PlazaJen: Passion Knit

Boy, it's been a blur. We saw Avenue Q on Tuesday, and it was fabulous. So, so funny. It was also fun to be out and about & doing something different. Plus, the entire crowd was so diverse. And let's face it: there's just nothing like some puppet sex to make your week stand out. (Make that: Tony Award-Winning Puppet Sex!)

Yesterday was busy, and then I had a surprise client meeting, so whoosh! I barely remember what happened. I got everything done & pulled together and everything went well, she's a great client & all - but I felt my gears starting to slip late in the day, and most of my night was spent zombie-like. Except for when Suzy started to FLIP. OUT. The growling and the low barking and the borderline-alarm was enough to get me out into the breezeway to investigate what was going on.

And well she should be on High Alert: there were THREE cop cars and an ambulance lined up in the street in front of our house. I watched and watched, with a low-growling Suzy by my side. I'm still not clear on what exactly happened (I'm not one of those neighbors who just strolls out and starts asking, "What's goin' on?" To me that seems like a great way to get caught in some strange takedown by the po-po, or perhaps, shot.)

I did see one officer eventually make it into the house across the street, and noticed that just like on tv, he did NOT turn the lights on. I could see his flashlight bobbling all around their kitchen area. I have always thought that was nuts, like why do they walk around in the dark with a flashlight, hm? Why wouldn't you turn on the lights? I'm still pondering that one, though one theory may be someone is waiting for you & would have some level of an advantage while your cop eyeballs adjusted to the light change? I dunno. Someone needs to find this out. I always thought it was movie/tv silliness! Anyway, the whole drama unfolded over about half an hour, and they wheeled a stretcher up to the house & took someone out, though I think she was alive. I felt bad, because this is the woman from the Hose Incident, and her mom died less than a month ago. I think she's at least a bubble off, and perhaps on some sort of chemical most of the time, so I just don't know the full story. But she seemed to be yelling (her other favorite thing to do) the whole way into the bambalance, so I trust she's still alive.

In other news, I was surprised to find my very liberal, pro-union self thinking this whole Hollywood writer's strike is just stupid. Maybe it's because I have a really hard time feeling sorry for people who make $200,000 a year. However, I also don't feel sorry for studio executives who rake it in hand-over-fist, just for bringing brain-sucking dreck to our television sets. (See: Viva Laughlin.) I feel sorry for all the people who make $24,000 a year who depend on those people being employed, and who will suffer because the Rich are picketing against the Super Rich. When do the worker bees get to go on strike because Gary Forsee gets a $54 million SEVERANCE package? See, in the "real world", the one where going out for sushi is a :treat:, not a lifestyle, when someone doesn't like your work performance? You get fired. Maybe get a couple weeks in pay and any vacation earned. You worry about paying a mortgage that is the equivalent of these writers' cars. Or Gary Forsee's nail clippings. I realize I'm mixing up ye olde issues here, but I just have a hard time believing that someone like a sitcom writer or Gary Forsee are worth millions and millions and millions of dollars, when we have soldiers without proper equipment and armor, fighting a mistaken war, or teachers, who don't even get paid hazard pay, who have to watch out for Kill Lists, or even police officers, who walk into dark houses and wonder if they're going to get shot at, or even have to deal with a sopping wet crazy lady who needs to be carted off to the loony bin.

Apparently I'm more than "still kickin'". I'm kickin' ass and bitchin', too.

Labels: rants