Did I mention that I hate being tested?

I take that civil service exam tomorrow morning. I'm really scared. It's been a long time since I took any kind of exam and I'm afraid I'm going to blow it. The requirement of 35 WPM and 96% accuracy scares me. I don't know how I can do that. If I slow down, I may not type fast enough, and if I speed up I make way more than 4% in errors. This is my big chance and I can't face the prospect of screwing up. My mother keeps saying I'll do fine but I just wish I could get a job without having to take a damn test. Aren't interviews bad enough? My grandparents are coming up next week and I'm already going to catch hell for being unemployed and the idea that I might blow that test would make it so much worse. Again, aren't interviews bad enough?

It's at 9 AM, and I have to be there a half hour early, so I hope I can get some sleep tonight (like I haven't been able to so far) ...wish me luck.

Bills are evil.

My mother has decided that I must be bored. Gee? Really? She offered to give me my birthday money early to just get out and go shopping or something. I told her that I want to save any money I get for bills and Christmas. I'd love to go blow cash, but I don't feel right doing it when I have a credit card bill hanging over my head with interest that makes babies cry. The sooner I pay that off, and pay my father back the loan he gave me... I'll feel better.

We talked about my feeling err... less than adult lately, because I literally have 150 dollars to my name and I can't afford to pay her the rent that I used to. It drives me crazy that I can't contribute the way that I could before. Even with that job that made me hate life I could afford to be a little more relaxed. I've just been irritable over my lack of a social life lately. At this point in my life, the kids that Nike and Disney have making thier clothes are making more money than me.

Outside of bills, I miss being able to casually spend money. Not a lot, but just to be able to buy new jeans once in a while or go out to dinner with a friend. So we decided that I should take part of my birthday money and go shopping with her. I do need new clothes, or maybe I'll grab a few DVDs. Usually, this is when I start Christmas shopping and although I don't go hogwild... I don't like the idea of being a cheap bastard. Homemade drawings and stick figure paintings don't hold the same appeal when they're coming from someone that's 24 (I will be by then.)

Money sucks! Or at least, missing it does.

BTW, The Burger King freaks me out. Bad idea to have him in someone's bed when they wake up. I would have beaten him with my table lamp before he had time to hand me the artery-clogging breakfast.

Cynicism is fun and useful.

This just in:

The entire world is dissolving into a mix of erectile dysfunction drugs, hair dyes, Billie Mays commercials and sappy E-Harmony stories.

So, if you're having difficulties with your sexual function, hair color, stubborn BBQ stains and dating life-- you should be set.

Or at least that's what it seems like sometimes.

I'm still bored. I'm just trying to keep myself amused. I've been watching my DVD set of Garfield and Friends... it's a classic.

"I ordered veggie lo mein, no 'shrooms"

Ok. No more chinese food before bedtime. Last night was the last straw. I haven't had dreams that insane in a long time. I had 3 distinct dreams about some scary shit. It actually reminded me a little of the boatride in the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Crazy clips of a friend's house flooding with no source of running water, fighting with some guy (I remember calling him a "gutless douchebag,") and mix-ups at an airport. I felt like I was really stoned and I don't even smoke anymore.

I love you Sun Fai, but you're abusing me and I must lay off the teriyaki beef and spicy lo mein for at least 3 hours before bedtime or else I fear I'll have another trippy ride through my own subconscious.

... I'm really bored. I miss doing my hair and makeup and going out once in a while. But then again, it'll never be the way it used to be. I'm used to just sitting at the bar with friends, and talking while we have a few drinks. I have to be in a really special mood to want to go out and be asses-to-elbows with a hundred other people. I got too used to being able to talk to the bartender instead of screaming and getting jostled to pay too much for a drink. Or better yet, get my assets "accidentally" groped as I try to fight my way to the bathroom to pee, to find there's no toilet paper and someone has peed on the walls/floor/toilet seat/mirror/door. No thanks.

I remember what happened one of the last times I went out, a while ago. I must be getting old or something, all I wanted to do all night was to bang some guys' heads together for thinking that a few strings of cheap plastic beads and some bad drink specials were going to get them ass. They'd have a better shot if they showered and wore less Axe (or didn't hit on my friends first.) Not to mention, I felt confused as to why girls seemed to have forgotten to wear clothing. I don't care if they have the body of a genetically blessed 16 year-old, wear more than a band-aid. I'd seen tampon strings longer than their skirts. I'll play that bead game when it's the other way around. Until then it will forever remind me of crowded frat parties, bad punch and stepping in a stranger's vomit on the bus.

Yep. I miss sitting on a barstool at Happy Hour with friends, sharing a bowl of cajun popcorn and chatting with the bartender.

Late Night Commentary...

Thanks to my insomnia, I'm now up to watch late-night tv. I tend to watch Comedy Central or something on one of the Discovery Channels. A few nights ago I was treated to a mini-marathon of TV Funhouse. Tonight was Shorties Watching Shorties. My love for good stand-up comedy knows no bounds. But the commercials. The commercials!

Late-night Comedy Central invariably means multiple Girls Gone Wild commercials.

"Are you into half-naked college chicks totally obliviated to the point where they find that obnoxious troll Doug Stanhope attractive?"

What? Obviously there's a market for these stupid videos. I don't judge the girls for doing it-- go for it, if that's what makes you happy. If having a million late-night tv viewers watch carefully censored shots of you kissing your equally-drunk best friend and frolicking in your Girls Gone Wild panties is your idea of a good time-- have at it.

How many of those videos are necessary? It's like porn-- there's really just a limited amount of plots for porn and we all know how it ends.

"Hey! I wonder if the disgusting hosts are going to get her to flash the camera with her friends. Maybe she'll say no this time...Oh! They'll give her a free t-shirt to end up as spank material for lonely old men. Yep! There she goes! Boobies!"

Ten years from now when those "crazy college coeds" are married with 2.5 kids, that'll come back to bite them in the ass. I'm calling that now. They'll be at a PTA meeting and in a super-secret coup, they'll be kicked out because someone dug up an old Girls Gone Wild tape in the garage. Will they still think it was so fun when they're fifty? It's kind of sick. Get girls to sign away their dignity and rights to their own bodies. Great idea! Until mom/dad/boyfriend/girlfriend sees you on late-night tv in the commercials. But hey, it'd make for animated holiday dinner talk.

I don't think I'd trust a man that bought all those tapes for any reason other than a joke. What exactly is sexy about completely crocked girls? Sleazy shit. Some of them look barely legal. I have, however, spoken to males that think the tapes are boring. I must concur. Guys, is there nothing better you can spend your money on? Go see a stripper and get a lapdance or something. Then at least some of the money goes to the woman.


Oh, yes, and a momentary SCREW YOU to Always for the commercials telling me to have a happy period. Yeah, sure. Once I'm done being nauseous, bloated, angry, and the bleeding stops. Then I'll be happy. This goes for the "new" packaging with the flowers on them. Right. Flowers make everything better, even spending a week drinking so much water that I feel like I'm in detox and having the personality of a hungry bear.



...just felt like doing a little anonymous yelling :)

Our backyard, Bambi's toilet.

I just left a comment on one of the blogs I consistently read, Austen's to be specific (http://lumpybump.blogspot.com)

It made me think about the season's changing here. It's starting, some of the trees are dropping leaves and turning colors. The view from our new house is going to be spectacular. Our back porch overlooks our backyard, which is right up against a big creek. All that's on the other side is a big hill with no development. It reminds me of my hometown, where people actually drove for hours to see the trees. It seemed a little silly to me, but then again I was the one raking up the dead leaves from the backyard. I appreciate the view because autumn never lasts long enough. It always seems like it goes from sandals to snow boots in a week.

Last night Mom got all excited because she saw a deer in our backyard down near the creek. She called me over and was saying "awww, it's so cute." I took a quick look, and then pointed out that it was in the process of taking a dump-- which she hadn't noticed.

Ahh. The beauty of nature ;)

Monkey Tagged Me

Seven Things

Seven Things I Plan To Do Before I Die
1) Take a european vacation with friends
2) Finish the afghan I started 2 years ago
3) Get my Masters
4) Own a pair of Jimmy Choos
5) Have several dogs
6) Publish a book
7) Get Yankees season tickets

Seven Things I Can Do
1) Read very fast
2) Sing along with most 80's music
3) Argue
4) Dye my hair
5) Eat too many Skittles
6) Look back and laugh
7) Wake up without an alarm clock

Seven Things I Cannot Do
1) Drive
2) Vote republican
3) Make bacon without burning it
4) Wear lipstick without feeling stupid
5) Run
6) Watch MTV
7) Eat onions

Seven Things That Attract Me To Another Person
1) Decent sense of humor
2) Brains (and not in a zombie way)
3) Nice eyes
4) Good taste in tv and movies
5) Responsibility
6) Willingness to relax on the couch
7) The fact that they aren't Jude Law.

Seven Things I Say Most Often
1) Shit
2) I'm rereading Harry Potter again, no really
3) Seriously
4) Bite me.
5) Wha?
6) We have 900 channels, and there's nothing on.
7) I love you


Seven Celebrity Crushes
1) Jon Stewart
2) Johnny Depp
3) Josh Holloway
4) Wentworth Miller
5) David Wenham
6) Jerry O'Connell
7) David Boreanaz

4, 8, 15,16, 23, 42

http://www.oceanic-air.com/seatingchart.htm

And there, on that website, I have managed to waste massive amounts of time reaffirming my status as a tv geek. It's for Lost, and for anyone that may be into the show, here's a hint, click on the magic numbers in order. A video plays and then there's a website that's seriously cool.

Consider yourself warned. It reminds me of my former addiction to Snood several years ago.

Four days til the Lost season 2 premier. I'm really looking forward to it. I don't know why people got so pissed about the ending of last season. I would have been irritated if I'd seen what was in the hatch and then had to wait months for the next glimpse. I think the time for everyone to theorize and obsess over the numbers adds to the mystery of the show.

When I rewatched the episodes, I picked up on a ton of little things that I missed the first time around. I wish I had Tivo haha. I was talking to some other people about our guesses for the next season. Here's mine:

1) Claire's days are numbered. There was so much pressure put on her to raise that baby herself, the psychic even set her up on the flight. I assume he knew. The only thing is, wouldn't he also see if she died in those "blurry" visions of his? I just think that when he told her "that baby needs your influence," that they were setting her up to get knocked off. Then Charlie will take care of Aaron.

2) I think it's about time for Hurley to have a love interest. Or is society or the network still too uptight to see a big guy get some love? I also think he has a big freakish secret and that's why he's so touchy about being called crazy.

3) The weirdos on the boat were the Others. I think Sawyer or Jin gets eaten by a shark. I have no earthly clue why children are so important. And as scary as Ethan was, I hope he comes back in flashbacks. Those fights with him and Jack were awesome.

4) They made it clear that one of the survivors is a fraud. I'll make a cold guess now that it's Charlie. No real reason, but it'd make for good tv if he wasn't what they're portraying him as. Especially if he takes over care of Aaron.

5) haha... And in the interest of pure male beauty-- I want Jin, if he comes back from raft V2.0, to be shirtless more often. Daniel Dae Kim's one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen and he's not getting enough screentime. If he does become shark food, I'll settle for seeing Sawyer run around shirtless and sweaty.

I reserve the right to gracefully be entirely wrong. Isn't that part of the fun of guessing?

What's in the water here?

...I can't fall asleep.


Then again, considering the cracked-out dreams I've been having...it doesn't surprise me. Too many dreams mixing up tv shows and my friends. Or in the recent case, an old friend of mine. I haven't see the guy in a while but he's popped up in my dreams for reasons I don't get. All I know is that it's silly. He always seems to be holding my hand or have an arm around my waist or something.

It's just so bizarre that he's been in my dreams, but not in my daily thoughts. What I know for sure is that the two of are are very different now.

It's nice in a nostalgic way, but come on... why can't I dream about Sawyer from Lost? :-/

It's not so bad to be silly sometimes...

Who needs a karaoke bar? I have my own personal Yahoo radio station and headphones. Yahoo doesn't exist only to supply lazy or stressed out college students with references for a last-minute paper (or so I hear...)

My voice is decent, but I just don't have the stones to sing live. So, instead, I rock out in my room and look like a total fool. Isn't that the point? I don't need an audience. It's just odd because it goes from U2 to Terri Clark to Metallica to Green Day.

I feel no reason to be limited to one genre in my own room.

It's a necessary break from my Lost dvds. I may check to make sure Lostzilla isn't under my bed tonight. Or to see that there are no polar bears in my closet.

eep.

...orange Gatorade tastes bad

I got a letter from the Civil Service Exam people. I've been accepted to take the test for Keyboard Specialist. Sounds special doesn't it? It's a 2-3 hour exam, depending on how slow the test taker is. There's a multiple choice exam, and a typing test--obviously. They demand at least 35 wpm, and 96% accuracy. I can handle the 35 words part, but the accuracy may be an issue. If they cover the keyboard, I may be screwed. I'm used to my little laptop... I know I'm just worried, and I'm mostly sure it'll be fine but there's just some pressure on me not to fuck up. It's getting close to Christmas and no one likes to be broke on Jesus' birthday.

Just now as I write this I'm stumbling more and more with my typos. 96% is pretty crazy. I hope I don't screw up.

By the way, I watched Bones last night. It's that new show about a bitchy forensic anthropologist that spends too much time in a sterile lab and not enough with real people (alive people, that is.) Damn, thats what I want to be doing! She's rather cold, but you can't really judge a show by the pilot. And hell, David Boreanaz is always fine to look at. He makes a decent FBI agent. House was on after. I missed it when it first started last season, but I caught most of the reruns. Very funny and it has Robert Sean Leonard whose acting I've loved since Dead Poet's Society and Swing Kids. I've been giving the new shows a chance. Prison Break isn't too bad. There's some "believability issues," and it was hard to watch him get his toes cut off with hedge trimmers-- but the premise is good enough.

Here, a picture of Wentworth Miller from Prison Break-- I'm a member of TWoP, and he's, um, a favorite of most of the women posting:

It's Not New Years but...

I made an agreement with my mother today. Actually, it was a sneaky guilt trip that I dumped on her that I feel no shame for.

She talks about how she wants to quit smoking, and how she needs to do it. In my case, I know I need to drop some pounds for health's sake. So I told her I'd drop 20 pounds, starting when she quits smoking. I've been trying anyway, but I think it's a good way to make myself get off my ass-- and her off hers too. Her smoking hurt me, it aggravated my asthma and likely left me with lung damage, but I don't dump that on her. What's done is done. I just want her to be healthier, and by inhaling whatever the hell is in those things isn't helping. She's survived cancer, I don't want to lose her to cigarettes. She loves me and wants to see me in better shape-- if only for me to feel better about myself, so I think she'll try harder for me. I hate to twist her arm, but oh well, I won't feel badly about it. We'll both be better off.

However. I am TIRED of the bullshit going around about fad diets. I figure the best way for me to drop a few is to not eat all the crap food and exercise more. I'm not following any diet that tells me that bagels and apples are evil and that bacon is ok. Nor am I going to waste my money on prepacked foods when I can cook better things myself. I'm not an idiot, portion control and exercise are key-- not whining about good carbs and bad carbs and obsessively counting every calorie. I like who I am, and I am who I am no matter what dress size I wear.

I've seen my friends and family go through insane hoops to fit into society's standards--not just into last year's jeans. My stepmother did that LA diet thing, basically it was liquid juice stuff for 2 meals and something innocuously bland for dinner. Then she tried that food combination diet. I remember looking at her meal schedule wondering if the people that come up with that shit have ever actually eaten food before. She had days where she could "eat all the raisins or watermelon" she wanted-- and that was it. Or days with protein, but never with carbs. It made no sense to me. All I knew was that she was bitchy and hungry all the time and that I wanted her to eat a damn steak.

One time I was really sick, it was my freshman years of college. I had enough energy to slog over to the campus convenience store to pick up some food to live off of while I hibernated in my room til I felt better. I picked up milk, teddy grahams, turkey and bread and ice cream, among other stuff. Behind me I heard two girls discussing how "fat and disgusting" they were becoming. The first said that she thought she was getting ugly and that she needed to start dieting more. Then second said that she'd started smoking, to cut down on her appetite and that it was working. The first said that it was a good idea and that she should try that too. All I could think was, "What? I'd rather be a size 14 than that stupid and desperate for acceptance." I turned to look at them, and not surprisingly they looked like they couldn't have been more than 115 pounds each. Sad shit.

So here's to more salads and less brownies (I said less, not none.)

The DMV.

I went to the DMV today. Technically, Thursday morning...since I'm still up at 1:30 AM, so that makes it Friday. My head hurts now.

Like 95% of the population I have a genetic aversion to the DMV. It cranks up my sarcasm and cynicism way higher than it needs to go-- like the 11 on Spinal Tap's amp. The place opened at 10, and we got there at 9:55. Already there was a 30-person line. Oh joy. The guy in front of me decided to make small talk, and I'm not so big on random conversations like that-- I blame my year of taking public transportation. I kind of always expected someone on my bus to just start screaming in tongues and flinging piss all over. First step in the local DMV is to get in the line of epic foot-shuffling and irritation to get the relevant paperwork and a number-- and Then, you can wait for your turn. I listened to the surrounding cell phone conversations and wondered if anyone on earth is capable of speaking without a cell phone hanging off their ear like an odd piercing.

While waiting I looked at all the signs, spread over to attract attention away from the fact that you'll be in line until roughly eternity ends-- or it'll at least feel like it. The first one I saw was a drawing of a frowny-faced man in a little blue car. The caption was "Does driving a car with mechanical problems make you a Sam Sad driver?" Wow. Are they aiming for 4 year-olds getting their first tricycle license? I have a tendency to not filter my thoughts when I'm with my mom, because she gets me. I tapped her on the shoulder and then pointed at all 400 signs and told her, "I'm expecting to see a sign that says 'For records purposes and your convenience, we now require all forms to be filled out in aramaic, in triplicate. Please have ID ready.' " But even though being there makes my eye tic, I refuse to be rude to the people that work there. Chances are they don't like it much either.

Across the street there is a little corner store and there's a giant yellow sign in the front window that said "SALE-- Housewares, Human Hair." *Wha?*

We were number 805. No, thankfully it did not start at number 1. By the time we left, it had in reality been under an hour...but I was so happy to see the sun outside that I almost dropped to kiss the cigarette-butt and undecipherable trash-strewn ground. Oh by the way-- the DMV is immediately next door to the Department of Mental Health. Nice.

Peeve of the day-- fashion magazines that imply that I should worry more about the latest issue of Cosmo, and all the articles on what men "really think." Oh bullshit. I'd rather watch baseball or stand-up on DVD than discuss the lists of 940 reasons to buy clothes that are ugly and overexpensive. It seems silly to me. I am made of roughly Mischa Barton and Nicole Ritchie together (plus some pizza) ...so why would I want to try and look like them? I'll buy Cosmo more than once a year once they have models that look more like me, and clothes that look less like the demented result of a coke and jack-fueled bender. I admit this is because I bought the recent issue, out of curiosity and boredom. It's just as bad as I remembered, and I'm embarrassed to have spent 4 bucks on it. They had an photo-filled article on how tight fitting tapered leg jeans are coming back. For my generation-- those went the way of acid wash, right? I know what's flattering on me... and the day I wear tapered leg jeans I'll ask my best friend to get me drunk and burn them off of me.

What next? DNA sample?

I have no specific religion.

I'm not sure of what comes after death.

I think I may have an idea.

Paperwork. Endless piles, groups, mounds, mountains of paperwork. It continues it's relentless march across my desk. Copies of my resume, disregarded post-its and notes to myself on random bits of cardboard and paper. I think Hell is paperwork.

*hehe*

I just finished filling out my application to take the civil service exams. My priorities right now are a steady paycheck, stable environment and decent benefits-- on the bus line. My best chance to get that is working for the state. If my application is approved I'll be notified within time to take the keyboard specialist test I want to take later this month. I hope it's not too late. I'll be screwed then.

The application was just difficult for me, and I'm not sure why exactly. Partly due to my lack of impetus to get anything accomplished and partly because I can't remember things about my past jobs working for my college. Hell, half of my supervisors no longer work there. They wanted DETAILS. I mean, what I did, for whom, and the percentage of time I spent doing what. I felt like they were carefully asking me how much time I spent in the bathroom. I had to squeeze a 7 year employment history into spaces better suited to short-answer questions in a US History class. If they wanted much more, I would have thought it was all a ruse and I was really applying to be in the CIA.

I'm not embarrassed to admit that I'm scared that this won't work out. I'm also not embarrassed to admit that I sleep with a teddy bear. What? I've had him for about 18 years, I think he deserves a cushy spot. hehe. Maybe since I'm just relieved that stupid application is done that I'm feeling silly now.

He started it!

My baby brother turned 14 today. What?? I remember when he was an anklebiting little noise machine. All of a sudden he's damn near taller than me (I give it 3 months.) Last year I had to run out to the garage quick, and grabbed what I thought were my stepmother's sneakers and put them on. They fit. Later, I found out they were my brother's.

Just in the last 2 years we've really talked a lot. For a long time, we fought. He's technically my half-brother, but I see no reason to call him that. We drove my father insane arguing, although it's a running family joke that we worked together against one thing-- my father's hairline-- I made it gray and my brother makes it fall out. Just in the last couple years I realized I have to be a role model, even though I'm his big sister and therefore obviously to a teenaged boy that gives me little credibility. Usually when I call my dad, he gets on the phone and we talk about school. I gave him a heads-up on the history of the teachers and the ones I liked/despised.

I know he's been teased in school, and it makes my blood boil. I want to march into the school and bang heads. But I know I can't. Once he grows a little it'll be better. Besides, he's goofy like me, and smart mouths help. Last year some jackass upperclassman flipped my brother across the hall. I mean, THREW him. I can't imagine that. I got teased for being too skinny, too smart, and then too fat...but no one ever touched me. My father went to the school and spoke the principal, who said he'd keep an eye on the situation. Heaven help that kid if I'd been there. He starts 8th grade on Wednesday, I hope he nad his friends have an easier time this year.

He's my little monster and I regret not being closer to him when he was little. I never lived primarily with my dad, and I admit when he was born I was jealous. I'd had 9 years and 11 months of being an only child. But it didn't take long to make me realize that he wasn't so bad. He was born on my first day of 5th grade, at 10 lbs and 6 ounces. Giant baby. Biggest one in the nursery. And yeah, he came too fast for my stepmom to be drugged up.

I remember that my name was the last one he learned to say. I had almost given up and then one morning when I was in the kitchen I heard him yelling "DIDI!" Close enough for me. It stuck for almost 10 years.

He went through this phase where the flushing of the toilet was the greatest entertainment ever. He tried to flush everything-- including dad's paycheck. Luckily, he had bad aim and that just ended up behind the toilet. I think some keys were sacrificed to the porcelain god though. But my favorite memory is of him on the floor in his diaper bouncing along to Bob Marley.

I can't believe how we didn't get along and well, what a shitty sister I was for years. When I was a teenager I was wrapped up in my own private issues of angsty-ness. When I was in college I was all about trying to be all independant and unique-- just like everyone else. I like being able to talk to him, and sometimes I am floored by how smart he is now and how silly he can be. And to be honest, how much of myself I see in him. He'd deny that like Clinton denied inhaling...but I do see things he does that remind me of myself. He doesn't go with the herd. I hope that doesn't change.

Still. He started it... the first time I ever held him he stuck his little fist out and punched me in the nose.


PS this post needs a cute puppy picture...

"Vacation is Over... an open letter from Michael Moore to George W. Bush"

"Friday, September 02, 2005

Vacation is Over... an open letter from Michael Moore to George W. Bush

Welcome to MichaelMoore.com!:

Friday, September 2nd, 2005

Dear Mr. Bush:
Any idea where all our helicopters are? It's Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Do you need help finding them? I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag.

Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren't there to begin with?

Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn't want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don't like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her!

I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don't let people criticize you for this -- after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike?

And don't listen to those who, in the coming days, will reveal how you specifically reduced the Army Corps of Engineers' budget for New Orleans this summer for the third year in a row. You just tell them that even if you hadn't cut the money to fix those levees, there weren't going to be any Army engineers to fix them anyway because you had a much more important construction job for them -- BUILDING DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ!

On Day 3, when you finally left your vacation home, I have to say I was moved by how you had your Air Force One pilot descend from the clouds as you flew over New Orleans so you could catch a quick look of the disaster. Hey, I know you couldn't stop and grab a bullhorn and stand on some rubble and act like a commander in chief. Been there done that.

There will be those who will try to politicize this tragedy and try to use it against you. Just have your people keep pointing that out. Respond to nothing. Even those pesky scientists who predicted this would happen because the water in the Gulf of Mexico is getting hotter and hotter making a storm like this inevitable. Ignore them and all their global warming Chicken Littles. There is nothing unusual about a hurricane that was so wide it would be like having one F-4 tornado that stretched from New York to Cleveland.

No, Mr. Bush, you just stay the course. It's not your fault that 30 percent of New Orleans lives in poverty or that tens of thousands had no transportation to get out of town. C'mon, they're black! I mean, it's not like this happened to Kennebunkport. Can you imagine leaving white people on their roofs for five days? Don't make me laugh! Race has nothing -- NOTHING -- to do with this!

You hang in there, Mr. Bush. Just try to find a few of our Army helicopters and send them there. Pretend the people of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are near Tikrit.

Yours,Michael Moore
MMFlint@aol.com
www.MichaelMoore.com


P.S. That annoying mother, Cindy Sheehan, is no longer at your ranch. She and dozens of other relatives of the Iraqi War dead are now driving across the country, stopping in many cities along the way. Maybe you can catch up with them before they get to DC on September 21st."


I usually try not to borrow and post things, but this was too good not to. I believe Moore had his facts straight, and if they are true...and President Bush treated the situation so callously it makes me feel ill.

Moore is used to pissing people off, he should probably give Kanye West a call and let him know how to deal with the backlash. While I don't think it was really the best time to blurt out "President Bush doesn't care about black people," it seems that he wasn't so far off the mark. Or maybe it's that the President doesn't care so much about poor people, regardless of skin color. I figure it'll be about another day before people start burning his cds and calling for a public apology before they go to his shows. I hope he sticks to his guns.

Hopefully the rebuilding starts in earnest soon.

I'm Famous! Gimme Gimme!!

Let's play a game. It's called "What could cost 26,000 dollars?"

A. 2 and a half years at my alma mater
B. A well-equipt car
C. 667 nights at a Motel 6
D. 8 week long caribbean cruise
E. the estimated retail value of the gift baskets given to "attending celebrities and talent" at the MTV Music Awards
F. All of the above


The correct answer is F-- for what the Fuck?
http://biz.yahoo.com/prnews/050828/nysu011.html?.v=24

The bags include a solid gold eyelash curler and a set of 100% mink fake eyelashes, a 350 dollar Vanessa Handbag, couture active wear, and who knows what else. I can't find a list. I'm assuming that to cost 26K, there's probably a genuine oompa loompa crammed in there.


Even if that estimate is off-- lets look at LAST years gifts-- "23 different bath and body products, four pieces of jewelry, three bottles of perfume and cologne, two pairs of sunglasses and one full-scale, milk-chocolate replica of a Moonman trophy. Throw in free stays at hotels and resorts, a few handbags and accessories and various gift certificates." That's from Vh1, and that bag was valued at $16,000 and was actually a box since it was so heavy. It had to be delivered to the celeb's homes.

I left a comment in http://lowtalker.blogspot.com/, because she posted about celeb demands backstage. No wonder I stopped watching MTV, the bloated egos are interrupting my love of actual music. Do the celebs really need to be bribed to be there or what? Why else would there need to be a gigantic ass-kissing box o' expensive things to lure them there? Who told Ashlee Simpson she was talented? Sorry, that slipped out. Really, though, who lied to her?

A little bit of this irritation is of the green-eyed kind, because I can't afford that and I know it. Let me put it this way-- at my last job I made about 12K in a year. So in one night, they get a gift that costs more than 2 years of my labor.

Why do we put celebrities on such pedestals? They have bad morning breath, pick wedgies and get mood swings like the rest of us. What's so awesome about them that they get rewarded for simply being themselves? I know lots of genuinely nice people that could use a reward just for being who they are-- but they don't expect it.

I'm sure a lot of them are chill, cool people and are truly nice and down-to-earth...but I just don't get the whole celebrity-worship thing.

Couldn't this money be put to better use improving the lives of people who actually need it, rather than stroking the egos of the A-listers?



PS-- Someone should tell Gwen Stefani that her clothes are ugly and that she should eat a cheeseburger.

Next time, I'll just shoot smack to kill the pain.

I finally got my bill(S) for my time in the ER last month.

Last week I got got Pointless Bill-- covering the doctor, mainly, the cost to have a doctor speak to me while I was curled up in the fetal position. It was: $294.40

Even though that was harder to swallow than mystery meat school lunches, I wasn't too unhappy. Then today I got Pointless Bill version 2.0, covering the cost of various ER and hospital expenses, and a lab test for $49. This one came to: $315.67

I may be no mathematical prodigy, but I do know that means I owe the hospital $610.07 for the priviledge of 10 minutes with a doctor, a backless hospital gown, a urine test that they gave me to make sure I wasn't a jonesing drug addict, three shots that made me ill given by overworked nurses, and 4 hours of throwing up in a barely-private curtained cubicle next to the poor old man with catheter issues.

I owe them for NOT helping me and making me feel WORSE.

This is supposed to make me feel comfortable with our healthcare system? The worst part is,I have to be relieved that they didn't do anything more to "help" me like they would have if I had had insurance. If they had done blood tests or a CT scan the bill would have easily been two grand or more. So, I have to be relieved that I got shitty service. That's nice.

I recognize that it could be far worse, and that right now I shouldn't be complaining too much because my home is still standing... but I have to be concerned about my financial well-being. Thankfully my mother is going to help me with this, because my bank account can't stretch much further before my checkbook beats me in my sleep.

I asked Peter Griffin what he thought I should do, and he said: