapping head made it obvious.) He even insisted on having his picture taken with me, though I can only imagine what he'll think when they're developed and he's (presumably) sober. He'll probably say to his friends, "How come you didn't tell me it was a guy?" Or not.
Friday, 8 March 2002 (the sixth toe)
kittypr0n did air last night. The show immediately following it opened
with video footage of a dog swimming in a pool. That's the kind of thing that
can really take the wind out of your conceptual sails.
Not that it matters, because except for one of Maddy's LiveJournal friends (who
was taping), nobody was watching.
Thursday, 7 March 2002 (the fairy maide)
I've been messing around with stylesheets, and accidentally broke the fonts
yesterday afternoon. It should look better now.
So, we finally bought a new computer last night, the HP Pavilion 750n we'd been considering since we saw Jonco's on Saturday. No more failed upgrading of the old system, no more of me trying pretend I have l337 haX0r skillz by building a system from the ground up. Except for the fact that the video card doesn't do quite what I'd like, it's more than sufficient for our needs and is a significant improvement over the old beast in every way. To my surprise, it even comes with detailed instructions for upgrading, which should come in handy when we get that new card. (The DVD drive doesn't write, but that's something I can live with. kittypr0n on VCD will do fine.)
It's not quite hooked up yet, though. We had to satisfy a sushi craving first, so by the time we made it out to the Office Depot in Daly City (which satisfied the requirements of both having the item in stock and an actual parking lot) and back home, it was too late to really start playing with it. We also got a monitor, so we were at least able to hook that up to our old computer. Turns out that what we used to think were problems with our old monitor is in fact a problem with the computer itself, probably the video card. Even so, the new monitor is awfully pretty. And it's only, 17" which is perfect.
The justification for the relative extravagance, since I'm still technically unemployed
in spite of the current temp job, is the phat refund check which
hasn't arrived yet. One of these days, I'm sure.
Wednesday, 6 March 2002 (gold is the metal)
The programming guy at the station doesn't know for sure why kittypr0n didn't air on Monday night, but it wasn't anything we did wrong. The most likely culprit is the show before us, which was in the wrong format or or got shelved incorrectly or something along those lines. Our show is being rebroadcast this Thursday night at 12:30am after Fantasy Bedtime Hour. We could have gone into prime time, but, well, you know.
I've been accused of being prejudiced against smokers in the past, but this needs to be said: I'm really tired of people who smell like cigarettes, particularly since they always seem to sit next to us on the train. (The ultimate in patheticity, of course, are the ones who carry unlit cigarettes in their hand or behind their ears so that the moment they get outside they can light up. That's incrediby sad.) (Good thing it isn't addictive, huh?) For the record, in spite of the Bill Hicks-ian image of the militant nonsmoker, I've never confronted a smoker. Really, who wants to get near to that kind of breath?
Lew hinted once again that Dino and I will probably be around for a while longer than our original contract. (I know that he'd asked for our network accounts to be set up for three months, but that was almost certainly erring heavily on the side of caution.) Whenever it comes time to leave, though, I have a feeling it's going to break my heart just like before. Damn emotions.
Tuesday, 5 March 2002 (this is moon musick)
We voted this morning before going to work. This is getting to be a tiresome refrain, but I suspect not many others did, no matter how much they hate those darn terrorists.
After work, it's to the studio to edit together kittypr0n #3. If things keep going like last night, we'll have all the episodes ready before they ever get shown. Again, it's public access. How much can you expect?
After dressing somewhat conservatively last weeklong skirt, little makeup except for foundationI'm being a bit more expressive, wearing a short pleated skirt with leggings, black blouse with stripey arms, and lightly gothy makeup. (Though not technically full battle gear, for those of you keeping score.) I guess I needed last week to test the waters a little, and for some reason, I'm more concerned with dressing "professionally" than when I worked here before. And I've begun to seriously consider using the restrooms on a different floortoo many women on this floor knew me when, and it must be strange for thembut I'll probably get over it.
Monday, 4 March 2002 (oil water)
kittypr0n #2 is on tonight. According to the schedule, this is also supposed to be the premiere of the show being done by two very annoying guys at the programming meeting in January. They were loud, obnoxious and impatient, reminding me of nothing so much as being in high school. I didn't like being in their presence and was glad when they finally left. I did pay attention to the title of their show, and the fact that they took the timeslot of an existing show through the hugely controversial "lottery" system of choosing airtimes, the same one which resulted in us not being on after S*P*L*E*E*N like we'd originally wanted.
Out of the most morbid kind of curiosity, I decided to watch their show. But I'm
going to have to wait a month: they've been pre-empted for one last installment of the
show they so rudely bumped. Oh, I had myself a hearty laugh over that one, and I can
only imagine how pissed they must be. Serves 'em right.
We're in TV Guidethe online version, at least. That means we must be real.
I notice, however, that in the schedule grid the title is capitalized, but in the Close-Up it's properly all lowercase. For better
or for worse, this is the sort of thing I tend to notice.
Aw, man! We got gypped. kittypr0n didn't air tonight, thanks to what appeared to be massive technical difficulties on their end. Oh well. The multi-million dollar companies I've worked for never seem to have their shit together, so I can't rightly expect a not-for-profit public access station to either. While we're on the subject, both our DSL and dialup are severely ailing right now; neither stays connected for more than a few minutes, if we can get them going at all. It all boils down to one undeniable fact: NOTHING WORKS. When you accept that as self-evident, life begins to make a lot more sense.
We did get to see a little bit from the show that took over S*P*L*E*E*N's time slot, the one we will ostensibly be following. I don't like it. I think we'll be moving soon.
Sunday, 3 March 2002 (guest list)
My personal checks finally arrived, and much to my surprise, the name is spelled correctly. It's annoying to have had to wait four months to get them, but I console myself with the probability that if the order had gone through when I'd originally placed, it my name would have been misspelled.
We had lunch with Jonco yesterday, who's in town on bidness. As we were heading towards his hotel in Union Square, I decided we should walk down Cyril Magnin rather than the parallel but much more crowded Powell Street, which happens to be one of the busiest tourist areas in town. A mistake, as it turned out. We approached a small group of young guys on the street. A little older than the Stygian Triplets (what I call the kids who harrassed us on the bus during our acid trip a while back), but at least as annoying. When one of them turned and saw me, he put out his arms as if to hug me. I swerved slightly to avoid him, and as we walked past, he shouted, "Well, you don't have to dodge me! You're not that good looking! This is San Francisco, isn't it?" And other things I couldn't quite make out. Thankfully, they didn't follow us, and in spite of the San Francisco comment, I'm assuming that he didn't realize that he was trying to hug what he would have considered a guy. If he had, we might not have gotten away so easily.
We took him into the Castro to eat at Welcome Home (which, as it turns out, I'd taken him to when he visited in '97 or soguess we shoulda gone to Sparky's instead), then went back to his swanky hotel suite. There, I made a rather disturbing discovery: not only am I registered to vote under two names, but even though I identify myself and sign my name at the polling place as Sherilyn (right next to where it says "Sherilyn Connelly," even), the record shows me as voting under the old name. Maybe it had to do with my SSN, I don't know. But I'm calling the county clerk's office next week to get it taken care of.
He had an interesting theory about my recent itchiness: genetics. More specifically, a genetic predisposition to being dehydrated, resulting in dry, itchy skin. It's true that I haven't been drinking nearly as much water as I used tomy four liter-a-day habit is down to maybe half a liter, if that. Not good, I realize, and made more difficult by my slight anxiety about the restroom at work. (I'm using the women's room, of course, and so far I've only gotten one doubletake. It was as I was leaving Friday night. I had my sunglasses and my trenchcoat on, and I suspect that had something to do with it. I also didn't shave that morning, since I wanted to see how long it would take to grow out enough facial hair to facilitate zapping. I guess I have my answer.) So more water for me.
For the last few weeks, particularly since I did the math and got a sense of what my tax refund would beand very much aided by the fact that I'm employed again, however temporarilywe've been looking into getting a new computer. Or maybe just an extensive upgrade. We've been going back and forth on that one, mainly because I'm so retarded on these issues and need hardcore handholding, more than I can reasonably expect from any of my friends. Seeing Jonco's HP Pavillion 750n, though, we fell in love. Except for the video card not being quite up to snuff for what I have in mind (kittypr0n on DVD? why, yes), it's pretty much what we want. Maddy may even be able to get one at a slight discount through the company's supplier. If not, then it's off to CompUSA.
I'm a curiosity. I realize this, and accept it. Really, what choice do I have? But I can't help but wonder
what people say about me, so when Jonco told me that coworkers saw me in his wedding pictures and
commented on how pretty his sister is, I had to ask. The answer, not surprisingly, is that he outed me to them, effectively
putting quotes around the s-word. I don't mind at all, and it beats him being ashamed. (And they thought
I looked pretty? Aw...)
By the way, I apologize for the gratuitous Ignatius J. Reilly reference a few days ago. It makes me seem much more well-read than I really am, and it's even the more dishonest because I couldn't even finish A Confederacy of Dunces. Sorry about that.
Saturday, 2 March 2002 (daisies of the galaxy)
sometime after midnight
Have I mentioned how lucky I got with my family?
Friday, 1 March 2002 (nothing in the sky but air)
This is what I mean. There's a birth scene towards the end of 3 Women, away from a hospital without a doctor, and the only other character present didn't know what to do. (You're never going to see the movie anyway, so it hardly qualifies as a spoiler.) It was filmed as a long shot done in hazy silhouette through which it was difficult to make out many details, but it was obvious that the baby, once born, didn't have an umbilical cord. Naturally, the audience howled with laughter. Y'know what? If it had been born with an umbilical cord and the inexperienced and nearly hysterical character cut it, they would have found it just as hilarious. Sometimes I wonder why these people don't just stay home and watch teevee so they can laugh at everything for free. It's like being in a room packed with Ignatius J. Reillys.
The guy from the staffing agency just brought me my first check. It's only for the 12 hours I worked last week, but it's darn nice. I have to be careful not to get used to this sort of thing again.
I feel I need to get zapped, but not only do I not have a weekend free for a couple weeks, I'm not sure I have the courage to let my facial hair grow out for the necessary few days beforehand. Just one of those things I probably should have been more attentive to these last five months. I'll just have to live with feeling ugly for the time being. (I suppose that as long as I keep getting paid, I can deal with it.)