New Years Resolutions 2005

New Years is my absolute favorite holiday - closely followed by Valentines. I've never had the intestinal fortitude it takes to reinvent myself, but I've always kinda wanted to and the New Year allows 24 hours for this fantasy. This time of year I find myself thinking about all the idealistic changes I certainly could make... and then I toss it for an achievable list of reinvention.

I after making an achievable list, I scrap it for doing whatever I happened to be doing anyhow. On second thought, that isn't really a resolution, is it? No.

"Resolutions"

• Loose 15 pounds Continue to wholly enjoy Champaign and brie from top to bottom with every atom of myself
• Go to a venue and tango holes in my shoes Take a tango class
• Have a wild love affair with a dark and dangerous somebody Get married
• Learn everything there is to know about advertising Ask more questions
• Read 12 of the Classics Read less trash and more substance
  
• Laugh more & cry less

Canada

The boy and I went to Canada yesterday, at my request. I am desperate. For speed.

To reiterate from a previous post, the only real problem with ephedra is that it works. Being a broken woman, I have no intention to describe the nefarious and collaborative deeds of the pharmaceutical industry. Deep down I am a conspiracy theorist, but grinding ones teeth and flapping ones jaws in frustration never did anything to change anything. So I don't waste my time.

The drive over the bridge to Canada was beautiful. It was late so everything was dark, except for millions of city lights on both sides of the channel, lights reflecting off the water and the stars in the sky. It was a perfectly clear night last night and because of this there was no snow accumulation today. Every northerner knows that when there is no cloud cover to act like a blanket on the sky, it is far too cold to snow.

On the other side of the bridge we encountered a lovely customs agent. She was sitting in her booth alone, her booted feet resting on her desk. She was someone's end all fantasy - long blonde hair, thin and in uniform. She had a bit of a French-Canadian accent and she interrogated us with staccato statements instead of questions.

"What's your nationality."
"Why did you come here."
"How long are you staying."
"Are you carrying any alcohol or cigarettes."

We answered truthfully; we are Americans, we came here to shop and we would stay only a few hours, we bought the obligatory liter of vodka at the duty free shop before we crossed the bridge. She asked if it was one liter between the two of us - or one liter each. We assured her it was only one between the two of us. She narrowed her blue eyes before she released us. We didn't even flinch.

The health food store we were looking for was difficult to find. We searched up and down Ouellette and Tecumseah roads (named after something French and a Native American leader respectively) Eventually we did find it, but because Canada banned ephedra too we went home empty handed.

In the back of my spice cupboard, I found a small amount of dried ephedra from the days when I worked in a health food store myself. A time when ephedra was legal and available for college students, middle class mothers and bodybuilders. I don't remember my original intention for buying bulk ephedra, but whoa, I am so glad I did. I'll make my own damn ephedra extract. Duty free liquor is the perfect ingredient for making the moonshine equivalent of diet pills.

Annual Noir Christmas Letter

Dear Friends, Relations and Acquaintances,

Merry Christmas Darlings! I just wanted to give you an update on our little family. We’ve been having a great year.

Mortimer is on a roll, thirty-eight days in a row he has vomited on the carpet every morning. Just before I wake up, he jumps off my pillow to run to the carpet (never the hard wood floor) and skillfully hacks up a hairball. Talk about dedication!

The evil kittens Willow and Feral are hard at work clawing up every piece of furniture I own. Even after trimming their claws, they have managed to destroy a two chair backs, the couch cushion and several bar stools. Currently, they are diligently working over my bedspread. With luck, they will shred every soft object in my home to a mound of thread by next year.

The Fiancé is still self-employed as the local computer guy and provoked at least two fist fights this year. It’s the bizarre combination of computer geek and brawler that continues to ever intrigue me.

February was an exciting time for me – within the same week, I was laid off for the first time ever, turned 25 and crashed my car. You know what they say about events happening in threes…well it doesn’t apply to me. I also went to court for driving under an expired license. (My Friday crash brought to light the fact that I hadn’t renewed my license from my birthday that Wednesday. Why hadn’t I renewed my license? Probably because I was in bed and drunk from being laid off on Monday that same week.)

Despite my best efforts for a second job, this dratted economy continues to keep us on the thin side monetarily. I didn’t want that Starbucks shift anyhow, or that Bed Bath and Beyond clerk position. Or that Barns and Nobles job. Linens And Things can kiss it and Pier 1 can go to hell…skinny bitches.

Well darlings, here’s to a fabulous 2005. XXOXOXX

Love and Kisses,

Noir Muse

Brie Abuse

Tonight I witnessed a partygoer mining the cheese from inside the wedge of brie - avoiding the rind. I am appalled. What are we, heathens?

A Surreal Face

I just got back from the chamber holiday party. The party was held at a member's home; clearly a wealthy member as the house was enormous with elaborate decoration. It was impressive. Or possibly oppressive. If a house could be threatening, this was a good example. Beautiful in a way, but who would have the time to keep it up? My god, it's mind boggling.

I found the liquor shortly and poured myself some champagne and pushed through the masses of ties and lapels. Business people are so stuffy. There were plenty of great foods available, but I stayed strictly with my diet of brie and truffles. Nine beautiful 17 year old girls with perfect skin and matching blue dresses sang a cappella Christmas carols. More or less it was the usual business party. People trading business cards and stuffing their faces. I wanted desperately to find the smokers, who were probably having a riot on one of the back porches. I sometimes miss that tight knit community were everyone has a dirty little social habit in common.

Then I saw a surreal, familiar face. He wasn't who I thought he was, he couldn't be - the guy I know is in Florida or Grand Rapids or Kalamazoo, never in the Detroit suburbs. The guy I know wouldn't be at a chamber party for christ's sake, he's a writer. I circled the fella in question out of curiosity. He was the right height, black hair, glasses. He had the same stance, gestures, style of being. Everything was checking out. I passed by to say hello and noticed that his name tag said "Journalist". It was a bizarre moment.

I am annoyed to mention that I didn't introduce myself. Annoyed with myself. Annoyed because he was probably an interesting person, and I didn't even try to speak with him. What would I say?

"Hi there. You wouldn't believe it, but I once knew someone who looked just like you. Seriously. (Long uncomfortable pause) So...you're a journalist - that's like, so cool. I have a weakness for writers."

Spelunking

The area between the heart of Detroit and the expansive suburbs is the urban decay. It’s a tragically fascinating situation. It looks like the ruins of a great civilization that has been repopulated with squatters and the oblivious descendants of a once powerful society.

Imagine, (or not) ghettos of dilapidated homes just falling apart, concrete lots, graffiti, broken glass, barbed wire and titty bars. Literally across the street - a magnificent building, 12 stories or so of beautiful architecture. It was once an upstanding bank or hotel but now sits there hunched down, eerily quiet. The first two stories are completely boarded up and the building is abandoned. There are many ruins like this in Detroit. Theatres, hotels and office buildings stand completely vacant with their entries bricked in and windows destroyed. They remain too expensive to renovate and too costly to demolish.

I understand there are urban spelunkers in the area who break in to poke around these dilapidated buildings. What a fascinating hobby, no? Though, at this age, it would be too much adrenaline for my taste.

Once, when I was in college and showing off for a boy, I agreed to sneak into a building closed for spring break. (Infatuation will make you do these things) He and I came in through an unlocked door in the auditorium, climbed out a window and onto the roof to survey the campus, and let ourselves in through the attic. We made our way to the basement where we imagined janitors secretly smoking cigarettes on the sagging orange couch. We tried all the doors. The unlocked dusty storage room we found had a desk pushed up against the wall.

It was empty except for a few paperclips which we shaped into hearts and kept as mementos.

Irony

Isn't it ironic that I've never had a flu shot before this year, the year of the flu shot shortage?

Thank you University of Michigan influenza vaccine study for my flu shot vaccination. When mall Santa’s, tellers, and public service workers can't even possibly get one, while seniors wait in lines for them - here I am walking around inoculated for the first time in my life. And they're paying me $100. More if I get sick. Wahoo!

At least I think I got a flu shot, it could have been the placebo.