So I woke up this morning, made a list of all the items I needed to review for amazon, people I need to email, etc etc, made my tea, trundled upstairs to the office….

And found that my PC has stumbled, fallen, and crashed. I knew it was coming. Why, just two days ago I talked to T about doing some surgery, wiping the hard drive clean and installing windows 2000…I’m very in touch with my system. I knew this was coming, but I would have liked just a day or two more with the little puter. Sob.

Anyway, so now I’m on Dre’s G4, which is nice and snazzy and all. But I miss my pragmatic workhorse of a PC. I’m already working on bribing Mr. Crone to come down to help me.

Let’s see, I might as well provide an update as long as I’m here. So, the Rock Star party pretty much, well, rocked! Dre was oh-so Billy Idol, I was very punk rock in my “not for sale” muscle shirt and ripped back tights, and T went for the more literal version with his “R O C K S T A R” tshirt. Oh, and Eli wore a pair of pants with a codpeice attached. HA! Anyhoo, we all drank and were merry. There was karaoke, vodka-n-red bulls, lines of flour on a mirror in the bathroom, and Scott Haapala smoking a cigarette!

Andreas got quite drunk quite quickly, and before I knew it he was passed out on Owen’s floor. I closed my eyes for a second around 2am and realized that if I closed my eyes the room started spinning, and proceeded to spend the next two and a half hours stumbling around drinking water trying to stay awake until I was less drunk. What a hoot.

Sunday was not quite as much fun…First was the incident with the waitress at the 14 Carrot cafe…She was busy, and we’d been waiting 45 for our food, and as she cleaned a table next to us I whispered “pssst…” to get her attention. She ignored me. Thinking she hadn’t heard me, I did it again: “pssst….” Still no response. One more time, “PSS—”

“YOU’RE THE SECOND TABLE TO HISS AT ME TODAY!!!” she bellowed. Er, sorry…she told us our food would be right up, and ten minutes later she set it on our table, and her irritation was palpable. Unbeknownst to me, “psst”ing at a waitress is REALLY rude, Dre told me later. I didn’t know! It’s less rude than bellowing “EXCUSE ME! EXCUSE ME!” isn’t it? Maybe not.

Then we drove downtown trying to find parking so we could go to a matinee, and after 20 minutes we finally just said “fuck it” and went into a garage….where I promtly dinged a minivan parked in the “compact” space next to ours.

Then we went into the movie theater only to find that THE FUCKING MOVIE WAS SOLD OUT. I was in a foul mood after that. Foul. No, REALLY FOUL.

That evening Dre an I went to my mother’s “Goddess Revival” performance. I’m not so sure about Goddess worshipping, and Dre is even more hesitant than I am. It just seems like the point needs to be that “God” is GENDERLESS. The lesson from patriarchy shouldn’t be that God isn’t a man–it should be that “God” isn’t an entity divided by gender. Gender is a confining product of evolution, designed to make reproduction more efficient and our gene pool more diverse….Any universal power sure as HELL isn’t held to the same physical restrictions of a body, and gender is very body-oriented.

Don’t get me wrong: I totally support earth-based spiritualities. I just don’t think that saying “oh my goddess!” is any more helpful than praying to a man with a beard in the sky. It’s reactionary. I love being a woman, and I love having times to enjoy “woman energy” all in one place (as my girly squeez party was evidence of), but I don’t think worshipping women is the way to make up for 2000 years of patriarchal religious power. It’s just shifting it the other way.

Dot and I once talked about matriarchies and patriarchies, and concluded that the most recent patriarchy is a backlash against an earlier matriarchy. Powerful ruling women can raise angry, resentful sons…who then make their own male-based religion. The key isn’t going back to a matriarchy, it’s BALANCE.

For fooksake, BALANCE.