The first big change this week: The pope quit. Holy crap. He says he’s sick but maybe age is giving him a new perspective on those Hitler Youth days and covering up for pedophile priests in Germany. He’ll retire to a monastery where he can meditate and start bailing out the Old Karma Boat. I wish him a long life with time to consider past choices. To all of you liberal Catholics who hold out against hope to get a ruler who’ll bring The Church into the 21th century, good luck. The Catholic Church doesn’t need liberals, except at the street level where they can look progressive.

The second goodbye started with an on-line visit for recycling my waterbed. Nobody wanted it. The Salvation Army and Goodwill turned it down and thrift stores weren’t willing to pick it up. I own a PT Cruiser, it was a bitch to haul from the store when I bought it and had a bigger car. The on-line search led me to JustDumpIt. The ad was aggressive with orange and black. They answered the phone and made an appointment for Tuesday at 1pm. I told them in the call that a screwdriver would do the job. Well. at one they showed up. I suspect it was the owner. The tool they brought was a sledge hammer. It took them ten minutes to reduce the bed to its component parts. They hauled it away and it cost me money. When they left I reflected on our history. The bed came into my life four apartments ago. I’d moved in with my sister to help her with rent and cut out a twenty mile commute to work. I bought a queen sized bed. Whhy? Stupidity. It was nice to sleep on and actually helped me as a pick-up line, once. My sister and boyfriend had taken off for a weekend in DC. I met a reasonable lady in a bar. We’d had a few drinks and conversation got personal. I mentioned the waterbed. She thought it was a super idea. I was very happy. I took her home. We had fun. I drove her home and never saw her again. It wasn’t for me not trying. I actively looked for her. Granted my intentions weren’t exactly pure, but I tried. The waterbed was christened. It stayed with me through cats and mattresses, major leaks, a bad choice in repair and generally being there when I was sleepy and needed a place to collapse. Farewell good friend. Sorry your demise and future life couldn’t have been better.

I mentioned Showgirls, a universally panned movie in relation to Charlotte’s visit. I need to bail the movie out. It wasn’t that bad. Critics look for messages in movies and when it’s been used a lot they get testy. Showgirls is a remake of All About Eve. It stars Elizabeth Berkley as Nomi Malone. We meet her hitchhiking to Vegas. She’s picked up by a guy in a blue pick up truck. She rebuffs his advances by pulling a switchblade. We find out early, she’s a dancer. He rips her off and after trying to walk into traffic she’s pulled back by Molly. Molly works a seamstress at one of the clubs. She gives Nomi a place to crash. Nomi finally gets a job dancing at a strip club. She’s noticed by James, a bouncer/bar tender/ bell hop who’s a choreographer. He knows talent. Nomi lap dances her way to a second tier club. the main draw is The Goddess. Nomi works as a chorus line dancer. Again, she’s noticed by a lot of people, particularly Cristal Conners, The Goddess. Cristal sees Nomi as a protégé/rival/love interest/reminder. Cristal tries to woo Nomi and is turned down. The entertainment manager is after her. He succeeds. Cristal is pissed. She plots revenge. It’s simple, she implies Nomi might be in line for the job as understudy, which she loses. In a calm moment Cristal and Nomi share lunch and swap stories. Particularly eating dog food. Meanwhile her affair with the entertainment manager leads Nomi to take Molly along to a party where Molly meets her singing idol. Said idol latches onto Molly and he and some friends gang-rape her. Nomi goes to the manager who basically tells her the guy is a star and the club won’t involve the police. In keeping with the mythos that the government can find out a lot but the Vegas mob can really dig up the dirt. Nomi is confronted with her past which was hinted at when she couldn’t come up with a SSN for e job application. Nomi is a bad girl, hooking, assault, drugs, and other assorted stuff. She make her move, marbles on a particularly treacherous staircase take out Cristal. She goes medieval. She kicks the singer’s ass. Makes amends with Molly and visits Cristal who explains it all. Cristal gets a rest, Nomi is a star, the system keeps running. We last see Nomi hitchhiking out of Vegas. She’s picked up by, yep, the same blue pick up truck, switchblade swerving and a road sign advertising Nomi as The Goddess. If you look at the story you see classic literary figures: The Mentor, Cristal, The Protector, Molly and the hero, Nomi. She’s overcome maybe not world shaking adversity, avenged wrongs and walked away from it as unscathed as she possibly could. T&A aside, it’s got a classic story. You just got to look for it. And the movie does what Casablanca and other greats does, it makes you ask “What happens to her next?”

Men are believers in general cleaning. Keep the big dirt off the floor and make sure nothing infests or grows where it shouldn’t. Women believe in specific cleaning. The target rooms, dressers,etc. Men use a rake women a vacuum. Just sayin’.

Spring training is beginning. We can watch our favorite baseball teams show promise before they disappoint/elate. It’s a sign that Sring is near, the pitchers are reporting.

An odd bit: appliances that just don’t quite work. Like my vacuum cleaner that sucks because it can’t. The food processor that just is a bit too small to process large batches of sauce or vegetables. The breader that was supposed to make breading foods a snap but was a bigger pain in the a** to clean. Discuss among yourselves.

Got to get dressed and go grocery shopping. Losing desire as the time passes.

See you on Friday.