Thursday, October 28, 2010

crazy, goofy, spooky azz day.....

Today has been a weird one. I was gonna write to Kasey, but I realized, maybe ALL of you are having a goofy azz day too?

Like, I get down to the dump and the dude is not around to punch my card (2 and change bucks per bag) and so I am driving away and this mad guy in uniform pops up behind my car and I am like OH SHOOT, is he gonna call the cops or take my plate? ( a) other cars pulled up and I saw in the mirror he got busy with them, and b) what was he doing, picking his nose somewhere, not doing his job?) Then I am like, all looking for the cops and blow a red light AND then blow a stop sign and realize it is a good time to chill at the store 'cause I am in a weird mood obviously, and run into a friend whose daughter has a huge cast on her arm---so sad, broken to the nth degree! poor sad little girl BUT THEN I get home and there is a beautiful but dead cat dead on the street, not familiar to me, but I talk to Chris across the road, who is about to bury him, and Chris tells me he was really upset because he had been playing with cat the night before, and then today? Flattened. He is super upset--he could have, what? Brought the cat in? I dunno. And now the weather is going bananas---from hot and sunny to this crazy stormy stuff....thanks for listening, and before you read the below, how is YOUR day? Please go to comments and say.
Yesterday I get this spacy email, I respond, then the lady writes back this morning. I think, perhaps, tis a stoner with a computer...

Subject: Help?
Date: Tuesday, October 26, 2010, 8:44 PM

Hi Gary.

After a last-ditch effort to save my 9th wedding anniversary, I Googled "pottery" and Beastie Boys. *Poof* There you were.

"Pottery being the traditional 9th anniversary gift and "Beastie Boys" being my husband's life-long addiction to, well, everything Beastie. I could write volumes and chapters about his passion (er, obsession) to the Boys from Brooklyn but I'll spare you.

You're welcome.

Nonetheless, any suggestions as to what I get a 30-something, vegetarian, loves the Beasties, Star Wars and baseball????
(They say women marry versions of their Fathers. Of course, I ended up marrying a version of my little brother. *sigh*.)

I've been searching online endlessly, for the last two weeks trying to find the perfect gift. This is very important to me as he one-ups me every time. Last year was bronze. I gave him a little plaque with his name on it with a heart. He gave me a replica of the bronze star my Grandfather received in WWII while serving in Germany. . . engraved. . . and signed by one of the last remaining men alive in his platoon. Yeah. Really. I felt like an ass. I should mention, this is in no way a competition but I'm not an emotional shopper and need some guidance if you would be so kind with a suggestion or two. My anniversary is 11/28.

Should you not respond, I completely understand. After all, I assume you don't get too many emails from desperate women. Or maybe you do.

I'll be quiet now.



On Oct 27, 2010, at 7:27 AM, Gary Rith wrote:

I get emails from desperate women every day :) people need POTS.

I have been doing a lot with skulls lately. Some people say that there is something special about skulls and hearts? it is a very punk aesthetic. there are a couple examples if you click the etsy gallery below plus the small teapot in the attd. pic :)

Any thoughts????
Thanks very much, gr

I can't believe you replied to that. Indeed, you are a really nice guy. Or just bored. lol!
You wouldn't happen to make water bongs FOR TOBACCO USE, would you? Know someone who does? I'm halfway perusing your work. . . You're a talented guy!!! Took a pottery class 13 years ago but the teacher suggested I try writing instead.

Thanks for your suggestions, Gary. Should I ever purchase pottery it will be from you.



k.a. barnes said...

Oy vey!
You've got my day beat so far.
The weirdest thing that happened was when I walked by a cute little old lady at work today & said hello, she made the weirdest noise back as some sort of greeting. Sort of half-laugh, half-grunt. It made me laugh, then worry that I tucked my skirt into my underpants or something that was giving her cause to laugh at me.
Oh and Minchy is in the throes of steroids and is VORACIOUS and has now stooped to manipulating me for food. He flinched this morning when I was stroking his back and went to his little bed and acted all sad and weak and I FREAKED out that he re-hurt his back and told Brett to keep him on lock-down in the house. A few hours later, Brett gave him a full-body rub-down with nary a squeak. I don't appreciate being the target of my dog's mind games.

George and Maureen Johnson said...

LOL LOL Your day is certainly weird, isn't it wonderful being an artist though. We get in touch with the most UNIQUE people at times. You should of worked at the Pet Store with us, now those were some strange days, "LIke every minute" lol lol...:) We had one student who made pipes for tobacco George and I would care in the least. I don't care if they make sex lol :) As long as we don't get the details, or have to make :)

Gary's third pottery blog said...

It was a crazy morning here, but I have spent the afternoon making one piggy bank after another, and DANG that settles you down, chills you out, zen zones your mind :) I remember 9/11 (today is NOT like that, but you know, I was nervous then too) I had a zillion piggy banks to finish and I got that zen zone thing going. The only thing you can do: before 5pm, make piggies. After 5pm, hit the bottle ;0

Reverend Awesome said...

My day hasn't been too crazy. We're leaving in a few minutes to go pick out pumpkins to carve tomorrow.
The elevator stopped on more floors than usual this morning.
My body is still effed up from adjusting itself to being 5 hours behind. When does daylight savings end? I'm tired of saving daylight! Basically, I'm just tired. This winter is going to be a big winter for hibernation. I'll just bulk up and stay in the house like a bear.
Also, I kind of love this lady that's been emailing you. She sounds fun.