I think I'm becoming addicted to Ebay - selling, that is. While I was ecstatic that my Victorian blessed me with oodles of storage space, it now means that I'm extracting eight years of stuff that I had forgotten I even owned. Old calendars I always meant to tear apart and frame the photos; a hand-me-down waterbed my brother purchased in his wild stud early 20's; a 13" television; collapsible steel dog crate for my claustrophobic greyhound; my collection of vintage 1979 Strawberry Shortcake dolls; a small library worth of books.....I could go on endlessly.....

Sure, I could have a moving sale, going to in fact, but there's something deflating in reducing your life to nickel and dime increments, how you'll let some aggressive shopper talk you down on the unicorn music box your first boyfriend bought you when you were 13. The whole situation makes me want to buy one of those greasy handlebar mustaches curled up at the ends like the stereotypical carnival barker or snake oil salesman. It just doesn't seem very dignified.

So I turned to ebay. I waded through their process and scoured for fifteen minutes for their list of seller fees (I'm convinced they don't really want you to find that thing!) and posted my first set of auctions. The next day I posted a couple more. Then a few more.

THEN I discovered you could buy Victoria's Secret clothes on ebay...Bad Cristy, Bad Bad Cristy....

Checking "My Ebay" a couple of days later I was hit with the knowledge that I had more than fifty bucks coming my way - and there were still days left on all my auctions. How many five cent paperbacks would I have to hock out of my driveway to equal that? (Rhetorical, don't bother with the math). So I posted another one, and today four more. I'm starting to look at everything as possible online auction fodder - cassettes from the 80's, a Spuds Mackenzie beer mug, old bowling balls, past issues of Penthouse forum...this nylon sexual harness/cradle/strappy deal someone bought me years ago as a joke and I tucked away in the corner of a cedar chest in hopes that no wayward boy would stumble upon it and embarass us both by wanting to try it out....I mean, throwing out a perfectly unused sexual device seems wasteful, but then again so does stashing it away somewhere. What to do? Ebay and hope for the best, waking in a cold sweat each night with the thought of my father entering the winning bid? The alternative denies some sexually adverturesome sort her fun which just doesn't seem very sporting either. Could I re-gift, slipping it into my sister-in-law's stocking, thereby earning my brother's lifelong gratitude, or would it be better to inflict it on some unsuspecting garagesaler in search of a dog restraint? My mind reels with the possibilities - or maybe that's just the ebay seller buzz...

As if moving isn't stressful enough, somehow my high school class reunion was tossed smack dab in the midst of it all. A good friend of mine was the senior class president so not only did she talk me into attending, she tricked me into being on the committee (Hey, she asked me to come up with a songlist for the DJ and next thing I knew, my damn name was attached to this monstrosity). I adore my NYC book publicist friend, especially when she entertains me with tales of "unfortunate" coughing fits in a limo with Mario Cuomo, so I forgive her.

Truth be told, I hated high school. This really should come as no shock to anyone who has had so much as three minutes of my company; I speak with nothing but derision of my rural upbringing. In fact, when I met my dear friend the day before the reunion at the intended site for lunch and final details, I sat in my yuppie VW Jetta (also quite the contradiction to my associates, but it suites my pampered Leo personality - and the Monsoon sound system kicks ass.) and marveled that I had ever spent so much as a single night in the barren redneck village, miles away from the nearest Target, Chinese take-out and library.  It's no wonder my adolescence was so turbulent; I was being destroyed by the lack of decent stimulation.

Instead of feeling either inferior or insecure before my former classmates, I simply realized I had nothing to say to them.  I didn't care what menial job they held to pay their bills, or whether they had found love, bred children, or where they called home.  Put me in a room of total strangers and I'll find at least a few to laugh with and hoist glasses and generally whittle away the time. But these people? I have such apathy that I'm not sure I'd throw them a floatation device if they were drowning.

So, is it wrong that for five hours I played with our DJ Dwayne, making him a nametag that said "I'm the DJ!" so he could get drinks gratis, and bellied up to the bar with two very drunk locals who amused me far more than the alumni combined?  In fact, the only real conversation I had was with my ex-boyfriend whom I dated from the end of my senior year of high school to the end of my sophmore year of college. It was a great reminder that while our relationship was never meant for adulthood, our friendship was always real - and so is our disdain for the dumbasses we went to school with. I suppose, in the end, not a horrible way to end things.

What saddens me is that there are a few, and I do mean FEW, of my classmates with whom I think I could enjoy myself under different circumstances; if we ran into each other in public away from the ghosts of adolescent cliques past, but we won't. We exist in different worlds now, and maybe that's how it should be.  I just know that from here on out, they'll have to devise their own songlists because I'll be spending my time in my life with the people I choose to have in it.

 

Kimmie and I waited til exactly 12:23pm before breaking out the vodka. By 2pm, we were in the kiddie pool naked (stay tuned for semi-censored photos). After a few hours, I wrapped a towel around myself to refill our empty glasses. At that point, the fatigued SO came in the door - after seeing Kimmie nekkid in the pool.
 
Him: Anything exciting happen today?
 
Me: Well, I accidently flashed the neighbor.
 
Yeah that's not surprising, he says as he disappears up the stairs....

Highlights of the evening (compiled by both the Sirens):
 

• Having not one but two men tell us we were beautiful when we stopped at the liquor store for provisions.
• Very cute Irish Boston boys taking care of us, the drummer of which gave Kimmie a big smooch on the lips!
• Two, count them TWO, women hit on Cristy. One kept going on about how "gorgeous" and "sexy" she was while the other ran her hand up her bare leg - twice. Cristy wonders when the exact moment occured that she became attractive to women...
• Teasing boys with the image of us in the kiddie pool clad in nothing but bras and panties (it happened folks and will probably happen again!)
• Meeting (and impressing) a band boy who has been wearing our Oh-so-cool black long sleeved tee for the past six months without ever having met us. In fact, he wore said gear while in NYC a couple of weeks ago for a showcase in front of a very important record exec.  Now if we could only get a photo of that....
• Cristy realizing in a giggly adolescent girl way that she's got a crush on a certain singer-songwriter.
• Both of us being so blind that Kimmie yelled "Hey Sexy" out the window of the car to the wrong guy as we were leaving. He smiled and waved, so at least we made his night, even though it was unintentional.

And finally - Knowing that it's July 15 and we should be updating, but also sure that our fine readership will forgive us as soon as they see the end product!

 

This past weeks itinerary (soon to be followed by detailed analysis of each event):

Saturday - airport followed by a trip to a club in The Flats

Sunday/Monday - July 4th and 5th, family time.....

Tuesday - perfected Vodka smoothies

Wednesday - Open Mic Night where we sang along with every selection. The singers were the club's entertainment and we kept the singers entertained.

Thursday - Lakewood for fabulous tacos at an Irish Pub capped off by a trip to Sandusky to visit Our Girl Rhonda

Friday - canoeing and hanging with Sergio, Kathy, Marsh, Paul, Viper and Bruce drinking mucho alcohol...

Saturday - a great Phestur set unfortunately immersed in a bunch of kids that were seemingly up past their bedtime, and a subsequent trip to Lakewood to feast on 2nd Half's Drew's lasagna!

Since Kimmie flew into town a week ago, there hasn't been one night we've stayed in. In fact, on three separate ocassions, we didn't arrive home til after dawn.

Our catch phrase of the summer:
Everything is better with Vodka.

Imagine if you will, a leggy redhead standing near a baggage carousel at 10pm on a Saturday night wearing a low slung demin skirt and peach silk halter.....yeah it drew some attention, but hey, we were hitting a club straight from the airport!

I'm sure you're tired of my attempts to educate y'all on various issues affecting our country but this is just damned important....

In approximately 10 days, Congress will be voting on the Federal Marriage Amendment, thereby making discrimation against homosexuals legally sanctioned by our government. I just sent a letter to all three of my Congressman and I urge you to do the same. See www.Congress.org to discover your Senators and Representatives and send them an email - it's that simple.

Don't let the bigots and religious right dictate policy.

(And just to re-introduce some much needed joviality - Kimmie's flying in two days! Kiddie Pool Version 2 here we come!)