I woke Saturday morning to giggling voices snuggling my neck. There were little people in bed with me. My niece and nephew were delighted to find their auntie Sheff asleep in a bedroll on the floor, so they crawled in with me. Their father, a big bear of a man, appeared on the scene before I could force my eyes open. I heard him say, You guys leave her alone. He whisked them away before I could respond. It was a nice way to wake up especially after an evening of debauchery. Yes, it was PTI weekend. Most of the walking wounded were still asleep. Bodies were scattered about our hostess rather large home. After coffee, a number of members were assessing the evenings losses. MIAs included a cell phone and an I POD, along with the dignities of a few. Hey, it happens. I deserve some kind of award for being the least hung-over and still having a damn fine time.
The evening started with food, drinks and socializing with new members. Around 8pm, we loaded on to a party bus and headed to the Ritz Carlton. I think the hotel was a little overwhelmed by 19 women showing up at one time and causing a stir. I met a nice Swedish engineer and enjoyed a good bottle of merlot that the bartender neglected to add to any bill. Two thumbs way up! Next, we went to my least favorite place on earth. Im going to try to be brief because it doesnt deserve that much of my attention. The Compound nightclub is the most revolting, disgusting, trashy place full of posing fools. The weapons check of my purse was welcomed because if I had had a gun in my possession while in that club I would have used it on myself to end my misery. Thanks for saving my life club security. We didnt leave soon enough.
A local member suggested that we go to the Clermont Lounge, so away we went. You dont know anything about this place so let me try to explain. If the Ritz is the top (in some minds) then the Clermont is the bottom (in some minds). It is a tiny, dingy club at the base of a seedy hotel where one of the strippers has worked for over thirty plus years. Yeah, its your grandma naked smacking her ass for you. And I loved it! I had a great time, the most fun of the entire night. My friends all got tables in the corner but not me. I sat at the bar. They served Guinness, heaven, Im in heaven. I liked that the strippers were real women, a little overweight, some older, some younger, sans the implants, very old school. The men at the bar were lots of fun and very respectful of me and the ladies dancing. Some of them gave me money to tip the strippers. I had my own money guys, but thanks. I met a handsome man (he sort had that Sam Rockwell thing going on) and we talked about music and film until the bar closed. Im going to call this guy Sam. Sam, I liked the way you took my face in both your hands to kiss me goodnight. I liked the way you went to the door to leave but returned before my friends could collect me and kissed me like that again. The big romantic gestures work for me. I love them. I bet you thought that I was too tipsy to remember details like that, think again Sam. It was a pleasure spending time with you.
The PTI weekend was a success. No major causalities. I wish that I could see the girls more often.
Sheff
Sheff
Monday, June 26, 2006
Casualty
For the second time this spring a baby bird has fallen out of its nest and into my care. They die. Thats what happens, its natures way. I fight nature. I struggle to save them. I place them out the reach, away from the cats, and I attempt to make their passing easy. Why do I bother? Do I feel like the bird, helpless, exposed to predators, removed from all nurturing? This one is brown, tiny, some down still clinging to the sides of his head. Hes taking the water and mushy food through an eyedropper. I made him a nest in one of my plants. He doesnt appear injured like the last bird. Im sure hell be dead by morning and Ill bury him just like his predecessor. All for nothing, pointless, futile. Who am I comforting the bird or me? I am the bird.
Weekend With PTI
Ive been keeping my weekend plans on the down low because wellthey may be a source of some embarrassment later. I belong to a club of sorts called PTI (Party Train International). Its a group of professional women and a few men who get together in various locals (in and outside the U.S to ahparty). Last year we spent a week in Mexico. I got into a little trouble a few years ago in New York when we gather there. Ive been receiving email from our procurement officer the last couple of weeks. I failed to bring any new recruits into the fold, much to my shame.
So far, we have 19 members descending on Atlanta, Georgia this Friday. Im not happy about the nightclub choices, but Ill manage. Im not looking forward to a massive hangover, so Im not going to let them push me into overdrive (Shimmer Boogie is the worst at pushing the alcohol consumption). Well, Im sure Ill have some fun stuff to blog about. Heres some examples of these emails Ive been receiving: (Im violating club rules by posting these. I hope they dont kick me out. Nah.. Im too much fun.
The Body Glitter and black mini skirts have been bought, the limo has been rented, VIP passes procured
We plan to have three stops with two different return trips
That way those who meet some hot guy and want to party until the wee hours of the am can do so, while those who feel they turn into a pumpkin round midnight can go
Due to our large number, we will have an itinerary that we will be sticking pretty close to as the night goes on (until of course, I get drunk and totally forget about the itinerary)..Long story short..this isnt the marines, we leave our comrades behind.. if you get drunk and miss the bus because you are in the corner with some guy..well we will be happy for ya but probably wont wait long.
Am I getting too old for this behavior? Is it time I found a nice guy and settled down? No, wait I did that already and its not working out so good. Lovely to have friends who encourage my bad behavior. Well, Mistress Sheffield aka Holly Go Drunkly will be in the sunny south this weekend. Yall come see us, ya hear!
Currently listening: With Teeth By Nine Inch Nails Release date: By 03 May, 2005
So far, we have 19 members descending on Atlanta, Georgia this Friday. Im not happy about the nightclub choices, but Ill manage. Im not looking forward to a massive hangover, so Im not going to let them push me into overdrive (Shimmer Boogie is the worst at pushing the alcohol consumption). Well, Im sure Ill have some fun stuff to blog about. Heres some examples of these emails Ive been receiving: (Im violating club rules by posting these. I hope they dont kick me out. Nah.. Im too much fun.
The Body Glitter and black mini skirts have been bought, the limo has been rented, VIP passes procured
We plan to have three stops with two different return trips
That way those who meet some hot guy and want to party until the wee hours of the am can do so, while those who feel they turn into a pumpkin round midnight can go
Due to our large number, we will have an itinerary that we will be sticking pretty close to as the night goes on (until of course, I get drunk and totally forget about the itinerary)..Long story short..this isnt the marines, we leave our comrades behind.. if you get drunk and miss the bus because you are in the corner with some guy..well we will be happy for ya but probably wont wait long.
Am I getting too old for this behavior? Is it time I found a nice guy and settled down? No, wait I did that already and its not working out so good. Lovely to have friends who encourage my bad behavior. Well, Mistress Sheffield aka Holly Go Drunkly will be in the sunny south this weekend. Yall come see us, ya hear!
Currently listening: With Teeth By Nine Inch Nails Release date: By 03 May, 2005
Mr J. or Jay
The least you can do when you promise to love someone forever is to write a blog about them, so here goes. Day two in San Francisco started out very early. We went to Golden Gate Park and visited the Japanese Tea Garden, walked through Haight Asbury ( Dad & Sis old stomping grounds), went Fishermans Warf (clam chowder in sourdough bowls), and then more shopping before taking the train back to Atherton.
It was while shopping that I ran into Mr. J. or Jay Allen (not sure which). Mr. Allen asked me if I liked the bracelet that he was trying on. I said yes and suggested that he buy said bracelet. He told me that he detected a slight accent and asked if I was originally from Texas. I told him no and that I in fact held Texas personally responsible for the current fiasco that was our government. He laughed and said that he liked my politics. He proceeded to place a bracelet that matched his on my wrist and purchase it for me if I promised to love him forever. I should mention that Mr. Allen was not some young stud but a very nice, very gay, older man with a hint of cocktails on his breath. I thanked him with a hug for the gift. He then proceeded to assure me that this was not a pick up but he wanted to take me shopping at Nordies. This is the point where things got a little weird and wonderful, but with my sister in tow off to Nordies, we went.
Mr. Allen really liked my taste in fashion and it became increasingly clear that if I was the type to take advantage, I could take advantage. It was hard to say no especially when he and I both went crazy over a DKNY dress that they were just then putting in the window. It had the greatest pair of boots, (black, platform soles, spike heels), with the dress. Heavy sighs rang from us both. This inspired us to run to the shoe department. My sister was getting suspicious of Mr. Allen and she thought he was either a pervert or a serial killer. While in shoes, we were greeted by two Nordstrom managers who were very familiar with Mr. Allen. Apparently, he is a good and frequent customer. I tried on another great pair of shoes. Platform sandals with an ankle strap, very 1940s. They were on sale for $90. Mr. Allen was insistent but my sister was too. Through clenched teeth she said, You are not letting that man buy you shoes. I could see it if we were having drinks and he was an asshole. The logic fails me. It seemed that she was saying if he were a jerk, Id have her permission to roll the poor fellow, but since he was a nice man who genuinely liked me, I could not accept his gifts. I declined the shoes saying that I would have difficulty walking in them (big lie, I would have walked through fire for and in those shoes and looked great doing so). Sweet fellow that he was he picked out a pair with a lower heel. I said no again and claimed that if we didnt stop shopping my sister and I would miss our train. And so ended my shopping trip with Mr. J. or Jay Allen.
Mr. Allen I had a blast. The world needs more people like you, generous and kind. I get many complements on the bracelet and it reminds me that sometimes-complete strangers can connect. Be well and thank you for the lovely memory.
Love and Kisses,
Sheff
It was while shopping that I ran into Mr. J. or Jay Allen (not sure which). Mr. Allen asked me if I liked the bracelet that he was trying on. I said yes and suggested that he buy said bracelet. He told me that he detected a slight accent and asked if I was originally from Texas. I told him no and that I in fact held Texas personally responsible for the current fiasco that was our government. He laughed and said that he liked my politics. He proceeded to place a bracelet that matched his on my wrist and purchase it for me if I promised to love him forever. I should mention that Mr. Allen was not some young stud but a very nice, very gay, older man with a hint of cocktails on his breath. I thanked him with a hug for the gift. He then proceeded to assure me that this was not a pick up but he wanted to take me shopping at Nordies. This is the point where things got a little weird and wonderful, but with my sister in tow off to Nordies, we went.
Mr. Allen really liked my taste in fashion and it became increasingly clear that if I was the type to take advantage, I could take advantage. It was hard to say no especially when he and I both went crazy over a DKNY dress that they were just then putting in the window. It had the greatest pair of boots, (black, platform soles, spike heels), with the dress. Heavy sighs rang from us both. This inspired us to run to the shoe department. My sister was getting suspicious of Mr. Allen and she thought he was either a pervert or a serial killer. While in shoes, we were greeted by two Nordstrom managers who were very familiar with Mr. Allen. Apparently, he is a good and frequent customer. I tried on another great pair of shoes. Platform sandals with an ankle strap, very 1940s. They were on sale for $90. Mr. Allen was insistent but my sister was too. Through clenched teeth she said, You are not letting that man buy you shoes. I could see it if we were having drinks and he was an asshole. The logic fails me. It seemed that she was saying if he were a jerk, Id have her permission to roll the poor fellow, but since he was a nice man who genuinely liked me, I could not accept his gifts. I declined the shoes saying that I would have difficulty walking in them (big lie, I would have walked through fire for and in those shoes and looked great doing so). Sweet fellow that he was he picked out a pair with a lower heel. I said no again and claimed that if we didnt stop shopping my sister and I would miss our train. And so ended my shopping trip with Mr. J. or Jay Allen.
Mr. Allen I had a blast. The world needs more people like you, generous and kind. I get many complements on the bracelet and it reminds me that sometimes-complete strangers can connect. Be well and thank you for the lovely memory.
Love and Kisses,
Sheff
San Francisco
My time in San Francisco was well spent. We checked into a terrific boutique hotel called the Commodore on Sutter Street. The hotel had a nice restaurant and a great bar. The décor was very eclectic with lots of faux painting, a very fun interior.
Because we are girls, we have shopping needs. So, after check in, and they let us check in early, (two thumbs way up Commodore Hotel) we were off to Chinatown. Purses, jewelry, and shoes oh my! Guys will never understand the shopping Jones and thats all right. We will never understand football, video games, and your porn collection. Look, well try not to bitch about your little addictions; just let us go shopping or we get fussy and thats not fun for anybody. Shopping sated for the moment, we headed back to the hotel to get dressed for our dinner with Andy. After dressing, we hit the bar for cocktails. In the bar, we met a couple of writers that we joined for drinks. Heres my shameless plug for fellow writers David Corbett and Craig Clevenger. David is a crime novelist and his new book Blood of Paradise will be published spring 07 by Random House. Craig has two fiction novels The Contortionists Handbook and Dermaphoria. David and I got into a little tug of war over the use of my sister as a character in his book. He was taking notes while we spoke. I told him that she was already a character in my book. To which he replied, We have an expression in the literary world, its called fuck you. David was laughing at the time. I said, Im familiar with that expression David and fuck you too. Are these direct quotes? Yeah, pretty much and said in jest. Writers we are so kind to one another. We left David and Craig and were hoping to join them later, but it was not to be. Sorry guys.
We took a cab to Andys new place. I am still reeling from the price of real estate in California, $565,000 for a one-bedroom apartment. How do you people survive? I dont know for sure but think the governors mansion didnt cost that much in my state. From Andys new digs, we walked to the restaurant and had a wonderful dinner. Andys in recover now so that explains why he sort fell off the radar for a while. We are very happy for him. That being said we didnt do much partying but went on a nice tour of the city and a walk in the Castro District.
Back in the hotel, my sister passed out and I went down to the lobby and blogged for about forty minutes. I entered post only to see my blog disappear into cyberspace never to be seen again. This explains why I didnt write much while I was out there. I no longer trusted those pay per computers in hotel lobbies. I want my nine bucks back you fucking cyber pirates! Im not bitter. I would really like to have the blog back. I was feeling very self reflective when I wrote it because of something Andy said over dinner. He said I built walls around myself. Im still trying to figure that out. I see myself as needy and he said that I come off as not needing anyone. I guess thats a self protection, knee jerk reaction to developing relationships. He is so insightful, but then I guess the You Can All Go Fuck Yourselves! T-shirt that I was wearing might have been a tip off. Just kidding, I dont own that shirt yet.
Because we are girls, we have shopping needs. So, after check in, and they let us check in early, (two thumbs way up Commodore Hotel) we were off to Chinatown. Purses, jewelry, and shoes oh my! Guys will never understand the shopping Jones and thats all right. We will never understand football, video games, and your porn collection. Look, well try not to bitch about your little addictions; just let us go shopping or we get fussy and thats not fun for anybody. Shopping sated for the moment, we headed back to the hotel to get dressed for our dinner with Andy. After dressing, we hit the bar for cocktails. In the bar, we met a couple of writers that we joined for drinks. Heres my shameless plug for fellow writers David Corbett and Craig Clevenger. David is a crime novelist and his new book Blood of Paradise will be published spring 07 by Random House. Craig has two fiction novels The Contortionists Handbook and Dermaphoria. David and I got into a little tug of war over the use of my sister as a character in his book. He was taking notes while we spoke. I told him that she was already a character in my book. To which he replied, We have an expression in the literary world, its called fuck you. David was laughing at the time. I said, Im familiar with that expression David and fuck you too. Are these direct quotes? Yeah, pretty much and said in jest. Writers we are so kind to one another. We left David and Craig and were hoping to join them later, but it was not to be. Sorry guys.
We took a cab to Andys new place. I am still reeling from the price of real estate in California, $565,000 for a one-bedroom apartment. How do you people survive? I dont know for sure but think the governors mansion didnt cost that much in my state. From Andys new digs, we walked to the restaurant and had a wonderful dinner. Andys in recover now so that explains why he sort fell off the radar for a while. We are very happy for him. That being said we didnt do much partying but went on a nice tour of the city and a walk in the Castro District.
Back in the hotel, my sister passed out and I went down to the lobby and blogged for about forty minutes. I entered post only to see my blog disappear into cyberspace never to be seen again. This explains why I didnt write much while I was out there. I no longer trusted those pay per computers in hotel lobbies. I want my nine bucks back you fucking cyber pirates! Im not bitter. I would really like to have the blog back. I was feeling very self reflective when I wrote it because of something Andy said over dinner. He said I built walls around myself. Im still trying to figure that out. I see myself as needy and he said that I come off as not needing anyone. I guess thats a self protection, knee jerk reaction to developing relationships. He is so insightful, but then I guess the You Can All Go Fuck Yourselves! T-shirt that I was wearing might have been a tip off. Just kidding, I dont own that shirt yet.
Calif Day 2 June 7
We got up early and walked over to Petes Coffee. Petes is the hangout for my Dad and his friends. While I was being introduced, some of the guys thought my Dad was being funny. They knew my sister. Hell they watched her grow up. It was amusing. They are an interesting group of guys and I enjoyed talking with them and answering their questions. We proceeded to some gourmet grocery store to buy supplies for our trip to Napa Valley. We had quite a spread including artichokes, tabouli, olives, sourdough bread, various dips, and cheeses.
I loved the drive to Napa. Im a green kind of gal so Im into the flora and fauna, which my pictures will attest to. We visited three wineries, Domaine Chandon, Cakebread and Silver Oak. If you visit any more than three you arent really tasting but getting drunk in Napa. We tried to show some class. My sister was in fact buying wine and shipping it home. She actually knows something about wine. Me, Im trying to improve my taste level and get away from the two buck Chuck. Well, not too far away I do have a repetition to protect. Anyway, in between wineries, we grabbed a bottle of Swanson merlot and stopped by a park in Yountsville for lunch. It was a beautiful day and a picnic under California redwoods was awesome.
After Silver Oak, we drove on to Dixon, which is referred to as lamb town because this is farm country. We spent the night in my Dads house that is under destruction/construction/renovation. My fathers rate of progress is of great concern to my sister. Given that, the other house is being bulldozed in the next few months her concerns are valid. My sister and step mom are going to ride Dad like a dime store pony until that kitchen is finished. Poor bastard. Id gladly help but I dont exactly live in the neighborhood. Dont go thinking thats and empty offer coming from a woman. This woman owns her own tile saw and Im pretty handy. (Why I am suddenly concerned that the last statement makes me sound butch, Im not. Im really very much a girly, girl. I just happen to be very capable. Which is I think the kiss of death as far as most men are concerned. Fuck, is that my problem? What do my readers think?) See I bought an old house, a foreclosure in need of many repairs, so Ive been there done that with the home improvement. (Im handy out of necessity. Dont need a man I just need the right tools. Shit, that doesnt sound right either. Look, Im all about the penis. What? I just keep digging a deeper hole dont I? Damn, I give Up!)
We visited the neighbors and had dinner in downtown Dixon (see picture of non-existent kitchen to understand why). The next morning Dad dropped us off in San Francisco.
I loved the drive to Napa. Im a green kind of gal so Im into the flora and fauna, which my pictures will attest to. We visited three wineries, Domaine Chandon, Cakebread and Silver Oak. If you visit any more than three you arent really tasting but getting drunk in Napa. We tried to show some class. My sister was in fact buying wine and shipping it home. She actually knows something about wine. Me, Im trying to improve my taste level and get away from the two buck Chuck. Well, not too far away I do have a repetition to protect. Anyway, in between wineries, we grabbed a bottle of Swanson merlot and stopped by a park in Yountsville for lunch. It was a beautiful day and a picnic under California redwoods was awesome.
After Silver Oak, we drove on to Dixon, which is referred to as lamb town because this is farm country. We spent the night in my Dads house that is under destruction/construction/renovation. My fathers rate of progress is of great concern to my sister. Given that, the other house is being bulldozed in the next few months her concerns are valid. My sister and step mom are going to ride Dad like a dime store pony until that kitchen is finished. Poor bastard. Id gladly help but I dont exactly live in the neighborhood. Dont go thinking thats and empty offer coming from a woman. This woman owns her own tile saw and Im pretty handy. (Why I am suddenly concerned that the last statement makes me sound butch, Im not. Im really very much a girly, girl. I just happen to be very capable. Which is I think the kiss of death as far as most men are concerned. Fuck, is that my problem? What do my readers think?) See I bought an old house, a foreclosure in need of many repairs, so Ive been there done that with the home improvement. (Im handy out of necessity. Dont need a man I just need the right tools. Shit, that doesnt sound right either. Look, Im all about the penis. What? I just keep digging a deeper hole dont I? Damn, I give Up!)
We visited the neighbors and had dinner in downtown Dixon (see picture of non-existent kitchen to understand why). The next morning Dad dropped us off in San Francisco.
That Explains It! June 14, 2006
Okay, heres the explanation for my California trip and the family situation. My parents divorced when I was very young, so young in fact that I have no memories of my father at all. As a screwed up adult in therapy it was suggested that I explore my background, family ECT. I claimed to have no desire to do so which caused my doctor to give me that liar, liar pants on fire look that therapist are famous for giving. Long story short, I managed having a six-year correspondence with my paternal grandmother. Grandma invited me to her anniversary party/ family reunion in New York. I went under the very false assumption that everyone in the family was aware that I was coming and they all knew about me. It turns out that I am the surprise guest. This wasnt painful or awkward for anyone involved especially my father, his wife, and my half sister that I had never met. God rest her soul, Grandma Jacobson what a card. I guess she assumed people would back out if they knew the truth and she thought it was high time we fixed the family. It all went amazingly well and the years (less than 10) that have followed have been wonderfully healing for all of us.
Fast forward to the California trip and my reasons for going, 1) Step mothers retirement party. 2) Bulldozing of half sisters family home (soon). 3) Bonding time with sister sans spouse and children. 4) Bonding time with father. 5) Introduction to father and step moms colleagues and friends (priceless). Thank you manufacturer of Zoloft (for me) and Zanax (for sis); hence the title of our little trip, The Festival of Pain Tour 2006. Yeah, I slept great, no pressure, double my dosage, sure why not, more wine. Good times, good times. I plan on blogging a day-by-day account of my adventures. Some bizarre things happened out there. I write fiction but honest to Pete I couldnt make this shit up. Im not that creative. Stay tuned.
P.S. Dad, I know youre reading this and I promise not to write anything too embarrassing. Hey what could be worse than that friend of yours coming up to me and saying, Ive known your father for blah, blah years, to which I replied, Really, thats longer than Ive known him.
Gee, I hope thats not true.
Unfortunately it is true, you and I replied in unison, laughing.
Poor man got the funniest look on his face and just walked away. You and I laughed harder. I guess theres a lot to be said for genetics.
Fast forward to the California trip and my reasons for going, 1) Step mothers retirement party. 2) Bulldozing of half sisters family home (soon). 3) Bonding time with sister sans spouse and children. 4) Bonding time with father. 5) Introduction to father and step moms colleagues and friends (priceless). Thank you manufacturer of Zoloft (for me) and Zanax (for sis); hence the title of our little trip, The Festival of Pain Tour 2006. Yeah, I slept great, no pressure, double my dosage, sure why not, more wine. Good times, good times. I plan on blogging a day-by-day account of my adventures. Some bizarre things happened out there. I write fiction but honest to Pete I couldnt make this shit up. Im not that creative. Stay tuned.
P.S. Dad, I know youre reading this and I promise not to write anything too embarrassing. Hey what could be worse than that friend of yours coming up to me and saying, Ive known your father for blah, blah years, to which I replied, Really, thats longer than Ive known him.
Gee, I hope thats not true.
Unfortunately it is true, you and I replied in unison, laughing.
Poor man got the funniest look on his face and just walked away. You and I laughed harder. I guess theres a lot to be said for genetics.
Calif Day One
left hand spread June 6th 2006 Im on my fathers computer and its late. Well, its late considering how much has happened today. We landed around 11am, drove back to Menlo, walked the grounds and we were introduced to everybody. Then we went to a party in Palo Alto. The people who were hosting the party had their dog tied up in the backyard. During some speeches he was making quite a fuss. I saw that his leg was tangled so I went over to untangle him. He repaid the favor by peeing on me. It could only happen to me. Tonight my Dad and stepmothers dog is very interested in my shoes. After the party we came back to Menlo. Later Ali and I drove back to Palo Alto for dinner. We went to a nice restaurant near Sanford. In the morning we are off to Napa. Ali and I are calling this trip The Festival of Pain. Its a very long story and involved story but my family situation is a bit unusual. When Im not so tired maybe Ill share. The family history explains a lot and others may make sense of me when they read the details. I wish knowing the tale helped me understand myself, it doesnt. I hope I can sleep tonight. Later, A very tired Shef
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