I was flipping channels tonight, thought I'd watch a little bit of the Concert for New York, no big deal. Jesus. David Bowie was first up, and he played Heros, one of my favorite songs, so of course I'm singing along, and by the first repeat of the line "We can be heros" I start weeping. It's all just below the surface. I'm ashamed to admit it -- it feels self-indulgent. Who am I to weep? No one I know was killed, I haven't been touched, personally -- put I'm still in shock, I'm still on the edge, I still grieve for all the dead, for all the injured.... I wanted to be cynical, I want to be distanced, but I can't. Even when we're talking about something that is blatently trying to pull the heartstrings -- Billy Joel singing New York State of Mind, at the moment -- and I'm barely holding it together.

I don't know why I'm writing this. I don't know if I'll post it.

Oh, and by the way: Fucking AT&T Broadband! Yes, cable modem is still down. Grrrr.

Right. I'm finally attempting the "Get thee off thine own ass" school of freelance work, as opposed to the "Sit thee on thine ass and wait thee for work to droppest into thine lap-like region" vibe that I've had going for the last several years. A travel publisher is looking for freelancers to do updates on some of thier guidebooks, including one for Chicago. So I sent in a sample blurb, my resume, etc., and I'll see if they like me. Not that I'm going to let my entire self-worth get tied up in whether or not some random person I don't know and probably wouldn't respect picks me out of a bunch of god-know-how-many qualified people to use and abuse me and probably not pay me very well to boot. Of course not. That's what sex is for. Um, except the payment part.

Check out little.yellow.different. -- the IM converstation made me laugh my ass off. It sounded .... hauntingly familiar.

Wow. Prostitution and porn in one post. Um, can you tell my parents are far, far from a web connection at the moment?

Yes, I realize how pathetic it is for a 31-year-old woman to be saying that. Sigh. More therapy for you, my dear!

Remember the Doodle Auction at Live Bait I talked about earlier? The results are in: They made more than $42,000. Wowie. They kick ass.

To quote the press release:

DOODLE BENEFIT REELS IN THE DOUGH FOR LIVE BAIT THEATER

Generosity must be in the air! Live Bait Theater¹s 13th Annual Doodles by the Stars Benefit Auction on October 14, 2001, was their biggest yet. This year¹s raucous and fun doodle auction raised over $42,000 to support Live Bait¹s season and outreach programming.

The top grossing celebrity doodle was Paul Newman¹s self-portrait, which went for a whopping $6000. Live Bait actor Paul Turner snagged the doodle while on the set of The Road to Perdition (Turner portrays Newman¹s bodyguard in the film). Other Perdition stars that doodled for the cause of the arts included Tom Hanks, who went for $1250, and the director, Sam Mendes, $800. Other top bids included Arthur Miller, $1000; Martha Stewart, $1000; and a posthumous doodle by Jason Robards, $1000.

Go Lotti, Lizz and everyone else at Live Bait. Whoo-hoo!

Check out this story about a possible anthrax attack by the reporter at the New Tork Times who experieinced it. Oy. Scary. (You need to register, but for Christ's sake, people, it's the New York Times! It's worth it!)

Pur wee piggy.

OK, AT&T Broadband STILL sucks. What's with you people? I had Wendy, the tech goddess, come up to make sure that it wasn't something I had done. Nope. It's them. (She did, however, chastise me for never having defragmented my hard drive in the, oh, three or four years I've owned my computer. No wonder I keep experiencing the Blue Screen of Death.)

So, besides the time I spent on hold with AT&T Broadband this weekend, I've had time for

1) An epihany of sorts
2) A highly satisfactory moviegoing experience
3) Sparkley pants a-go-go

The epiphany of sorts came on Saturday, as I schlepped through the rain to Northwestern's homecoming game. As I sat there, getting wet and still more wet, I realized "Wait a second -- I don't even like football. What the hell am I doing paying $30 to sit out in the rain to watch a game I couldn't care less about?" And I had no answer to that. So, my epiphany: There is absolutly no reason for me to go to football games, even if it is homecoming, anymore. I don't like football, I don't understand the game, I'm not the slightest bit invested in who wins... Hell, I only went to three games the entire time I was in college. And they were free.

So I left before the end of the first half. We were all going over to Angie and Jordan's after the game, so I leaned over and said "Does your dog need someone to play with? Now?" And that was that.

"But Sarah," my friends argued, "don't you wnat to bond with your friends?" Yes. Yes, I do. Inside. Where we can talk. Where we are not distracted by football. Since we almost always end up at someone's house after the game, hell, I'll just meet you all there. I'll bring cookies. It'll be good.

(The only problem with the afternoon thereafter was, after my cold, damp friends got back from watching a football game, they turned on the TV to watch more frickin' football. Sigh.)

So I schlepped home to drop off the car and get downtown to meet Wendy and a friend to see Iron Monkey. I was in a pissy mood before the movie (having been rained on and subjected to football for most of the day), and I'm sure I wasn't any fun. Then the movie started. Bliss! IT KICKED ASS. Several asses. Multiple times. Wowie. Amazing fight choreography, funny and appealing characters, just enough backstory to keep things together... it was great. The story centers on a masked hero keeping the refugees of a city safe from the corrupt government. The venal governor wants to catch him, and... oh, who cares. That fight against the disgraced Shaolin monks! The fight the other guy did with the umbrella! The kid, fighting bullies and realizing "Heh! My Kung Fu is pretty good!" The chick kicking ass with the rolling carts! That final fight sequence in the flaming courtyard! Damn, it was good. See it. Wowie.

Sunday was quality time with the cats, until it was time to go to Live Bait's doodle benefit, at which I was a wall flower. Sparkely pants! Huzzah!

OK, that probably needs some explanation. The sparkley pants are, well, these beaded pants I bought on impulse with absolutly no prospect of wearing them -- I just do go to many sparkley pants venues. Then my friend Lotti, who works at Live Bait, asked for volunteers for their Doodle benefit, at which they auction off these beautifully framed doodles, autographs, whatever provided by random famous folks. This year, said famous folks included Paul Newman, Tom Hanks, Ralph Nader, Kurt Vonnegut, Bea Arthur, Valerie Bertinelli.... it runs the range, from weird has-beens to big old honkin' stars. As a Wallflower, I stood at the wall, monitored the silent auction for a group of doodles, and made sure no one came to blows. And, and! I got to be a showgirl in my sparkely pants, parading around showing off the doodles that went to live auction. Very very fun, and boy, do my feet hurt. I need to get some Sparkley Birkenstocks to go with my Sparkley Pants, instead of this heels shit. Oy.

The live auction was insane this year -- Bea Arthur sold for $400! Martha Stewwart sold for $1000! Clive Barker went for $3000! Paul Newman went for $6000! Granted, it was a great doodle, but $6000??? Wowie.

So, great night, lots of fun, but boy, my feet hurt.