Friday, August 29, 2008

quote of the day

much to say about obama's amazing night, but will have to save that for a later time.

until then, here's a fun quote from an LGBT political list-serve, regarding McSame's choice of Sarah Palin as veep.

"Keep in mind Sarah Palin is Governor of Alaska.

A state that is 22 years younger than John McCain."

we are so. winning. it. all. in November.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

o pioneer

from the San Francisco Chronicle:

Lesbian rights pioneer Del Martin dies

(08-27) 12:29 PDT SAN FRANCISCO -- Del Martin, a lesbian rights pioneer who took part in one of California's first same-sex weddings, died today in San Francisco after a long period of declining health. She was 87.

Ms. Martin's political activism began in the 1950s when she co-founded a ground-breaking lesbian rights organization. On June 16, she and her partner of 55 years, Phyllis Lyon, were married at San Francisco City Hall by Mayor Gavin Newsom, her last public act of political activism.

Ms. Martin died this morning at UCSF Hospice, nearly two weeks after she was admitted with a broken arm. Lyon was at her side.

"Ever since I met Del 55 years ago, I could never imagine a day would come when she wouldn't be by my side," Lyon said in a statement issued by the National Center for Lesbian Rights. "I am so lucky to have known her, loved her and been her partner in all things."

"I also never imagined there would be a day that we would actually be able to get married," Lyon said. "I am devastated, but I take some solace in knowing we were able to enjoy the ultimate rite of love and commitment before she passed."


no words necessary. except to say...she's my heroine.

Monday, August 25, 2008

it's official: i'm an oldie

Every now and then i'll be navigating through a routine day and something will happen that makes me blurt out "good gawd, this is blogworthy" and i had one of those very moments on the road with Young Matthew this past weekend.

We were speeding up 95 heading to Bangor for the American Folk Festival (when Young Matthew is driving I am pretty sure that, on occasion, we possibly break the sound barrier. it can be a white-knuckles-on-the-dashboard kind of adventure.) We always forget to bring CDs to listen to, so we play the SCAN game on the radio and hope that the Gods of Music randomly shine their grace upon us. Remarkably, even though I'm old enough to be his really hip mother (and when i say hip, i am being hopeful that i've managed to turn my version of Geek into Hipness. doubtful. but hope springs eternal), we have the same taste in music, and this little radio scan game has become an amusing part of our road trips. We seem to always catch the great songs right around the Big Finish (ie. the so-you-think-you-can-stone-me-and-spit-in-my-eye part of Bohemian Rhapsody) and then we both bitch and moan that we missed yet another rockin' tune in its entirety. Sometimes Matt will get to a Jesus station and make a special point of stopping the scan, just to see how long i can tolerate it before i start screaming "IF YOU DON'T CHANGE THIS STATION I AM JUMPING OUT OF THE FRIGGING CAR." What can i say...the trip to Bangor is not especially picturesque and so we have to entertain ourselves.

So we get to the Newport road sign, and I'm just about to call my Bangor Boy to tell him we are within striking distance of Bangor when I hear a DJ say "it's Kenny on your favorite Oldies Station, and here's a real classic". I'm expecting Buddy Holly or some other tune that my mom and dad would play when i was a kid and say oh dahl, this was an oldie-but-goodie. But no. It's Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman.' um. yeah. This is a song that was popular when i was in junior high school. And a song now being referred to by a nostalgia radio station DJ as a freaking classic. Let's just say my reaction and animated. "this is NOT a classic!!!! i am NOT old enough that my 45s collection can be categorized as OLDIES BUT GOODIES." A statement which i can acknowlege was rich with irony and glaring contradictions. 45s. right.

This was one of those defining moments in unenjoyable rite of passage...similar to the first time i spotted a gray hair on my head. i remember it well. i was 27, driving on Highland Avenue in South Portland, and glanced in the rearview mirror to see a conspicuous white hair pointing straight up to the sky like a dying weed reaching for the sun. Freaked me out so bad that i screamed out loud "NO NO NOOOOO!!!". Kept obsessively looking at it in the rearview mirror and almost killed a pedestrian. Like a fool i thought i could just yank the damn thing out and stop the whole process but those little buggers started reproducing like white rabbits (one pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small, and the ones that mother gives you, don't do anything at all...and if you do not know the song that said lyrics refer to, don't talk to me right now.) i began referring to them as "the white worms of death" (all credit must go to Tom Robbins for that) and around that time i started going for the Annie Lennox look and dyeing my hair platinum blonde. That'll teach 'em. And didn't wave the white (er...gray) flag until about 7 years ago when i finally stopped paying ridiculous amounts of money to cover them up, said fuck it, you win, and let the whole damn bunch of them take up permanent residence on my head.

Yeah. This was just. like. that. Matt found the whole thing utterly amusing which did not make me happy at all. i *wanted* to say "i hope i am close by when this happens to you". But then it occured to me that he would probably have to be visiting me in a Nursing Home for such a coincidence to transpire. Right.

i immediately called Bangor Boy and related the story to him with as much drama and exasperation as the event deserved. He was very sympathetic and told me that just moments ago he had mentioned "Dark Shadows" to a younger friend and discovered she had never heard of that fabulous television show. We comforted one another and promised to try and get adjoining rooms at the Old Folks Home we were surely headed for.

When i got off the phone, i mentioned 'Dark Shadows' to Matt.

His response?

"Was that a band or a song?"

If he wasn't driving, and if i didn't like the boy so much, i could have freaking reached over and smacked the little smart-ass right upside the head.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

i heart searsport

it's been so long since i've been on The Slant, i had to wipe away the cobwebs on my profile. for. real.

i almost didn't go to searsport last weekend because i thought hmm, i should stay home, do laundry, get caught up on work stuff. but corey's powers of persuasion are almost impossible to resist, *and* i am learning the value of weekends and of quality time away from my professional life--in my business, you don't get a lot of free empty spaces, and in fact, after Labor Day i will have precious few days without work commitments filling them up. so i said what the hell, packed a bag, and hit the road with Wonder Woman Corey (and Daisy, the sweetest dog ever.) i'm. so. glad. i. did. (more on that in a moment). the result of ignoring the mountain of work is that i've had to pour it on since Sunday night. translation: all work and no play and that has meant no Slant posts. but i'm back...though likely it will be a a brief return. i'm heading to Bangor Saturday morning for a work thang, and then spending that night with my Bangor Boy Kevin. which is at least a healthy mix of work *and* play.

so, Searsport. frigging spectacular. a slice of heaven, or paradise, or nirvana...anything that conjures up thoughts of pleasure and relaxation and wide open space to exhale, that's searsport baby. we had amazing hosts...our very wonderful friends bill & colleen, and colleen's mom & uncle. i don't think there are kinder, sweeter, more generous people in the world. they have smiles that warm your soul and they have an uncanny way of making you feel like Queen for the Day. oh. my. god. i just love 'em, so much.

they have a gorgeous cottage, steps away from the water, with hammocks and a big old porch facing the ocean and the kind of lovely quiet that is so let's just say i didn't feel the need to meditate, at all, for the entire weekend. the weather was almost perfect, and we ate like royalty and sipped cocktails, laughed and talked, played some fierce games of Mexican Train (a very addictive version of dominoes that i am now utterly obsessed with). on saturday night, the full moon made a lovely guest appearance, and we all sat on the back porch and watched the moonlight dance on the water, told stories, and honestly, the crazy world just disappeared. it was magical.

so was an absolutely perfect weekend, and will sit in my heart for a good long time. if i ever win the powerball and can Live the Life of Lesbian Leisure, *that's* exactly how i'm gonna spend the rest of my days.

and now--back to reality, and work, work, work--today, starting right this minute, at 6:30 am. yes indeedy. so it's a brief post, with a promise of more to come soon. stay tuned. in the meantime, here's a shot of The Searsport Women, and the Dazzling Daisy. Happy Thursday y'all.

Friday, August 15, 2008

slacker 2, the sequel

i mentioned in yesterday's post that i'm heading to searsport later today with corey...(i also mentioned beer, lobsters, and ocean, and i just wanted to say that again, because hey, i'm kind of excited for, um, beer, lobsters, and ocean.) i also mentioned no internet. which means no Slant posts. until at least sunday afternoon.

so have a great weekend y'all. i hear the sun may shine in maine for a change. get outside and soak it in.

i'll leave you with this completely random clip of molly shannon on saturday night live. it has absolutely nothing to do with any recent posts or topics of interest. it's just damn hilarious.

buh-bye for now.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008


every now and then, when posts have been scant on the slant, i'll get a friendly nudge from dawn at mdi, usually an email with the subject line slacker. i've been expecting one since i haven't written anything in the last few days, and sure enough, when i checked my mail tonight, there it was, steady as she goes. and so here i am.

and i got nothing but some random thoughts...

michael phelps. holy shit. i'm not gonna go into some long diatribe about the 800 reasons it completely disgusts me that the Olympics are in China. i'm too tired to do it tonight. i'm just gonna say....Michael Phelps. i want to be him, for like 20 seconds. just to see how it feels to be oh, i dunno, a superhero.

heating oil. causing sleepless nights on Beacon Street. picturing myself this winter wearing every sweater i own. all at once. remember the little brother in "A Christmas Story" who wears the winter jacket that is so puffy he can't move his arms?

that's gonna be me, attempting to maneuver around my apartment in 800 layers of clothing. if i can't figure out a way to stretch 100 gallons of oil over a 6-8 week period this winter, i'm not gonna eat. the good news...Muffin Top Belly Reduction.

susan collins. that whole "Secret Union Vote" thing? those freaking obnoxious commercials? aside from the fact that they are annoying, and false, and that people are stupid enough to think it means Tom Allen believes we should do away with secret ballots, and did i mention that they are annoying? aside from all of a Sopranos Freak Fanatic, I am not happy that Johnny Sacks is in one of the commercials. somebody, quick, get Gandolfini on the phone and let's film a response ad where Tony Soprano kicks some serious Johnny Sacks butt.

foot in mouth disease. Johnny Mcsame quote of the week, regarding Russian invading Georgia: "in the 21st century, nations don't invade other nations." oh. my. god.

like matthew yglesias says: "We all recall, of course, John McCain’s outrage when the United States violated this rule back in 2003."

the x files. saw the new x-files movie last week. the company was lovely. the movie though? um. don't bother. unless you're at all interested in maniacal mad scientist russian homosexuals who perform head transplants in unsanitary, scary shacks in the middle of nowhere. bad, bad, bad.

the pretenders. releasing a new album. a new COUNTRY album. this does not make me happy. Chrissie Hynde was such a bitchin' chick rocker. i'll probably buy it anyway, and end up hating it. and then i'll just play Learning To Crawl. over and over and over again. 'cause that album makes. me. happy. side note: am i supposed to say that the pretenders are releasing a new "CD"?? 'cause i am fully aware that, well, albums went the way of slinkies and hula hoops and Fresca and MTV being music television that airs music videos. screw it. i'm still saying album. i miss albums. i miss how excited i used to get to check out the sleeve, and the liner notes.

lindsay lohan. allegedly livin' the lesbian life. converting to Judaism for Samantha. and Samantha (who i have to say...well, makes me want to take a shower whenever i see a photo of her...eww) finally speaks publicly about their little romance. and we discover why she's never spoken publicly before. because she sort of sounds like an idiot. "Lindsay is great. But she's also 22 years old. I think people forget that. With the Internet the way it is, one second we're enemies, one second we're best friends, one second we're lovers, and then we're broken up... Even the airport security guy in Canada asked me, 'So is it true?' It's like, 'Oh, yeah, I'm telling you!' like, oh my god! that's so like, crazy!!! um. who. flipping. cares.

searsport. i'm there. this weekend. road trip with Corey. visiting friends who have a lovely cottage. on the ocean. key words: lobster. beer. no internet. and did i mention cottage on the ocean? this may be the cure for the worst Case Of Crankiness i've had in months.

lamest post ever? quite possibly. blame it on the rain (yeah, yeah...Milli fucking Vanilli, baby!!)

or blame it on the full moon. or lack of sleep due to oil prices, as mentioned earlier. whatever. i tried to make it at least entertaining by inserting Pretty Pictures. Dawn wanted a post. here it is sister friend.

happy hump night y'all.

Sunday, August 10, 2008


silas: we can't just stand around and do nothing. They'll hit us again.

nancy: let me worry about it.

silas: you weren't the one that got the shit beat out of them.

nancy: you're right. i wasn't. i'm also not going up against an army of drug-dealing bikers with a 17-year-old boy, a flamboyant Hindi queen, and a four-foot-tall Jesus-loving pixie as my posse.


editor's note: the slant acknowledges that it is no coincidence that Sunday's posts were titled "homegrown" and "weeds."

talk amongst yourselves. 'cause i gotta get back to Mary Louise Parker. she's just...smokin' hot.

weeds, season three.


i heart maine, for many, many reasons. you can stay home if you're on vacation because there are eighty bazillion places to visit and explore. we brew excellent beer. ocean, ocean, ocean. we actually buy local and get quality stuff when we do. edna st. vincent millay, longfellow, harriet beecher stowe, stephen king, andrew wyeth. ocean, ocean, ocean. beer, beer, beer.

*and* we are also home to some incredible musicians. seriously talented. like kate schrock. playing right now at The Slant House. well, she isn't actually *here*. oh how i wish. she's the real deal. um. wow.

found this lovely video of kate. followed by some Slant recommendations for homegrown music. feel free to add yours.

in no particular order:

the coming grass, beauty of a heart

sara cox, arrive

darien brahms, green valentine

vanessa torres and touching ground, witness

kate schrock, invocation

wall of jules, wicked

slaid cleaves, broke down

Saturday, August 09, 2008

protecting the sanctity of rants

so the big news this morning is that john edwards cheated on his wife. eh, here we go again.

let me start by saying i have giant-sized empathy, hell, universe-sized empathy, for elizabeth edwards, and for the hillary clintons and the cindy mccains of the world who get to see their partner's betrayals discussed live, and incessantly, on Color TV. i lived through that kind of betrayal. and oh-my-god, it sucked. the humiliation was horrible enough, and i cannot. begin. to. imagine the scope of it when the entire world learns about and then obsesses over it for days, weeks, months, and in hill's case, years. i could write a whole post on the slow, torturous recovery you have to endure as the partner-who-got-cheated-on. it is deeply painful, grueling, embarrassing, and will take any self-esteem you've managed to amass and obliterate it into millions of tiny, glass-like and dangerously sharp pieces. the re-building of Self takes years, and even when you think you're finally over it, it can rear its ugly head again at any moment and just mess. you. up. for real. my heart just aches for Elizabeth Edwards today. but that is not what i want to write about.

i seem to find myself in a bit of a conundrum. or a paradox. or a catch-22. 'enigma' doesn't seem to fit, but i really like that word so i decided to insert it anyway.

on the one hand, i want to believe that i couldn't give a rat's ass about the gorry details of a candidate or elected official's personal life. i mean damn, if i used that as a threshhold when deciding who to support, well, i might as well stay home and not vote at all. because, come on people, we all have skeletons in our proverbial closets. and when you mix power and prestige with sex, it seems that a whole lot of our "leaders" just cannot. resist. the temptations. call it egoism, call it narcissism, call it whatever you want, but the same great movers and shakers who can manage to deal rather brilliantly with shit like, um, wars or threats of nuclear annihilation or global economies, simply cannot manage their own pitiful libidos. Franklin D. couldn't manage it, JFK couldn't manage it, and the list goes on and on and on.

i mean, lezbe honest, if the current sex-obsessed press had been around in the "olden days", we would likely find out that that since the beginning of our lovely little experiment called The United States, a whole lot of our public servants, from the prez all the way down to the dog-catcher, are, or were, um, knee-deep in extra-marital affairs. this is not a news flash. it's probably a Big-Sized Statement on the whole sanctity-of-marriage BS, which brings me to the um, conundrum part of this post.

that is, on the other hand, the rat's ass that i didn't want to give away earlier quite suddenly appears on my gift list when these same pols are self-righteous and judgemental and all-about-protecting-the-sanctity of something they are secretly (for the time being) smashing to smithereens. this is the stuff that just utterly disgusts me. there are scads of examples, right? toe-tappin' larry craig and diaper-boy david vitter sponsoring the latest federal marriage amendment act. governor charlie crist, who has been dodging gay rumors for-evah and well, if he ain't gay then i ain't, and who wants a shot at the GOP veep spot so badly that he beards himself up good and tight by getting engaged, um, quickly, and announcing his support of florida's marriage amendment. And Johnny My Cheatin' Heart McSame, who said this regarding his support of Arizona's marriage amendment in 2006: "I'm proud to have led an effort in my home state to change our state constitution and to protect the sanctity of marriage as between a man and woman."

and lest i sound too partisan, this kind of a rant would not be complete without citing Bill Clinton and his signing of the Federal DOMA in 1996. the fact that a guy who said "i did. not. have. sexual. relations. with. that. woman" and did (oh how he did), could then put his presidential signature of approval on a law defending marriage from um, people like ME, is just, well, goddamn ridiculous. even this whole john edwards thing has at least some slight undertones of hypocrisy. while i don't think there are any statements by Edward's opposing marriage equality based on a desire to 'protect the sanctity of marriage', he *did* say that his opposition to queers tying the marriage knot was rooted in his religious upbringing. which feels like kinda the same thing. i am just so tired of this "pick-and-choose-which-biblical-reference-suits-your-needs" in the daylight hours and then "let's-toss-that-gideon-bible-out-of-the-hotel-room-window-and-fast" in the nightime.

i don't know what this post is all about it. i'm sure you don't either, and for that, i apologize. these are all barely-caffeinated thoughts. i guess i'm just finding myself in that dreadful place called You Can't Have It Both Ways. even thought i want to say that someone's personal life should be off-limits, i can't, because i think it becomes relevant when that same personal life directly conflicts with their very public statements and actions around their politics. i despise hypocrits, and i especially despise powerful hypocrits who get paid to make decisions about me and for me. in my particular case, their arguments against making me a First Class Citizen almost always have Morality as the showcase talking point. again, it all just reeks with very stinky irony.

maybe the answer is a compromise. if you have a messy, um, bedroom, that's your shit to deal with. but keep the bedroom out of your politics. if you're having affairs on the side, or if you're paying for sex, or if you're finding true lust in airport restrooms, good for you. but maybe you should become a champion for roads and highways and bridges, oh my, or wind-power, or, like, saving your favorite endangered species or something. stay away from stuff like marriage amendments and, for chrissake, don't wax poetic and use phrases like 'i am doing this because i believe in protecting the sanctity of marriage.' it's a bullshit statement that seems to continually come out the mouths of the most self-righteous, morally bankrupt, cheating, lying liars in the world whose own "marriages" are a complete and utter sham. the gay and lesbian couples i know, and there are thousands of 'em, would bring real class, reverence and credibility to this whole marriage thing.

'cause they. get. it. they believe marriage is about stuff like, hmmm, commitment. and monogamy. and family. and love.

what a radical idea.

Friday, August 08, 2008

i'm building a queer ark

thanks to dawn from mdi for sending me this, well, kind of depressing radar shot of today's weath-uh.

ah, the rain. i would not be a Proper Maine Blogg-uh if I did not dedicate at least one post to the current Real Weather we are experiencing here. "Real Weath-uh"...a favorite phrase of my dad's, and one that Mr. Macrum reminded me of over there at Lost in the Bozone.

the thing is...i don't really know what to say about it. i don't know if it's coincidental or by design, but since my return to work on Wednesday, my creative juices have gone and dried up again. i was damn near posting two a day for awhile. and now...i got nothin' people.

so, yeah, it looks like it's gonna be a wet weekend. fine with me. jenny jeez has inspired me to re-watch The Sopranos from The Beginning, *and* i've got a hot date with Mary Louise Parker and Season 3 of Weeds. (translation: coinciding with my current creative dry spell is an empty social calendar. um. yeah.) it's all about Couch Potato Land this weekend. Netflix will, indeed, be my saving grace from an otherwise washed-out saturday and sunday.

and maybe the rain will eventually whet (pun absolutely intended here) my creative whistle and i'll post some deep, meaningful, life-affirming thoughts on the slant. more bizarre things have happened. stay tuned.

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

paris for president

Last week, John McCain launched an ad comparing Democratic rival Barack Obama to Hilton and Britney Spears, suggesting Obama was no more than a celebrity candidate unready to lead the nation:

This week, Paris Hilton responded in this rather hysterically funny ad from Funny or Die, one of my favorite procrastination-inducing websites. My favorite line is her opener: "Hey America, I'm Paris Hilton and I'm a celebrity, too. Only I'm not from the olden days and I'm not promising change like that other guy. I'm just hot."

Funny, funny stuff.

See more Paris Hilton videos at Funny or Die

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

treadmill kitty

back to work tomorrow...which is probably gonna make me feel like...hmmm...a kitty on a treadmill (jane! stop this crazy thing). that there was a George Jetson reference by the way.

thanks to johnny for sending me this video.
happy tuesday y'all.

Sunday, August 03, 2008

the wind down

loved the 1:00 am massive thunderstorm that plowed through portland this morning. i may have actually slept through it if oscar hadn't jumped on my chest and burrowed himself under the covers after an especially loud clap of thunder. once i was awake threw on a sweatshirt and went outside on the porch and watched the show for at least a half an hour. it was...fantastic. and then crawled back into bed and was lulled back to sleep by the amazing sound of the rain. (and as i sit here type, type, typing away, another one is rolling in. it's just *pouring* rain outside and i love. it. oscar has again managed to dig himself under the covers and is curled around my feet at this moment. i can feel his tail thumping around like mad, his very-good-imitation of The Cowardly Lion on full display. he's *such* a Scaredy Cat. i am utterly amazed he mustered the courage to catch Poor 'Ole Fritz.)

this afternoon i'm heading to Shapleigh...and I'm going to try and soak in the next two days at home for all their worth. my mom is feeling good and this will be the first real quality time we've spent together since she's been out of the hospital. my oldest niece (see: Heirs), who's working at a summer camp, is home for the weekend, and this is our last chance to hang out together before she's off to college in September. (the fact that my baby girl is a soon-to-be freshman in college is worthy of a post in and of itself. it's been rolling around in my head for awhile now. stay tuned.) we won't have our entire family under the same roof again until Thanksgiving, and after everything we've been through with my mom, i am acutely aware of how precious that is. im going to savor every minute of it.

and so i am on the tail end, the wind down, the back side of my time away from All Things Work. i've been trying desperately not to count backwards (you know, in 72 hours i'll be an Official Professional Queer again), but it's kind of impossible. i'm glad i added an extra two days to the time off, but M. was right...two weeks would have been ideal. still...i slid right into vacation mode from the beginning, and it's been, for the most part, medicine for my soul. hopefully i'm regenerated enough to jump back into the fire and get the work. done.

mchottie remarked the other night "you know if i won the lottery i would leave medicine in a minute and still find plenty of things to do." i get that. boy, do i ever. in My Perfect World, with a winning lottery ticket in my pocket, i'd cut a big check to EQME, i'd set my mom and dad up BIG TIME, and then i'd...hmmm...find myself a radical radio station and become The Next Rachel Maddow. and write The Novel. yes indeedy.

but hey, you gotta *play* the lottery to *win* the lottery, right? and no one is given the keys to The Perfect World, clearly. i cannot complain. i've spent some time over this last week or so really looking at the world around me, and while i still have some holes to fill, i've got a pretty rich life. i just need to learn how to balance (and/or separate) work from Everything Else. i discovered this vacation that i'm pretty fond of the Darlene who isn't carrying her Professional Queer Card in her pocket all the time. who isn't constantly making lists and then working like a dog to cross items off them. who can close her eyes at night and not have those same lists running through her head. i've had a very deep sense of...hmmm...inner peace...since about Day Two of this vacation, and i don't want that to disappear completely come Wednesday.

anyway...those are my early morning thoughts. a fresh cup of coffee and the New York Times crossword puzzle are callin' my name now.

here's a sampling of what's playing at The Slant House this morning. john mayer's cover of 'free falling', a song that always reminds me of long ago and far away, and driving my old toyota corolla, with DB next to me and her beautiful little boy singing his heart out in the back seat. mayer's version is just lovely.

happy sunday y'all.

Friday, August 01, 2008

all i really want

i'm crushing on alanis and jagged little pill all over again. it's playing constantly at home and in lady bug's car. since Vacation Day One.

i almost forgot how. much. i. love. this. cd.

and all i need now is intellectual intercourse
a soul to dig the hole much deeper
and i have no concept of time other than it is flying
if only i could kill the killer...

may he, or um, she, rest in peace

fritz/fritzess is no more.

Oscar presented him/her to me this morning. while i was drinking coffee. just plopped the little thing down at my feet and then let out an Oscar Meow i have never heard before. look mom, i brought you breakfast! he seemed very, very pleased (oscar, that is. fritz/fritzess was just very, very dead.) and then he rolled around on the floor next to the little mouse carcass, basking in his glorious conquest. what i *wanted* to say was 'i cannot believe it took you this long.' i mean good freaking gawd, this little rodent has managed to squat here for what, a month or more?

but you never look a gift horse, er, gift cat, in the mouth. (what the fuck does that actually mean??) remembering that my dad used to praise our cats every time they brought similar gifts to the doorstep in shapleigh ("you have to darl, this is a present from them to you, and you need to let them know you appreciate it"), i thanked him profusely in my Oscar voice, which sounds similar to the voice adults use to talk to that the adults sound like blubbering idiots? yeah. that's the stuff.

it should be noted that Willie looked, hmmm, dejected and rejected. like it was his mouse to own and his big brother beat him to it.

i properly disposed of fritz/fritzess.

may he/she have a fortunate rebirth.

editor's note:

Stories behind Famous Sayings


Who Said It: St. Jerome

When: 400 A.D.

The Story behind It: This proverb is based on the fact that a horse's value is determined by his age, which, in turn, can be roughly determined by an examination of his teeth. The message conveyed is that a gift should be appreciated for the thought and spirit behind it, not according to its value. St. Jerome, who never accepted payment for his writings, first used the phrase in reply to his literary critics. His exact words: "Never inspect the teeth of a gift horse."