Can't Sleep...Clowns'll Eat Me...

Working for my money...

2006-12-29T09:01:00.000-08:00

I looked back through my older posts here, and the majority of them have something to do with with my agita over being unemployed. Thankfully, I was able to avoid the siren call of crackwhoredom to pay my bills.

I got a job. Thank Jeebus. But for every silver lining, there's an ugly gray cloud-- I'm basically what amounts to a fairly well-paid gas station attendant. More often than not there are only 2 people working at a time-- with one in the back room or getting things done with paperwork. Leaving one person, usually me, at the front to watch the gas pumps, keep the coffee coming, run both registers and that infernal Lotto machine, and serve ice cream. It usually works out well. People, for the most part, are either polite or recognize that being a dick to whoever is behind the counter won't make things better.

But sometimes... it's chaos and I still wish for a staid, comfy cubie job. Something ripped straight from Office Space. Maybe I could get Milton's old desk in the basement.

But hey, I can pay my bills now. And as a bonus, everyone I work with is really cool.

Some days, I am confronted by how stupid people can be. I mean, not just regular everyday stupid, like "where did I put my hat? Oh... it's already on my head..." But truly "my brain cells have melted" stupid.

A few days ago I was at the register and a man came up with two bottle of Gatorade and asked me a question:

"Is this Gatorade lemonade Gatorade or lemonade?"

BZUH?

So I spoke to him as if he were a five year-old and had to literally show him that the nutritional facts on both bottles were identical. I tried to explain that it was just lemonade flavored Gatorade, but he was actually almost arguing with me over it. He'd been sent because someone back home was sick and wanted a drink, and he was confused. But, come on... is Gatorade really something that causes such mental stress?

No really.

2006-12-27T20:47:00.000-08:00

I took a catnap before work today and had a dream about David Caruso.

My brain has betrayed me. Why can't I dream about Yul from Survivor, or Johnny Depp? Nooo... I dream that I'm trapped in a car with Horatio Caine. Mind you, it was dark, but he still had his sunglasses on.

He kept calling me "Partner" and told me that I'd need to work with him to figure out what was going on. I woke up when the car door wouldn't open.

So WTF, brain, WTF.

No more dreams of the red-headed, be-sunglassed, over-emotive, scenery-eating devil please!

Are there cobwebs in the internet?

2006-12-26T08:44:00.000-08:00

Wow.

I actually kind of forgot this existed. Weird.

Visa...

2005-12-12T10:05:00.000-08:00

Dear Visa,

Fuck you. Fuck the gigantic inflated APR you've stuck to me, despite the fact that I pay you bloodsucking bastards every month and have paid my card off twice. I am no longer a college student, haven't been for two years, so perhaps you could stop bleeding me dry like you did for those four and a half years of my undergraduate studies. I understand that you make major money off of people's inability to pay off their card every month, but EXCUSE ME, it would just be nice to see my balance go DOWN MORE for once. Happy Fucking Holidays to you. I hope Santa takes a crap down your office chimney this year.

Sincerely,
Bitter Cardholder

Ok... I'm done. Just needed to vent a little.

5 Odd Facts About Me

2005-12-10T17:08:00.000-08:00

1. My toenails are always painted, sometimes with more than one color on each foot. But I rarely paint my fingernails.

2. I don't like any kind of salad dressing, and don't eat ketchup. I eat mustard on everything from fries to eggs.

3. I sleep under 3 heavy blankets, but leave my fan on.

4. I hate it when pieces of my hair fly all over the place, since it makes my hair look frizzy. I keep barettes with me.

5. I don't use alarm clocks. I always end up waking up before they go off because I can't stand being woken up by a loud alarm.

Look, it's me.

2005-12-04T09:25:00.000-08:00

I discovered this yesterday-- create your own superhero.

Here's me in the morning. I wish there were other body types to choose from, but this was fun... a massive time-waster, but still fun.

"There's an ex-con in the bathroom and he won't come out."

2005-12-02T19:54:00.000-08:00

I called my dad to let him know that I got the earphones for my brother, so he wouldn't buy them too. My stepmom picked up, and was immediately far more cheerful than she normally is on the phone. She passed the phone to dad, who says "Hey! We're having a party!" I love my dad, he doesn't drink much anymore-- but he's still not too old to party with his buddies. I told him to call me tomorrow when the Advil kicks in.

One of the last times they had a party there where they invited friends, it became a crazy story. Some co-worker of my stepmom brought an ex-con as her date. Said Con decided to get into a beer-fueled, screaming fistfight with my step-uncle about Red Sox V. Yankees. My step-uncle was pushed into a bedroom to chill out, and Con was shoved into the bathroom. My dad opened the door to tell him he had to leave, and Con flipped out and sucker punched my dad. After that he punched a hole in the bathroom door and shut himself in again. Meanwhile my younger brother is trying to help out, and my dog bit someone in the chaos. Not badly, but she was just protecting my dad. Dad calls the cops. Sheriff shows up to help out, and they explain to Con that either he leaves of his own volition, or he is forcibly removed and arrested-- he leaves. My uncle was still screaming and pissed off-- so my stepmom took him out with a karate shot to the throat, turns out she learned how to do that at work. He's no longer welcome in dad's home.

Everyone was fine, but it's such a small town that anyone with a police radio (read: 75% of the population) knew about what happened. Very funny stuff.

This time, however, I only heard the Chicken Dance playing in the background. I'm not sure if that scares me more or less than the mental image of a pair of grown adult men fighting over baseball.

Merry F'n Christmas

2005-12-02T19:11:00.000-08:00

I did it. I started and finished my Christmas shopping in one day. I'm broke now.

I woke up at 8, and proceeded to stumble around like a caffeine-deprived zombie for 2 hours (I wake up notoriously slow,) by 10 my mom, her boyfriend and I set out for Target. Ipod-applicable earphones for my brother, stainless steel travel coffee mugs for my dad and stepmom, stocking stuffers for my mom and a bunch of little stuff.

50 bucks later...

We went to IHOP for lunch. Or as it is better known, Lewis Black's "health club."

Off to the mall. I make a first stop into the As Seen On TV store. I got a car buffer mit and turtle wax cloths for my dad's car, and 2 of those Owl reading light/magnifying cards. One for mom, one for my grandparents.

35 bucks later...

I went to the the Christmas Tree Shop. Bastion of all that is the Chaos of Christmas. They even had cops in there to regulate the masses. And there were MASSES of people. Unorganized floods of carts, baskets, aisles of assorted crap with treasures, and the elderly-- oh, and babies. Lots of babies. There I was with my unwieldy basket of odds and ends, and two giant boxes. I ended up buying amongst more little things-- a fiber-optic Christmas Village house for my Aunt, a portable back massager chair pad for my dad, a scrapbook kit for my stepmom, a stocking because I thought it was pretty and a hideous computer-printed novelty tie for my dad. Payback for all the tricks he pulled on Christmas with me.

55 bucks later...

I go to Hallmark. I buy two candle tarts. For me.

3 bucks later...

I go to Boscov's, and by a small box of Godiva for my mom, gourmet coffee and cookies, and a giant hatbox to put it in.

23 bucks later...

I go to the calendar store, and pick up a Harry Potter desk calendar and a stuffed lab puppy toy for my mom...and put it in the hatbox. Damn thing was heavy.

28 bucks later...

Back to the Christmas Tree Shop, because I had forgotten wrapping paper, tissue paper and bows.

11 bucks later...

I collapse in the car and wait for my mom to finish.

I'm broke as fuck now, and I have to pick up an application for the local gas station. I'm hoping they hire me and they I don't get mugged walking home.

Tis the Holiday Season, time to repent past financial sins and commit new ones.

Christmas and Pandas.

2005-12-01T21:52:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again-- where no one can escape the Claus of Christmas.

It's fun, but sometimes I have a hard time keeping track of what I think is the true meaning. I'm not religious, so I'm not celebrating Christ's birthday. I think of Christmas as a reminder that family is there and that they still love me, even though I screwed up over the year.

The gifts are reminders of love, not to prove who blew the most on some Crap-tasic present (IE-- the electric nosehair trimmers from Sears, or any kind of doll that wets itself and screams.) My parents and family give me great stuff, and I hope they like what I got them. But I'm afraid that more and more Christmas is becoming simply buckwild spending and the resultant rampant braindeath due to bills.

And speaking of braindeath, I should mention Christmas carols. Maybe I'd like them more if they weren't played on Halloween. I like the music in small doses. I sang so much of it in choir for 8 years (we sang the Halleluja Chorus for 4 years straight. I can still sing parts of it.) I like the classics, and some of the Twisted Christmas music. Some of it, the really sappy stuff...just makes me want to get into my Grinch suit, tie antlers on my dog, and steal all of Who-ville's presents...

I think of family dinners past. Like the time my brother set the table on fire, or when the turkey was dry and the steak was raw, or even when I was pubertal and angst-y over everything (that needs no explanation.) Or the family parties where they gave me books and then got mad when I preferred to read them than make small talk. What? I was 12.

My brother is talking about how he wants to get up at 4 AM to do presents. 10 years ago I would have agreed wholeheartedly, but now that I'm officially old...4 AM is when I have to get up and pee, not when I want to be coherent and on camera. It would only serve to scare future generations if my 4 AM face and hair were preserved for posterity.

But it's still fun. I remember how my dad used to trick me every year, how I made Santa sign for his cookies one year (and was foiled when I couldn't match handwriting with anyone) and how when I was way younger-- I got so excited that I puked Christmas morning. I guess I just shook myself up like a little bottle of soda and blew...all over a recliner. For some reason Mom wasn't too merry that morning.

I'm finally doing my shopping tomorrow. And for no other reason than there's always room for a cute picture, here's a baby panda. I defy anyone to not think he's cute:

The trypto-coma...

2005-11-25T11:50:00.000-08:00

I woke up today with that post-turkey, tryptophan hangover. Dinner was weird, but normal for us. My mother and I cooked-- the whole nine. We made the bird, because you know, it's not a holiday unless we have to fondle dead poultry. It turned out really good, which is nice, because I'll be eating the leftovers for a week. On with the turkey and vegetable soup, turkey sandwiches, stuffing for breakfast, etc...

The bowl of untouched brussel's sprouts in butter sauce that my aunt wanted remains untouched in the fridge. I'm not sure the hungry kids in Somalia would eat those.

I did manage not to burn, cut or generally mangle myself in any way but family holidays are just insanity. What is it about family that just brings out everyone's crazy qualities? My friend was telling me about how his family dinners with his little cousins bring out his inner 10 year-old. Mine tend to resurrect my inner 14 year-old, complete with the urge to slam doors, not speak, and write emo poetry.

At least nothing serious needs to get done today, so I can relax and watch the hours of tv that I recorded yesterday.

...now for the mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie for lunch.

No Cool Points

2005-11-24T02:03:00.000-08:00

I just realized that it is impossible for me to ever be cool again.

Never.

I downloaded several Bryan Adams songs, and not only am I playing them, but I know every word.

I got my sense of humor back in time for me to laugh at myself. Spiffy. Oh well, at least it wasn't Lindsay Lohan or something. Even I have standards.

I was woken up around 1 by bangings downstairs that were loud enough to get me to put my pants on and go check it out. I know, I've seen that movie, but I wanted to know why the fuck there were crazy noises coming from the living room. I got down there, all the lights are on and my aunt is nowhere in sight, and the front door is unlocked. My sleep-addled mind started processing my horror movie trivia and then I realized she was just down in the basement, looking at our books and the noises were her banging up and down the basement steps. Jason was not swinging his machete in my dining room, decapitating our candles. Nor was Leatherface defacing our couches with his trusty chainsaw.

Oops. Overreaction. My bad.

Ok, I need to fall asleep again, the AM is going to come fast, and my day is going to chock full of spending too much time in a hot kitchen, eating too much cheese and crackers and probably burning myself at least twice on two different hot surfaces.

'Tis the Season

2005-11-23T15:49:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is the Holiday of The Great Bird. When families come together, eat, drink, and argue in grand tradition.

I'm cooking with mom, and my aunt is coming. I'll be honest, and I know everyone has felt this at some point or another about a family member, but my aunt just bothers me sometimes. I feel awful about it, because she's family but damn it... she's a chronic apologizer and that drives me insane. "I'm sorry I can't afford more," "I'm sorry I'm not in a better mood," etc. She's family! We don't care if she even comes to Christmas with gifts at all! We just want her to be comfortable and happy. Outside of the incessant apologies for nothing, she's constantly late, and lost. My birthday was messed up because she was late getting here. Granted, everything went to shit after that, but I was just feeling let down.

The biggest thing that bothers me is that she's in a bad relationship with a spineless shit that's sponging off her and making her feel awful about herself. Not a month goes by that my mom and I don't get a crying phone call from her about her asswipe fiance telling her she's fat or about how unhappy she is with him. We tell her she would be ok without him and her response is invariably, "But I love him." ARG. She feels like she needs a man to survive, despite the fact that she pays all the bills and she's not happy.

She's got a history of pretty serious depression, so I worry about her. I can't stand that dipshit she's engaged to, but there's nothing my mother and I can do but be there for her. And because of that, I feel twice as awful that I get irritated with her.

Ahhh. Family.

(And yes. My aunt just called to say that she lost the first page of her directions. Never fails. When she gets here I'll make her a pot of coffee, which she will drink in it's entirety. She will then raid our fridge for leftovers, which she will eat cold, and often mixed together [think goulash, and cold chicken soup.] She will apologize at least 6 times for getting lost, and then will ask me if I like her hair. I will lie, because I don't want to hurt her feelings. Then when mom gets home all the apologizing and self-degrading jokes will start over again.)

Sigh. I always have to be the happy one, trying to cheer my mom up when she gets irritated with her sister (never in front of her,) and being cheerful with my aunt. It gets tiring.

Ahhh. Family. You can't pick your family, but you can pick your battles.

Big Girls Do Cry. A Lot.

2005-11-21T00:25:00.000-08:00

*geek* I went to go see Harry Potter today, and being the overexcited geek that I am...I couldn't wait. And that's right, I'm going again after Thanksgiving.

I absolutely loved it. I did end up crying in a few places though (I am the biggest softie, I cry too easily when I watch sad tv or movies.) I even got misty-eyed when one of the previews was a commercial for St. Jude's Children's Hospital. Little crying bald-headed sick kids just set me off. I teared-up some twice while watching the movie itself. Yeah, I'm that bad. So what! It was sad.

I won't be too uber-nerd about it, but I think they did a great job condensing a 700+ page book into a two and a half hour long movie. I was so caught up in it that I really didn't realize it was so long. They left out some cool stuff, but it's better to read it all in the book, it didn't bug me since I already knew the story. I don't mind being a geek about it, it's just entertainment and it's a fantastic story.

The theater was packed, and we were so lucky as to get to sit in the second row at the extreme left :-/ My neck protested. We should have gotten there sooner. The odd thing is, this one was PG-13, and while it's a tad silly that I haven't had to worry about that for some 11 years now-- there were a ton of small kids there. And for a movie of that genre, it was fairly violent and scary. I hope those parents were ready for questions about death afterwards. Then again, kids are probably more immune to all that now, and I don't know if that's irritating or just sad.

Dragons are cool.*/geek*

On a less nerdtastic note... I've discovered that buying a new cell phone simply serves to remind me that hardly anyone calls. So I am content to screw around with the camera and take pictures of anything that catches my eye.

...Thank you R. Kelly

2005-11-20T02:07:00.000-08:00

I don't know how it happened, but like reality slips away from a celebrity, my sense of humor left me for no reason over the last week.

It drained away as I got massive paper cuts handling the letters from all the government agencies that have my name now because of the civil service exam. Hey government people-- less letters-- more job offers!

It has frozen in the NY wind, and dried up like dead leaves. Damn, dead leaves... I have to rake the lawn again.

I woke up, and POOF! It left me, like Paris Hilton's sense of self-respect-- or the integrity of her Bentley's front bumper.

But something magical happened when I watched TV on Friday. I tuned into Best Week Ever partway through, just in time to see R. Kelly emote and gesticulate his way through what I think was the latest chapter of "Trapped in the Closet." My worries melted away. As much as it sucks to be unemployed in what will soon be a frozen wasteland-- at least I'm not R. Kelly.

You know, though-- if R. Kelly can't have a pointless and self-aggrandizing, never-ending series of videos that star a midget that shits himself at gunpoint-- the terrorists will have won.

Party on R. Kelly. Celebrate with your urinating-on-teenagers self. Thank you, for giving me back my sense of humor.

Thinking about a friend...

2005-11-12T02:15:00.000-08:00

Perhaps it's my lack of sleep and or my tendency for introspection lately, but I've been thinking about my friends. Specifically how I don't get to see them often enough. There's one male friend of mine that I hope that I never lose contact with. For the sake of anonymity I'll call him Mike. For some reason, he's been on my mind a lot lately.

I met him my junior year of college at a meeting for a certain extracurricular club I was up to my eyeballs in. Whatever made him join my table, I'm glad for it. It seemed like immediately we were just good friends. I got very close with Mike and his roommates, to the point where I actually more or less lived with them. I never brought a bag over, or left anything of mine there but somehow I ended up staying there at least 4 nights a week. My roommate pretty much got a free single that semester.

Mike found out that I am terrified of gory movies. I have no stomach for them, so he decided that he'd be the one to help me get used to the violence. Those guys sat with me and watched tons of slasher flicks and horror movies-- and rarely even laughed as I hid behind a pillow, shouting at the idiot bimbos onscreen (I maintain, if you are blonde and have sex in a horror movie-- you may as well just run AT the machete/gun/chainsaw.) We ate tons of pizza and I never felt more comfortable than when I was there. Mike and his roommates saw me right when I woke up, at 4 am, dressed up and in my busted up sweats. In fact, it was such a comfortable environment that I slept in Mike's bed (he was in an extra bed, there was no hanky-panky,) but I wore less to sleep in his bed than I did in my own room-- since I can't sleep in jeans. I could have just kept a bag there, but I didn't want to be a pain (although they told me every time to do it anyway.) Oh well, his t-shirts were comfortable.

We joked around that we would write a movie together. It would be a horror spoof of chick flicks. We wanted to make a major hollywood guy get leprosy in a movie, and the title would be "I Love You To Pieces." I call intellectual property rights on that, since we still plan to write it. We were up very, very late one night and he made some crack about how we were half-assed. I pointed out that if we were both half-assed, together we made a whole ass. We still laugh about that now.

Then it got a bit weird. I started to kind of like Mike. It was strange because I knew that it was stupid. He was my best friend and that Never works out. Soon it was like everyone and their cousin knew, but we were still friends. To this day I am SO grateful that he never called me out on that. We've since joked about it a little, but it's mostly just part of the past.

Despite all that dramatic bullshit, I still look back on that year with the rose-colored glasses. I even managed to get a 3.33 gpa then somehow. I don't know how-- I never studied and I may has well could have been majoring in weed and pizza, with a minor in B-movies.

He graduated a semester ahead of me, due to my piss poor academic planning that caused me to need a 9th semester. I missed him like an amputated leg.

Last year I ended up in a situation that left me feeling totally SOL and alone. I called Mike and he talked me out of my hysteria. I'll always be grateful he listened to me and calmed me down.

Then, all of a sudden he seemed to drop off the face of the planet. He lives several hours away, so we kept in contact via email and phone. He wasn't returning my calls and I didn't hear from him for over 3 months. I was worried that he had been mugged and was lying undiscovered in a ditch somewhere (so sue me, I watch too much CSI.) Then one night I got an email from him out of the blue. It was really long and it started with an apology and he admitted he'd been avoiding me. Then he told me why-- he'd come out. He didn't know how to tell me that he was gay. I had no clue, and I was just blown away. But I didn't give a damn about his preferences, I was just glad to see he was ok. I know it's probably lame, but I kept his email. I read it when I feel low.

I have no clue why he's been in the forefront of my thoughts lately, but I know he's been going through a tough time right now, so I want to give him a call tomorrow. I just want to make sure he's ok.

Darwin says..."Almost...Almost...Damn!"

2005-11-11T03:46:00.000-08:00

Must be nice to be a uber-rich brat child: Paris Hilton has survived a minor car crash caused by her idiot boyfriend driving her Bentley with his coat over his head to foil the paparazzi-- by doing so he drove into the back of a truck twice and nearly took out a pedestrian. No tickets were given, no sobriety tests were taken (despite another passenger saying "I'm the only sober one!") and we can all say it together... DAMN IT.

I swear after the apocalypse, all that will be left are cockroaches, twinkies, Keith Richards and Paris Hilton. The fate of the human population will have to rest on the Human Drug Raisin and the Drunken Ho-bag.

"Apoco..Apoka-whatever, the end of the world is hot."

If it were anyone else, of the non-super-wealthy set, their asses would be cooling on a jail bench as we speak. They'd be waiting for their public defender to show up, and booked on DWI and public intoxication charges. They'd have the case covered on some "World's Worst Drivers" clip show on SpikeTV, instead of walking away freely and not having a single worry about such silly things as personal responsibility.

And in other news, Enrique Iglesias said he wants to endorse a line of extra-small condoms. I think this is likely a joke. But hey, who knows? I don't care, he's still pretty.

This blows.

2005-11-07T04:29:00.000-08:00

Damn it.

It's 4:30 in the morning and I can't sleep.

This is getting rediculous.

"I am the great Cornholio!"

2005-11-04T01:52:00.000-08:00

Comedy Central has been bringing me back a decade every night lately.

They've been playing old episodes of Beavis and Butthead. Everyone either loved or hated that show. Back when they were huge my mother was dating a man with two sons my age, so I had to love it or I'd have gone insane. I'm not sure why those two cartoon idiots grew on me so much. I suppose for one, they reminded me of so many guys I knew. Secondly, I was 13 years old and stuck in a small town where so many of the people seemed like caricatures in my angsty-pissy teenage mind. Also, it spawned a nickname for me that stuck for years.

Those two morons made me laugh, and they still do. I don't think that makes me immature. There's just something stupidly funny about Butthead turning "Worker's Compensation" into "Worker's Constipation." I still think they're funny-- just not necessarily to the point I did at 13, when everything was a possible sexual innuendo-- especially hanging out with boys most of the time.

So I point to today's cartoons and the uproar over "Family Values." I find it amusing. I'm proof that a kid can grow up steeped in relatively stupid, violent cartoons and be fine. I watched Beavis and Butthead play frog baseball, start fires, accidentally poison themselves with bug spray, play with chainsaws and beat on each other-- but I never got into any trouble. Every kid is different, but with some attention paid to what they are consuming off of the Great Glass Babysitter it conceivably should be ok. I'd also like to note that educational or historical shows shouldn't be ignored. Not only because they are interesting, but because they can prepare you to be unstoppable at Trivial Pursuit later in life.

Obviously I'm not saying all kids should have unlimited, unsupervised access to television... I just don't think it should be a scapegoat. If people must protest something for their children (younger and older,) might I suggest they give SpongeBob and South Park a break and try unfair school funding in urban areas, gender stereotyping in grade school, low pay for teachers or restricted access to honest sex education?

Speaking of tv controversies, may I never hear of the Superbowl Nipplegate Crisis ever again. I can't believe that still comes up. I still blame MTV for that overwhelming shitstorm.

(Once in a while I miss the late nights of gorging on MTV, though. Excuse me while I shed a tear over the downfall of oldschool Music TeleVision...I used to love you! Now... I can't bear to watch.)

Myspace Venting.

2005-11-02T12:55:00.000-08:00

I have to vent about Myspace. I'm on there to keep in touch with friends, and to a certain point it's pretty cool. Not always, though. The beauty and ugly of it is that any idiot with computer access can build a profile. As much as I like the pros of the system, there are a few things that really rank high up on my pet peeves list.

1) People that use the word "gay" as an insult, or as a general description. As in "Here's another gay ass survey," or "Stop being so gay." It makes me grind my teeth when I see that.

2) A complete lack of decent spelling, a nasty fear of punctuation and TOTALLY UnNeCeSsArY CAPS OR EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!111!!! I make my share of typos, but I try and catch them before I mail them out to a hundred or more people. Perhaps it's my ego, but I don't like to be seen as stupid. I guess that's just not an issue for them.

3) Sending out 8 or more surveys at a time (they're silly lists of random questions-- they can be fun. They're like booze, probably wiser to use in moderation, but few do.) Most of them have very similiar, if not exactly the same questions. I like reading them, but not seeing them clog my bulletin box.

4) With Myspace there is the capability to post up to 12 pictures on each profile. What bugs me is that when some people post new pictures they send out a bulletin demanding comments. It's annoying. Sometimes I can't think of anything interesting to say, so I'd rather not say anything. I don't enjoy having someone being pushy about wanting tons of people to see their photos.

5) There's a big problem on Myspace with people playing collector and trying to collect as many "Friends" as possible. I think it's insane for someone to have thousands of friends if they have no intention of even speaking to any of them. It's lame to add huge bunches of people. It does not make them look cool, and I just wish it would sink in.

6) There are sites to create a background for your profile, and it seems that bright obnoxious pink and lime green are the new colors in vogue. Shiny colors with blinking, flashing, twinkling graphics that would send the nearest epilectic into a seizure the likes of those caused by anime. For some reason, people seem to think that 945 pictures are necessary to create the perfect look and it slows down my computer to the point where I think it's creaking.

7) The age limit is 14. I once recieved an email from a guy named "Mike," that said "What's up?" I mistakenly assumed that it was a different Mike. I replied, and then took a quick look at his profile-- he was 15. Why in the world would a 15 year-old kid be writing to me? I have dishes in my kitchen that are older than him. I like the chance to keep in touch with my old friends easily, but I'm not really hot on the prospect of becoming a casualty in the hormonal overtaking of the Myspace service.

8) I listed my high school because it seemed harmless. Imagine my shock when I am contacted by people I haven't spoken to in 7 or more years that all of a sudden want to be BFF. I don't remember a lot of the people listed in the high school listing, and I don't appreciate the people that didn't give a rat's ass about me almost a decade ago suddenly having an interest in my personal life. Maybe it makes me rude, but I quite honestly don't care

9)There are the music or videos that play on a lot of the profiles. Usually I have music of my own playing and I do not need to have the newest 50 Cent song blaring out over the top. I don't get how people can have 3 or more videos going at once. Maybe it's just me and I don't have the concentration to handle it, but I don't think so.

10) Another issue I have with the bulletins is the chance I have of finding some moral lesson in my inbox. Haven't those glurge forwards died yet? I understand that drunk driving is a horrible thing, but I do not need a set of graphic burn victim photos to prove it to myself-- yet they ended up in my inbox. That poem about teenage binge drinkers that crash and die has shown up numerous times. Another frequent email I get is the "If you're not ashamed of your love for Jesus-- send this out." What? I've never been real tight with Jesus, so what's with trying to make me feel guilty? And there are those awful idiotic forwards that have things like "Send this out in 7 minutes or you'll never have sex ever again!" or "Mail this to all your friends or Satan and Celine Dion will crash through your bedroom window tonight!" at the end. If it sounds stupid, it probably is and it shouldn't be mailed out en masse, or at least don't send it to me.

Ahh... I feel better now.

Happy Halloween

2005-10-31T22:45:00.000-08:00

In honor of Halloween, I wanted to post a cute pic. No real reason, but it can't hurt to look at a kitten.

We got a grand total of 4 trick or treaters. Oh well. This just means I have a helluva supply of peppermint patties and now and laters for awhile. Those 4 were very cute. Especially the tiny little girl that was dressed as a pink carebear. I was speaking to a friend of mine in England and she saw a little 3 year-old boy dressed as a zombie, and when she asked what he was he said he was a "zombwee." Aww.

Well I'll be damned...

2005-10-28T00:05:00.000-07:00

As of midnight... I'm now 24.

I'm assuming it's rather anti-climactic, but still pretty cool. Last year I had a couple then-friends that planned a party for me. It was fun, but I was picking confetti out of my hair for days. I refuse to talk to them anymore, for reasons I don't particularly think need to be published. This year I have no plans, for lack of money and friends nearby. Honestly, I'd rather have not much in the way of plans-- it's better than being around those former friends of mine. My mother and aunt are taking me shopping, and that'll be great. Then I think we'll make dinner or go out to eat somewhere. I'm fine as long as they don't get the waitstaff to sing to me. I'm not expecting much of a fuss. I'm just glad I made it to another birthday (just check out my accident timeline-- I'm lucky I didn't Darwin myself out of the genepool haha.)

At least this week I can get some mail that doesn't require me to write a check ;)

EDIT:

I just wanted to add what actually happened today.

My aunt drove up. She got here an hour and a half late, but really that wasn't much of a surprise. We piled into my mother's car to go to the mall, and we got about a half mile away from home when the car started to sputter, shake and buck like mad. We pulled to the side of the busy road and it got worse. We barely got the car back into our driveway.

So, plans totally shot. My mom just felt wrecked. She got the damn car tuned up last Thursday, to the tune of 1700 dollars. It's got 90,000 miles on it, but it was running just fine before they "fixed" it. Ideally, after that tune up, new brakes and wiring...it should be running fine. The car's 8 years old, but it's never, ever done that before. What really got me was that my mom was feeling guilty for "ruining" my birthday. I set her straight. Her bum car is more important than me getting a new pair of sneakers. It't not like October 28th was cancelled. It's just a day. Anything we were planning on doing can be done another day.

No mall, but we had to take my aunt's car to the grocery store since we were out of everything but toilet paper (but in the end, isn't that ultimately important?) We made it quick. We had to stop at the car dealership to pick up mom's loaner car. So not fun. By the time we got home it was 3:30 and I hadn't eaten anything yet. My birthday dinner was a turkey sandwich, and I made my own birthday cake (2-layer white cake, with raspberry filling and white chocolate frosting.) I didn't mind it, it was a box mix and I like baking.

I spent my day waiting for my aunt, waiting for a tow truck, waiting at a car dealership and then taking a nap. And to think people thought I was going to go out and be crazy.

I got a bunch of emails and phone calls from friends. They're the greatest. I've felt so isolated lately that their simple gestures really saved today from being the lamest birthday I've ever had. Each message made me smile and made me relax, and I think I'll sleep well tonight.

I'm almost amused by how wrong things went. Hey, no matter what happened-- I'm officially 24.

Can the gods make me tired?

2005-10-24T07:46:00.000-07:00

As usual, my insomnia kept me awake far later than is wise. For some reason I woke up at 7, though. That gave me 3 hours of sleep. I'm hoping I can fall asleep again before 9.

My problem is sleep-onset insomnia. It takes me forever to fall asleep and I wake up easily. Once I'm up, I'm up. There's too much running through my head to relax. I have to pull out my old standard, my giant book on Egyptian archaeology. It gets me to concentrate enough to fall asleep.

Yes, I'm a geek.

Halloween Is A Tradition

2005-10-24T02:42:00.000-07:00

Damn the bat-shaped peppermint patties for tasting so good!

Now that I have that out of my system...

I'm really excited that I'm living somewhere where there's going to be trick-or-treating kids. Granted we used to get them at school, great loads of candy-grabbers that trekked through my giant residence hall clutching heavy bags or pillowcases. After graduation I lived in an apartment complex that was just not conducive to trick-or-treating. Now I'm in this new house and we have a ton of candy to give out. I remember how fun it was until I was too old to go. That was, at least, one upside to living in a very small community. Damn near everyone had their porch lights on for us.

However now that I'm in charge of candy dispersal I have my own issues with those people that are out doing their own candy-begging.

1) If you have pubic hair or your voice has changed-- stop. You are too old.

2) If you damage anything on my porch I will uphold my right to wave a broom at you and be "that neighbor" that yells "GET OFF MY LAWN!" I've had a pumpkin smashed before and the sheer carnage is horrific. If eggs or TP get anywhere near this house I'll have the cops on speed dial.

3) Parents that carry their own bags bother me. If you can make mortgage or rent payments, you can buy your own candy.

4) If you insult me, I won't give you anything and give twice as much to the other kids with you.

5) All costumes are cool...but if you come dressed as "broke frat boy" or "sexy bunny/cat/devil" I'll throw a mini gourd at you.

There is a bright side to me being a bitch.

1) I promise to never, EVER give out those awful orange or black-wrapped taffy/peanut butter things that NO ONE EVER LIKES. We have premium candy here.

2) I won't ever give out toothbrushes. Or floss. Or pennies. Or apples. Or trading cards. Or popcorn balls. All of which I've gotten and had to throw out.

3) I will compliment every kid on whatever they're wearing.

I miss dressing up. Right up until last year I had a reason to get all duded up as something or other. Last year was a bit of a disaster. I ordered a costume online and counting shipping it cost me over 70 bucks. It turned out to be a matronly, ill-fitting mess of a gothic dress. I wore it with the kids at work and then wore my little black cocktail dress out to the party I went to. I also learned that night that fake eyelashes are the cosmetic appendages of the devil himself. They started to fall off and my face looked like it was molting.

In college I had the best time, despite the fact that my costumes were usually last-minute. 3 years ago I'd just turned 21 and I'd dressed as Hermione from Harry Potter. Basically that consisted of a purple velvet witches hat, a wand and black clothing. That night is a bit of a blur, and despite pictorial proof I choose to believe that certain things were not seen. On a semi-related note-- vodka-soaked gummi bears are evil.

Two years ago was probably the best, if out of character for me. I decided to be a vampire. Again, there was the black pants, and a black shirt with fishnet sleeves. The shirt posed an interesting issue. I wanted to show a little cleavage so I cut a slit in the neckline while I was wearing it to gauge how low it went. Then when I tried to pull it off it ripped another inch and a half. Clear nail polish on the edges kept me from getting a ticket for indecent exposure. I ended up naming the shirt my "baby's ass-smuggling" shirt. I have to have a sense of humor about it. I found this fantastic cheap wig that was black, curly and fell to my waist. I bought some sweet fake fangs to go with all the red and black jewelry.

Then I found out that I couldn't speak, drink or function with the fangs in, so I had to take them out. Everyone kept asking me what I was so I just began to say I was Elvira. It was great fun, but I was happy to change back into sweats at the end of the night.

This year I'll just paint my face up somehow. I have enough makeup lying around to do something bizarre.

Accident Timeline

2005-10-21T23:28:00.000-07:00

I've always been a klutzy person. I don't get injured as much as I used to, but I still trip over my own feet and walk into walls. I did rip this idea off from LindsayQuinn-- http://lindseyquinn.blogspot.com/ , but I changed the format since I can't remember any dates.

I count this because it was an accident. I was about a year old. It was not long after my mom went back to work and I was with my first babysitter. Apparently I found one of her cat's toys and chewed on it until the catnip inside fell out. So I did what babies do with new things, and I crammed it into my mouth. My babsitter found me gnawing on a ball of catnip, so she called my mom- who proceeded to go crazy with worry about me being poisoned. She called my doctor who told her "She'll be ok, she'll just be...hyper...for a little while."

When I was about 5 or 6 my knees were constantly scraped up. In fact, throughout elementary school (and why kid...high school as well) I was well-known by the school nurse to come in to ask for band-aids. I always kid with my mom that if she had ever lost me that she would have to put my face on a band-aid box and not a milk carton. One time I was goofing around with my dog and she knocked me down. I re-opened a cut on my knee. I still have the scar. I also banged my head on the sidewalk. Nothing new.

I learned how to ride my bike at 7-- and rolled it, flipped it, and crashed it. All the time. I lived on a hill and I used to love huffing and puffing my way up to the top and cruising down. My mother came outside to watch me do it one afternoon. I did fine until my bike hit a rock. I flew off and continued on down the hill full-speed on my knees.

Then once I was on a long bike trip around town with a few friends, we were on the side of the road and it was very sandy. My front tire slipped off the edge of the pavement, dug into the sand and I flew over the handlebars and smacked down ribcage-first onto the road. It knocked the wind out of me, I scraped my chin, knees, and hands. My glasses flew about 4 feet when I landed.

I went to tennis camp at 12 in Florida, at the University of Gainesville. My group was walking across a parking lot together and I tripped over my feet and ended up skidding on the pavement for a few feet on my face. The left side of my face was a giant scrape. They don't make band-aids that big, and the huge scab ended up coming off when I was in the pool. They don't make therapy for that.

Then, at about 13, I wanted to learn how to rollerblade. I used an old pair belonging to my mom's boyfriend's son. I was in the middle of the road when my ankle rolled and I dropped. I bruised my ass, and scraped my hands again. I couldn't get up and one of my friends had to help me get out of the way of a car. Did I mention we were out there at night?

Also at 13 I was hit in the face by a backpack in the hallway at school. I didn't realize my nose was bleeding til a teacher flipped out and told me to go to the nurse. Turned out the bridge of my glasses had been shoved onto my face so hard that it had cut me. Quite the badass geek injury.

At 14 I had a tiny pocketknife that I used to play with (yeah, I should have known better.) Until it shut on my right middle finger and cut down the bone. I should have gotten stitches, but I was too busy waving my hand around like a total spaz and swearing. I still have the scar for that too.

Also at 14 I was accidentally hit in the back of the head with a golf club (2-iron, to be specific) during gym class. I blacked out and hit my knees. I was out for about 10 seconds, I think. I finished the mini course the teachers set up and then told my gym teacher. She immediately told me to get to the nurse (it had been about a day since I'd last seen her.) I was given an ice pack and advice not to fall asleep.

Also at 14 I got caught in a riptide when boogie boarding on Wilmington Beach with a friend. I freaked out and had an asthma attack and my friend and I had to be pulled onshore. My info is presumably still on file with the Beach Police. In the last 9 years I've only been immersed in the ocean once-- snorkeling in St. Thomas.

Between 15 and 18 I was too busy being an angsty mess to really notice much else. But when I was 17 one of my friends was kidding around and pushed me on a flight of stairs. I fell and knocked my kneecap out of alignment. Worst pain to date with the exception of migraines.

In college most of my injuries were of the "Unidentified and Drunken" variety. Nothing new.

The summer before last I was shopping with my mother and as I stepped off of a curb my trick ankle rolled again, so I fell and landed on it. I sprained it by falling on it. Unfortunately at the time I was working at a summer camp with tons of kids, and the requirement to teach nature classes. I hobbled my way around until my boss was wise enough to realize that I was horrible with nature and shifted me to another position.

And last week I was trying to put some lotion on my legs after I shaved. I propped my leg up on my bed and somehow got my foot caught in the footboard. I scraped my knee on my bedframe (never too old for that!) and crashed into my chair. While I didn't fall down, I felt like the world's biggest idiot.

But since no one saw me, all I can do is laugh. My birthday is in a week, and I just wonder if I'll continue to be a klutz for another year. The magic-8 ball says-- All signs point to YES.

Sockfooted in the Pit

2005-10-17T20:28:00.000-07:00

I got back earlier today from my trip downstate . Honestly, it was exactly what I needed. It'd been too long.

The highlight was yesterday. We got all dolled up (to the point where I actually want the pictures to turn out well) and drove down to Hartford CT to see My Chemical Romance. They're her favorite band and I'd have to be an idiot to turn down a ticket. We got a room at the Super 8 closest to the CT Expo Center and as we waited for our cab to bring us to downtown Hartford for dinner my friend got the shock of the month when the lead guitarist for MCR walked past us. She went over to talk to him and he seemed really cool, but maybe just not too used to people approaching him.

We had dinner at a place called CitySteam. I totally recommend it to anyone that'll be in Hartford. And since we were taking cabs everywhere, we were doing some drinking. My friend went for cosmos... I did my usual "hmm... that name sounds interesting..." tactic in choosing a drink and ended up with something called a Border Patrol-- in which the first three ingredients were Yukon Jack, tequila and Jim Beam. With a splash of juice for color. Somehow it tasted good. I'd say it brought back memories but my nights drinking Beam and tequila are a tad hazy...

Yeah, so I had 3. I was fine, though. We were just in a really good mood.

After dinner I was already cursing my stupidity in wearing a pair of Jenny's boots instead of my beat up sandals. Then again, stupidity should be painful. They looked fantastic, until I found myself hobbled like an elderly horse.

The doors opened at 6, but as we waited in line I came to a disturbing realization...

I am getting OLD. Not physically, but mentally. There were so many teenagers there that I felt like a chaperone. Not a good feeling. I'm fairly sure I have t-shirts older than those kids. I was amused by the "I'm Different Just Like Everyone Else" feeling that they all had. The only thing that's changed in the 10 years since I was 13 is there's more black makeup and less use of the words "grody" and "spaz."

We were a little confused. It seemed almost as though any guy between the ages of 16 and 30 had been barred entry-- but now that I think back, there was a conspicuous abscence of anyone aged 16-30. It was a little unnerving at first.

The show itself was unbelievable. Reggie and the Full Effect and Alkaline Trio opened. But the agony of my feet was starting to really detract from my fun. So since the whole place was general admission and it was a pretty chill crowd (despite the overwhelming stench of raging hormones and bad cologne,) I took the offending boots off and carried them wrapped up in my jacket. So there I was, sockfooted in the crowd. And never Not Once was I stepped on. So what if I looked like a total fool, I felt better. I was talking to a girl that was working at the door and she asked where my shoes were and pointed at my uber-non-sexy white athletic socks. I explained that they were killing me, and if I had to put them back on I would. She just laughed at told me to pull the hem of my jeans down to cover my feet.

MCR came on and it just was deafening in that concrete-floored open space. However, with taking my boots off I shrunk from 5'8" back to 5'5" in a crowd full of people taller than me. I was having a great time, enough to forget for a little while what was still waiting for me so impatiently back here at home. They sound amazing live, and it was a nice change from the maudlin music I've been listening to lately. The last song of their encore was "I'm Not Ok (I Promise)" and I'm absolutely not embarassed to say that even though I lost my voice I was still drowned out by the people around me.

After the show ended my friend wanted to try and meet the band out by the busses. We sat on the curb with 3 other girls (the first really NICE people we'd met all night, if you didn't count that girl at the door and the bartenders.) We waited for over an hour, but it was getting really cold and my poor sock feet were getting numb (and they were at this point more of a dingy gray color by this time.) On the bright side, we met the band's dog on the walk back to the Super 8. Well, we spoke to the guy chasing after the dog, anyway. I couldn't figure out why in the world he'd pick the tiny little jack russell up by the skin on its neck/back, but even though the dog didn't protest and it didn't hurt him...I was hoping he'd pee on the guy's shoes. We walked back to the hotel, past the adult bookstore with the creepy guys hanging around the parking lot and finally got to sit down.

Holy hell, 7:30 AM came fast, though. We got back to her place by 10, and by 12 I was on my train... by 2:30 I was asleep in my own bed. Nice.

Totally worth it.

Why does the laundry never seem to end??

2005-10-13T02:02:00.000-07:00

I'm getting ready to go to my friend's place this weekend. My train tickets have arrived and I'm doing laundry (like that's anything new.) I've gotten together a pile of pictures she's never seen, a bunch of me at my old job, some of my new baby cousin and random shots of the last year. I even have the formal photos taken while I was on a cruise last October. Despite the fact that we've been friends for 4 years, she's never seen me dressed formally.

I mentioned that I'm taking the train. I have this "thing" about travel. Every time I fly I invariably end up seeing some documentary like "WHY PLANES CRASH" the night before. In one instance I caught a rerun of CSI the night before I flew to FL-- it was about a guy going ballistic and being killed by other passengers. Now I see that my travel "thing" isn't limited to planes. Today I turned on the news and first thing I saw was a story about a train derailment about a half hour away from here. 18 cars jumped the tracks. Thankfully no one was hurt.

Grrrreat. Then again, I'd walk if I had to.

I was talking to my mother today and mentioned a cute story about my brother. When he was 7 and I was 17, we were both at my friend's house and my brother asked if we could go swimming in the lake. I told him I couldn't. He asked why, and I just reiterated that I couldn't that day. My friend immediately understood why-- because I'd just gotten my period. But my brother just nodded his head and said solemnly, "I know why you don't want to go swimming." I was surprised and asked, "You do? What have you been learning in school??" He nodded again and said, "You don't want to get your glasses wet."

What could I say to that besides, "Yep, you're right."

Karaoke...still going.

2005-10-11T00:38:00.000-07:00

I got my hair cut today. FINALLY. It was taking over my head. I got damn near 7 inches cut off and it's still down to my shoulders. It feels funny. I have to get used to it and stop using so much shampoo. I maintain that a good haircut can do wonders. It's like Prozac without the prescription for me.

I'm making a new playlist for MP3 player for this weekend. It only holds about 50 songs max (I can really only have jealous dreams of the Nano for now.) Whatever, my little baby works perfectly. I love this playlist, it's all over the map. I should be a bit embarassed about a few of the songs, but I refuse. This is more or less my bedroom karaoke set list as well.

1) Richard Marx "Hold Onto The Night"
2) Richard Marx "Right Here Waiting"
3) Natalie "Goin' Crazy"
4) Rockwell "Somebody's Watching Me"
5) Ludacris "Get Back"
6) Dido "White Flag"
7) Genesis "No Son Of Mine"
8) Michael Buble "Home"
9) Sheryl Crow "The First Cut Is The Deepest"
10) The Police "King Of Pain"
11) Michael Bolton "How Am I Supposed To Live Without You"
12) Whitney Houston "Heartbreak Hotel"
13) 50 Cent "Candy Shop"
14) 50 Cent "Disco Inferno"
15) The Corrs "One Night"
16) Linkin Park "A Place For My Head"
17) 98* "The Hardest Thing"
18) Staind "So Far Away"
19) Howie Day "Collide"
20) Armageddon soundtrack "Leaving On A Jet Plane"
21) Jo Dee Messina "My Give A Damn's Busted"
22) Garth Brooks "What She's Doing Now"
23) Joe Nichols "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off"
24) Green Day "Wake Me Up When September Ends"
25) Kanye West "Gold Digger"
26) Dido "Sand In My Shoes"
27) Dashboard Confessional "Vindicated"
28) Garth Brooks "The River"
29) Ani Difranco "What If No One's Watching"
30) Aaron Lewis/Fred Durst "Outside Live"
31) Martika "Cross My Heart"
32) Mr. Mister "Broken Wings"
33) Tommy Lee "Hold Me Down"
34) Tommy Lee "Trying To Be Me"
35) Tim McGraw "Do You Want Fries With That"
36) Ace Of Base "Don't Turn Around"
37) Martika "Toy Soldiers"
38) Annie Lennox "Into The West"
39) Staind "Zoe Jane"

I actually have a request for anyone that may read this. Could you just leave the names of some of your favorite songs? 80's, 90's, recent...whatever genre. I gave up on the radio and I'm always looking for new stuff (or trying to remember who sang some one hit wonder in the 80's.) Thanks!

Killin' Time...

2005-10-10T00:36:00.000-07:00

1. Have you ever been searched by the cops? no, I don't usually attract police attention. I like it that way.

2. Do you close your eyes on rollercoasters? yes, because I'm deathly sure that I'm going to fly off the tracks and I don't want to see the ground coming.

3. When's the last time you've been sleigh riding? Likely about 10 years ago-- I went sledding all the time when I was younger, which meant that I threw myself down a very steep hill on a pre-formed plastic disk. I usually didn't aim for the ice jumps, but hit them anyway. I guess it's just not childhood if you don't lose consciousness in a snowdrift a few times.

4. Would you rather sleep with someone else, or alone? Right now I only want to share my bed with my pillows. And my teddy bear.

5. Do you believe in ghosts? yes, why not?

6. Do you consider yourself creative? yes, once in a while.

7. Do you think O.J. killed his wife? Most likely. I don't think Kato did it.

8. Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie? Brad.

9. Can you honestly say you know anything about politics? yes.

10. Do you know how to play poker? I've played poker once. I actually won.

11. Have you ever been awake for 48 hours straight? I can't do that anymore.

12. Do you kill bugs that are in the house? I vacuum them up.

13. Have you ever cheated on a test? yes, way back on an elementary school spelling test.

14. If you're driving in the middle of the night, and no one is around..do you go through red lights? I don't have to worry about that.

15. Do you have a secret that no one knows but you? Of course.

16. Boston Red Sox or New York Yankees? I'm all for Boston creating a new dynasty-- they can win every 89 years. Other than that-- I'll stick with NY.

17. Have you ever Ice Skated? I tried once-- my ankles wobbled and I fell on my ass more times than I could count. It wasn't worth the pain.

18. How often do you remember your dreams? A few times a week. I usually don't remember the really good ones.

19. When was the last time you laughed so hard you were crying? I'm not sure.

20. Can you name 5 songs by The Beatles? Not off the top of my head, I'm kind of tired.

21. What song are you playing right now? Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional. But I was just listening to "Right Here Waiting" by Richard Marx. My recent playlist is positively schizoid. Everything from Garth Brooks to 50 Cent to Ani Difranco and Genesis. Yikes.

22. Do you believe in love at first sight? Lust and confusion, yes...love, no. Perhaps my glasses are just smudged.

23. Do you know who Ba-Ba-Booey is? I know he's a cartoon character.

24. Do you always wear your seatbelt? Always. I don't risk it.

25. What talent do you wish you had? I wish I could fly. No, I'm serious. In reality-- I wish I could sing better.

26. Do you like Sushi? I like the kinds I've had.

27. Have you ever narrowly avoided a fatal accident? Yes, I suppose I have. The ocean tried to kill me when I was 14. Riptides suck. What sucks more were the shark sightings reported later that day.

28. What do you wear to bed? A t-shirt. I sleep under a very big, very heavy blanket. With my fan on, haha.

29. Have you ever been caught stealing? Nope.

30. Planes, Trains or Automobiles? Trains.

31. Do you truly hate anyone?? Not hate, really... but Pat Robertson makes my head hurt. He's such a jackass.

32. Rock and Roll or Rap? Both. I also think I may be one of the 5 people out there that really liked the Tim McGraw/Nelly collaboration.

33. If you could sleep with one famous person, who would it be? Wentworth Miller.

34. Do you have a relative in prison? Not that I'm aware of.

35. Have you ever sang in front of the mirror like your favorite singer? See #21

36. Do you know how to play chess? Badly.

37. What food do you find disgusting? Onions.

38. Did you ever play, "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours?" No.

39. Have you ever made fun of your friends behind their back? Never to hurt them.

40. Have you ever stood up for someone you hardly knew? Yes.

41. Have you ever been punched in the face? One of my friends accidentally punched me in her sleep when we were in 2nd grade.

42. When is the last time you threw up from drinking to much? Several years ago.

43. Have you ever walked out on a movie at the theater? Yes. I was 12 and went to go see Jurassic Park with my mom and uncle. It scared me so I left and bought a ticket to see Dennis the Menace.

44. Do you ever sit through a bad movie, just to see how bad it can get? not so much now, but yes.

45. Would you consider yourself obsessed with anything? Lost, trying new hair supplies, and Harry Potter.

46. Have you ever met someone famous that you really wanted to meet? I met Lewis Black at school. It was like meeting my hero. On a semi-related note, I once went out with a few other people, along with Howie Day after he played a show I went to. I honestly thought he was a complete tool. He was just rude and although I love his music...I still to this day think he was a jerk.

47. Have you ever been stood up? No.

48. When's the last time you screamed at the top of your lungs? Probably a few days ago when I was thinking about how bad my cell reception is.

49. Did you ever do something that you didn't want to, just to fit in? Hasn't everyone?

50. Do you consider yourself "the biggest fan" of something? Brownies, and Lost.

My muse came back. Didn't even bring me a t-shirt.

2005-10-08T02:01:00.000-07:00

I admit that this is true, despite the fact that I usually write fiction. Don't ask where it came from, I'm just up late and I felt like writing out of the blue. It's so rare that I had to sit down and do it. This isn't something I usually go on and on about, but why not? It can't hurt. Semi-anonymous self-expression is the reason I started this thing ;) I can go back to my regular style tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'll never be a raving beauty. I won't experience the pressure and support given to those that are uncommonly beautiful. It's not that I loathe or fear looking into a mirror, I just don't think I should base my life on the reflection. Or let it control my sense of self-worth.

I was a pretty little girl growing up. I was patted on the head and my parent's friends talked about how "cute" I was. Over time, it changed from "Oh, she's going to be a beauty" to "Oh, but you have a such a beautiful face." I've learned it's easier to tune most of it out.

All those asinine cliches, those pointless words of wisdom, they're sprayed around with all the accuracy of a firehose and the usefulness of a broken vacuum cleaner. It may be wiser to tune those out as well.

Why listen? Where did it become such a standard in this society that to be truly beautiful you need to fit a narrow, confining, strangling ideal? Who decided that was the ideal? My head spins when I try and think about it. So I try not to.

I don't consider my approach to be one of resignation or cynicism. It's simply easier. I have to believe that although my face will never launch a thousand ships, that I'm still a worthwhile person. It sounds silly, but it's harder to do than most people realize. I spent years of my life hating myself or parts of myself for not conforming. I hid myself under dark and shapeless clothing. I drew pictures of myself, labeling what needed to change. I picked my own body apart, from the hair on my head to the shape of my toes. I never realized how hurtful it was until much later.

I deliberately kept others away, in a bastardized version of self-preservation. If I had that space around me, I could control my destiny. Or so I told myself. I hurt the ones that were likely the best to me. I blamed the world for my own dysfunction.

I never starved myself, or gagged like a rich Roman after I ate, but I rigidly feared what others thought of me, and what I ate. I often ate very little in public and then soothed myself with food in private at home. In my quest for control I mistakenly believed that in punishing myself, I was worthy. Every small hurt from others, every joke at my expense, were multiplied in my head and caused me to try even harder to grasp at that elusive control. It became harder to deal with, I started getting mad instead of feeling so down all the time. I should thank college for that.

As time went on I realized that that pressure that I was heaping on myself was undeserved. Just because my body was outside of the "acceptable" didn't mean I should be in pain. I slowly realized that the ones that were outside of that insane archetype far outnumbered those that did. It hit me that even those that were part of that group that I so envied, the women that were beautiful, thin and successful, were heaped with pressures of their own. They worried too, about their bodies and making them perfect. As though anyone could naturally achieve perfection. It finally dawned on me. It wasn't so "ideal" after all.

So why must there be such a stringent standard? Shouldn't the human body itself be considered a masterpiece no matter the shape? I decided to follow my own standards, instead of wishing I looked like Kate Moss. I have bad days, where I get angry that I have to fall back on myself so much in a world of "no fat chicks." I've been lucky, I admit, to find friends that agree with me and smack me out of my brief moments of self-pity. I figure it's better to have a well-developed sense of humor than to shy away from the world.

I may not be that raving beauty on the cover of a magazine, but why should I want to be? I'd rather be myself. From my unruly hair, to the marks on my skin, to the pink polish on my toenails.

Relaxing...

2005-10-06T23:59:00.000-07:00

My grandparents have been up to visit. Consequently my mother has lost her mind, or at least part of it. Once again my little college fridge is being used to store beer. Only this time it's down in the basement and it's storing her beer, instead of mine. It's not that she's hiding it-- but they don't approve. It doesn't matter that she's 48, she's still their oldest baby. Besides, all our books are down in the basement. She can curl up on a couch and get some privacy-- especially since she had to give up her bedroom for them.

They went upstate for a wedding, and our adventure getting a rental car was, shall I say, ulcer-inducing. The traffic was jammed up so badly that it took twice as long to get to the rental agency. At the agency the guy that rented my grandfather the car spoke so loudly that I dubbed him Sir Yells-A-Lot. Perhaps he's under the illusion that senior citizens are all going deaf and senile. My grandfather may be slow physically, but he's anything but senile.

On the way there I saw a newer-model station wagon. Not a unique sight, except that the driver had an entirely-inflated air mattress in the back. It literally filled the back, including the back window. Obviously this was a driver unconcerned with such mundane concepts as safe driving. By the way-- to the guy that was driving a Hummer with vanity plates-- just shove a rolled-up sock down your shorts. It'll be way cheaper, considering rolled-up socks don't get 6 miles to the gallon of overpriced gasoline.

We also passed a nearby nudie bar...oops, Gentleman's Club. It's a slightly seedy-looking, nondescript small building with blacked-out windows and a sign out front that used to read "GIRLS WANTED FOR VARIOUS POSITIONS." They've taken that down, but now they're advertising their air conditioning.

On a good note I'm going away for a few days next week. One of my friends called me and offered me a ticket to a My Chemical Romance show on the 16th in Hartford, Conn. I'm taking the train down. I'll be downstate for a few days and I'm really looking forward to it. I've been friends with her for over 3 years and since we both graduated we don't get to see each other much. She's the one person I know that knows everything about me-- the good, the bad and the extremely regrettable. She's totally non-judgmental and I absolutely love her for it. So we plan on hanging out, drinking martinis and listening to very loud music on the drive to Hartford. I can't wait. Since my birthday is later this month, it'll be nice to get to celebrate with her.

"Whatever happened to Crazy?"

2005-10-01T21:37:00.000-07:00

Ok, I'm past the self-pity portion of my week. I can resume normal thinking.

I passed the test. I took the typing part first and failed it. Then I took it again after the multiple choice and passed it. I don't know how. But I have a paper that said I did. So there. I got an 85 on the multiple choice. I'm not really happy with that, but it's been so long since I took a test that I did the best I could. It was grammar, spelling ( I knew how to spell "acquiesce," but couldn't remember if there were 2 or 3 e's in "preceding",) punctuation, editing and comparisons. I used to be the curve breaker...

Now I'm on a list. Hopefully I hear from someone soon.

I really want to see that movie Waiting-- it's got Dane Cook in it and I love his style (he's on my short list of comedians I must see.) Then I took another look at the trailer and I noticed it also stars Andy Milonakis. That guy gives me a screaming headache. I'd like a few minutes to yell at whomever told Andy Milonakis that he's funny. I've seen funnier homeless men that scream incoherently about armageddon and make crap fingerpaintings on the sidewalk. *sigh* Maybe it's just me.

Perhaps I should stick to watching stand-up. I've got Chris Rock on now.

"You know the world is going crazy when the best rapper is a white guy, the best golfer is a black guy, the tallest guy in the NBA is Chinese, the Swiss hold the America's Cup, France is accusing the U.S. of arrogance, Germany doesn't want to go to war, and the three most powerful men in America are named 'Bush', 'Dick', and 'Colon'."

Did I mention that I hate being tested?

2005-09-30T18:00:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-28T10:08:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-27T01:37:00.000-07:00

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"

2005-09-25T01:54:00.000-07:00

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...

2005-09-23T03:54:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-21T03:30:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-19T18:22:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-17T19:07:00.000-07:00

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?

2005-09-17T02:13:00.000-07:00

...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...

2005-09-15T01:25:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-14T16:13:00.000-07:00

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...

2005-09-11T22:02:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-09T01:26:00.000-07:00

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?

2005-09-06T01:45:00.000-07:00

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!

2005-09-04T23:35:00.000-07:00

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"

2005-09-03T12:32:00.000-07:00

"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!!

2005-09-01T18:07:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-09-01T12:24:00.000-07:00

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:

I thought Dan Akroyd was cute.

2005-08-30T23:50:00.000-07:00

Due to my jobless state, I have more time to be bored while I look for one. I can't take it much longer. I'm actually beginning to regret quitting my old job, but not quite. No, now that I rethink that...I don't think I'll ever miss it.

I miss being able to pay my bills without having my sleep interrupted by thoughts of being broke, and being able to go somewhere without having to plan it being less than 10 dollars. I miss being able to buy new jeans. I miss being able to help with household bills more.

Damn it. I miss being an adult.

:-/

However, due to this abundance of spare time...I'm watching a lot of movies. The latest was the dvd set we have of Ghostbusters and Ghostbusters 2, including 2 episodes of the cartoon that I loved so much. I remember seeing Ghostbusters for the first time; being fascinated with the idea of ghosts and being torn between wanting to see Slimer, and not wanting a Carpathian warlock to try and kill me. I was young and impressionable. Besides, I had a crush on Dan Akroyd. I think I still might.
. Hmm.

Boredom stinks like old garbage...

2005-08-30T14:34:00.000-07:00

1. First name: Well, I was almost named Victoria
2. Were you named after anyone? Technically, one of my names is a deliberate re-spelling of a family name.
3. Do you wish on stars? Once in a while.
4. When did you last cry? Yesterday. It sucks to worry about money.
5. Do you like your handwriting? When I try and make it neat its ok, when I don't-- it looks more like I sneezed the ink onto the paper.
6. What is your favorite lunch meat? Leftover turkey off the bird.
7. What is your birth date? 10/28/81
8. What is your most embarrassing CD? :-/ Sweet Kisses by Jessica Simpson
9. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with yourself? I don't know. Probably.
10. Are you a daredevil? Not really. I don't trust parachutes enough to jump out of a plane, and I would never tie a giant rubber band to myself and dive off a bridge. I don't like driving too fast, either. Shit, I'm boring.
11. Have you ever told a secret you swore not to tell? Once, a long time ago. It almost destroyed a friendship, so I swore I'd never do it again.
12. Do looks matter? Not so much, but some.
13. How do you release anger? Punch pillows and vent to my friends.
14. Where is your second home? What kind of rich bitch do you think I am?
15. Do you trust others too easily? Rarely.
16. What was your favorite toy as a child? Talking Alf doll.
17. What class in high school do you think was totally useless? Gym class. I get the importance of exercise, but why the fuck did they make us beat each other with floor hockey sticks and force me to pretend to be sick to get out of volleyball? ;)
18. Do you have a journal? I'm not writing this on the wall in lipstick.
19. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Nah. Why would I do that?
20. Favorite movie(s)? Of all time? umm... LOTR, Dead Poet's Society, The Evil Dead, Napoleon Dynamite, The Cutting Edge, and Super Troopers...among lots of others.
21. What are your (acceptable) nicknames? Mostly every calls me Dee, there's some other ones, but for the sake of making sure they never come to light again...I'm keeping my yap shut.
22. Would you bungee jump? I already covered that. I'm pretty sure hearing the cord snap would be the last thing I heard before I started screaming and having a massive coronary on the way down.
23. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Nope. April-October I'm in sandals.
24. Do you think that you are strong? After packing and positioning all my belongings...I'm stronger than I thought I was.
25. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Magic Brownie... Ben and Jerry, thank you.
26. What size of shoe do you wear? 9
27. What are your favorite colors? black, pink, purple, blue
28. What is your least favorite thing about yourself? I'm too tough on myself
29. Who do you miss most? My close friends.
30. Do you want everyone you send this to send it back? I try to never send these out.
31. What color pants are you wearing? best gray sweats ever.
32. What are you listening to right now? Shorties Watchin Shorties
33. What was the last thing you ate? leftover singapore lo mein
35. What is the weather like right now? finally, gray skies and a break from the sun.
36. Last person you talked to on the phone? My dad
37. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex? Where their eyes go.
38. Do you like the person who sent this to you? She seems like a nice person
40. Favorite Drink? Peach Snapple/ dark beers
41. Favorite sport? Baseball
42. Hair Color? Dark red
43. Eye Color? Hazel
44. Do you wear contacts? Nope.
45. Favorite Food? Mac n cheese or strawberries
46. Last Movie You Watched? Ghostbusters
47. Favorite Day of the Year? Any day I'm on a legit vacation.
48. Scary Movies or Happy Endings? Creepy movies with decent endings.
49. Winter or Summer? Summer I don't like being overheated...but I hate snow.
50. Hugs or kisses? Both. I'm greedy.
51. What is Your Favorite Dessert? Brownies with raspberries.
52. Who is most likely to respond? NA
53. Who is least likely to respond? NA
54. Where Would You Want to Go on your Next Vacation? Where do I want to go? Jamaica.
55. What Books are you reading? Dreamcatchers by Stephen King, Letting Go by Pamela Morsi
56. What's on your mouse pad? Roadrunner
57. What did you Watch Last Night on TV? CSI: Miami
58. Favorite Smells? Peaches or a nice cologne
59. Rolling Stones or Beatles? the Stones
60. What's the furthest you've been away from home? St. Maarten

I want a dog.

2005-08-29T12:22:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting for 10 years and now, damn it, I want a dog. That "we're for puppies" commercial on tv just about turns me into a hyperactive 5 year-old.

We used to have a cat years ago. It was evil. Or at the very least, it was a twisted creature that used to enjoy ambushing anyone walking past a doorway and scaling up their legs- whether or not they were wearing pants. I'm not a big fan of cats. Over the years my cat allergy has grown to epic proportions, but the oddest thing is that I'm not allergic to every cat. When I'm around one that gets me, though, I may as well just dope myself up on Benadryl and forget my name while I sleep the sleep of the overdosed.

My first dog was a rottweiler. I remember being scared when dad told me he got one, because of all the bad press. What I remember next was turning into a pile of baby-talk mush when I saw the teeny puppy sleeping under our coffee table. I named her Ninja (I blame the Turtles) and she was the greatest dog ever. But we lived in a crowded area and one of my shit-for-brain-animal-abusing neighbors shot her in the head with a BB gun when she was in our front yard. It was worse than you might think. Thankfully, she survived and was fine, but we gave her to a family that had a huge farm so she'd have a happier life. She went on to live almost 10 more years and have a ton of puppies.

I have a dog at my dad's house, but he also has 3 cats. I don't get out there much, and I only refer to her as "my dog" because I'm the one that brought her home as a puppy and put her in my stepmom's lap. It was cute how my dad thought he had a chance to say no. They live an hour away, so I don't get out there much. I want my own dog, here, where I can play with it, go for walks, bond and make homemade dog biscuits.

Now, the big decision is what kind of dog. We know it has to be a smaller breed, and preferably one that's hypoallergenic, or doesn't shed too much with regular grooming. I'm researching local rescue groups for possibilities. I'm partial to rescue dogs because of what happened to Ninja, and my dog at dad's house was found in a snow drift in the woods when she was 6 weeks old. Some jackass abandoned her. Any suggestions?

What? You mean I'll never be Miss America?!

2005-08-26T15:41:00.000-07:00

I went for a walk in my new neighborhood today. They should really invest in a few novel things, such as sidewalks, pothole-filling and maybe even crosswalks. I felt like I was playing frogger. It's not that I'm saying that the drivers around here are bad, just more like they refuse to read signs and rely on faith rather than skill. I'm not driving right now because I know and admit that I need more practice, perhaps others should take my example.

Seeing as how I have to rely on public transportation (which I refer to as "Hell") I had to learn where the closest bus stop is. I judged it to be 3 songs away on my MP3 player. It's not a bad walk, but I imagine it will be far less charming in 2 months when we're hip-deep in snow and I have to dodge plows to get to said bus stop. I've done it before in high school and college (I hate snow, I can't figure out why I went to a school that only closes by order of the Govenor of NY.)

I passed some interesting things. For one, there is a Boy Scout monument, dedicated to all the Boy Scouts of NY state. Two benches and a big rock right by the side of a busy road in a residential area. Riiight. Something tells me that no one sits there to read and contemplate life and the Boy Scout oath.

There's a waterfall nearby, and I'd sit there sometime...but there's this smell there. I don't know what it is or where it's coming from. It smells like hot garbage and diapers baked in the sun and left to soak in the rain. The strangest thing is that it's only noticeable for about 10 feet as I walked by.

I was a sweaty mess when I got back. What? Am I supposed to pretend that after a long walk in the hot sun in the middle of a city that I looked like a Miss America contestant? Hmm... I wish could get a crack at answering some of the questions.

"So... What do you think is the biggest issue in today's society for children?"

"Well. Outside of the fact that more and more of them are trading sex for small favors, doing drugs because theres nothing else to do, and growing steadily dumber in our society that rewards beauty instead of intelligence...why are you cutting me off? I'm not done tal..."

;~)

...off to shower.

Wine-ing about my day...

2005-08-24T01:10:00.000-07:00

We finally own this house!

The closing was today, and one of the most boring things I've ever sat through-- with the exception of a few classes I've had (Computer Skills, for example.)

I don't care how boring it was, though-- it's worth it. One funny thing happened. My mother's lawyer was talking about me and she stopped and asked how old I was. I told her I'm 23 and her jaw just dropped. She seriously thought I was still in high school. Crap, now I wonder if I really look that young. I don't usually get carded too often, but apparently I look like I'm 16.

Maybe it'll hold over until I'm 40 and look 32.

We had a few friends over, and we all drank too much wine and ate too much. Personally, my 5 glasses of wine, 2 glasses of champagne and a strawberry margarita were enough to tire me out. Last time I drank numerous glasses of wine-- I was on a cruise and wandered around the ship singing 80's tunes with other drunk people.

The Man Entry...

2005-08-24T00:35:00.000-07:00

I have to vent about guys for a bit.

It seems to me that every man I meet as of late is in one of these groups:

1) Gay. (self-explanatory. And so often, perfect, if it weren't for that whole dating-other-guys thing.)

2) Stupid. (They're multiplying, I swear. I'm on myspace and I get random messages from guys telling me that they think I'm "cute," or "I like wat I see "

For example-- and this is a REAL message I've recieved.

"hi name is ***** i loved yea add i am from nj i attend college in ny i am 24 be 25 in july i am 5/7 brown eyes brown short hair weigh 185 i love cook sing dance write songs movies music is what i live for i love drink have fun so if you liek message me back here i give you number you call me or give me number to call you"

NO punctuation, NO grammar, NO BRAIN. It boggles my mind that an email like that could be sent out.

I have no patience for stupidity like that. Yes, typos happen...but that's why spellcheck was invented-- or at least a quick once-over to make sure that there's at least one or two punctuation marks within the entire mess.

I am a bitch. I don't deny it. I can't date a dumbass.

3) Annoying. (Telling me ad nauseum about their ex girlfriend or parental issues isn't the fastest way to interest me.)

4) Smarmy/Fake Charming. (These are the guys that make comments about how they like women built like me, when they are alone talking to me-- but when they're out in public they won't give me a second glance. I'd have more respect for those guys if they'd be honest.)

I recently was contacted by a guy I went to school with, and he went on and on about how I was his type when we were in school and how he thought about trying to get with me-- but he assumed I wouldn't be interested. I knew he was a flirt, but he would have had a decent chance. However, now... he tells me that I shouldn't be single because I have big boobs. Right. That's what I want-- a man that's solely interested in my tits. Granted, it helps, but I'd like a guy into more than that. He tells me that he thinks I'm attractive and all...and then tells me he has a girlfriend. Ew. Bad boyfriend. Red flag, anyone?

5) Whiny. (These are the guys that bitch and moan about how nice guys always finish last.)

This came up on myspace with my friends and we all got this idiotic bulletin to that effect-- how the "nice" guys are ignored and no one will sleep with them, and the author had a chip on his shoulder the size of a redwood. I sent a bulletin back out, here's my response:

"I would like to extend a hand to the TRUE nice guys, the ones that understand that dating and relationships are worth the work. The ones that must be out there, intelligent enough to not spread that garbage.

To the "nice boys," and whomever wrote that spectacular tribute to oh-so-manly despair...how do you walk upright with no spine? Shouldn't you be more of a quivering pile of jello on the floor? Every woman has heard it, men whining about always being "the friend." Get over it. If you're interested, let her know. if she's a smart, worthwhile woman she'll tell you it won't happen, nicely. If she steps on you she wasn't worth it in the first place. Everyone faces rejection, it's usually not as bad as you think it is.

How come so many men (And yes, women, too) always expect more than they're willing to give? Thanks to the media, Hollywood and the fact that not enough men understand that Fantasy is very different from Reality-- it seems as though most of the men out there seem to have a sense of entitlement for a model-esque woman. Yet look at those men and they spend the majority of their time playing with their X-Box and avoiding responsibility (and reality.) They're the ones that eat nothing but crap food but have snotty comments about women that actually eat.

Oh my God, would you believe that women actually need to eat to survive? Can you still breathe after hearing that some women that are "fat" are happy? And to the ladies that don't get it-- don't limit your sense of "hot" guys to just those that wear the same damn button downs and enough hair gel to ski down. Don't date a man if you only want to change him. It's obnoxious and offensive to impose any preconcieved notion of perfection on anyone.

Here's one to all the girls that don't fawn all over the Gotti-bots in the bars, the women that see intelligence and dorkiness as attractive. Consequently, too often we're subjected to the attentions of the drunken morons that just want to get laid. Keep it up, look for those that are worthy for us, keep your standards and don't let the unworthy ones get you down.

However, "boys," the first step to alienating women is to have that sense that all women are bitches and won't talk to you anyway. That's ignorant and damn right I won't talk to you. Get over the sense of entitlement, and grow a spine."

Ok, I think I've vented enough for now. I know there are good ones out there, I'm not totally bonkers... but I just needed to let that steam out before it blew out of my ears ;D

Handcuffs, Egotism and Chicken Wings

2005-08-19T23:56:00.000-07:00

I'm back from my overnight trip home. For all my rampant cynicism, I really did have fun. This is one hell of a long entry though, heads up. I tried to hit the highlights.

My friend got here to pick me up around 6 yesterday. We had some of the birthday cake I'd made for him, and by 7 or so, we were on the road. The city I live in seems to be comprised of mostly one-way roads, kind of like a smaller and grimier Boston. We made it onto the Thruway, and it was a straight shot to my hometown.

We found a parking spot at the fair, and immediately walked to the main pavilion to find my father. It was easy, he was the DJ. I'd expected to feel stifled right away, but I wasn't. Mostly it was a sense of raging nostalgia. We goofed around for a while and ran into one of my oldest best friends. She wasted no time telling my friend some of my most embarrassing stories (the best one is when I smoked weed for the first time, and had no idea it caused the munchies. All I knew was that I drank about 10 glasses of water and ate an entire bag of doritos. I mentioned the whole story further back in another entry in July.)

The place looked exactly as I'd remembered it from every other year I'd gone. However, since I had a friend with me, it wasn't so rough. We bought a couple of beers in the commemorative glass mugs they sell every year-- it's about time I started my collection. My dad has 27 from the last 29 last years.

Last night we were there til around 10. I only saw a few people that gave me the urge to run up, kick them in the shins and run away. No worries, I didn't do it. Afterwards, my dad, my brother, my friend and me went to a local bar. It's THE place to go in town. Greatest chicken wings ever (my friend is a convert now. I can't eat them often...but they're the best. Screw Buffalo.) I had been craving a bacon cheddar burger with curly fries and gravy from there for the last 6 months, so I mowed that down like I was being paid by the calorie. We were there for 2 hours, just telling silly family stories. My dad is so funny, but the thing is, he's kind of a big fish in a small pond. Everyone knows him-- which was both a blessing and a curse when I lived there. On the positive side, I took less garbage because of it, and on the negative side-- I couldn't get away with a damned thing EVER. It always got back to him, so I just gave up and waited til college to screw up.

I was so glad to get to see my brother. I can't believe how much he's changed. It's crazy to see, since I don't get up there as much as I should. He recently went out west to visit family, and for the last few weeks he's been telling me on the phone that he brought something back for me. I was curious, because usually he can't keep a gift secret for more than a few days haha. He gave me my present last night and I was literally speechless. He helped my aunt make me a New York Yankees quilt. It's unbelievable. He fooled dad by telling him he was making it for him, and when he got back to NY, he let him know it was for me. It's on my bed now. It's the best thing he could have ever given me. I'm so proud of how he's turning out. For a 13 year-old boy, he's remarkably stable and is his own person. His favorite music is old school rock and country, in a land of rap fans.

This morning we were up before 8. No seriously, we were. We ended up deciding to go out to breakfast and then go see 40 Year Old Virgin. The host at the restaurant was really silly, he was swearing to me that he remembered me from eating there before. I like it when men with accents flirt harmlessly with me. It's good for the ego.

The movie was great. I rarely laugh out loud watching a movie, and Steve Carell had me howling. Admittedly, I think he's gorgeous, and he was the only reason I didn't hate Anchorman...but he did an awesome job. His character was just so damn lovably cranky that I found myself wishing I could find a guy like that. The movie had a decent message, so unlike the rest of the movies out.

After the movie, we tried to find where the friend we'd met up with the night before lived, but got confused. I still don't know for sure where she lives. It put me in a piss-poor mood. For an hour or so I was really touchy. I was mad because there was almost literally nothing to do that didn't cost money. We ended up taking a trip to Wal-Mart, where I bought unnecessary items-- a cheap DVD (Evolution) and a t-shirt (one of the new vintage style band shirts. I bought the Rolling Stones one.) I don't care. It cost 10 bucks and looks fantastic.

We made it to the fair for Day 2, and met up with another old friend of mine. She's great. I was lucky, the close friends I had were good influences...and somehow we all turned out to be pretty much the same. Maybe I'm just more political. The swearing habits are almost even.

Hot dogs and fries for dinner. I noticed I must have changed and not really seen it myself. It's an old joke, but it's true. If you ever want to feel really good about yourself-- go to a small-town fair. You'll leave with your ego singing showtunes. It's like a nice shot of "Shit. I'm positively stunning compared to this."

My friend was telling me that he appreciated the change of scene from downstate. It must have seemed a hundred times more low-key. He also appreciated the smells. To me it smells like grass and cow manure in the sun, but to him it smelled better than "smoke coming from the nearest TGIFridays." Ok dude. Whatever works for you. It smells like cow crap to me, but thats what I associate with home.

The three of us wandered around. We walked about 20 feet, stopped to talk, and then realized we were holding up traffic...walked another 20 feet and stopped to talk again. We ran into my dad, who had had a few beers and is really a jolly drinker. Thankfully for me, he's not in the least embarrassing. The absolute BEST and most priceless moment went like this:

We saw other people laughing and pointing at two guys dressed up as a giant police whistle and as McGruff the Crime Dog (you know, "Take a Bite Outta Crime!") The whistle came right at me, and we decided to pose for a picture. I saw my friend fumbling around in his bag for something, and meanwhile McGruff leaned over to talk to me and said, "It's hot as hell in here." haha, it was another one of my friends! I whispered to him that I have once dressed up as Winnie the Pooh on a very hot summer day, and that I felt his pain. My friend fished something out of his bag-- a pair of handcuffs!! He cuffed his hands together and joined in the picture. It was Giant Whistle, Me, McGruff and then him. My dad took the picture.

My father looked at me and said, "We need to talk," and pointed at the cuffs, then he put his arm around my friend and said, "No. WE need to have a talk." My friend was laughing like crazy and told him, "No! I didn't bring them with me! I swear! I bought them here!" So he just told my father that the only souvenir that he thought was "practical" was a pair of handcuffs-- and then posed in a picture with me while wearing them. So my dad now believes I'm sleeping with my best male friend. One problem... he's gay! haha. I'll let him know, but dad will probably end up feeling disappointed, he's been waiting for a while for a chance to scare a potential boyfriend with his "Let's go for a walk with my shotgun and a shovel. If you answer my questions-- we'll both walk out. If not, I'll still have my shotgun and shovel and walk out alone" speech. We took some interesting pictures.

We left around 8:30, and got back here around 10-ish. We only got a little lost. It feels like I spent more time there than I did, and I'll probably think of more to write about later, or at least I'll snark on some things more. On a solely bitchy and honestly awful-of-me note-- I found out that one of the girls that had made my life hell in school now has what sounds like an extreme coke addiction and looks like a walking medical skeltal specimen. Oh well. Better to be fat and happy than coked-out and fugly, right?

Do the Time Warp, Baby.

2005-08-17T12:34:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a very small town. I hated it, and I ran to the first college that accepted me-- sight unseen. Lucky me that I loved the school I chose.

It just seemed so goddamn oppressive. I showed a friend of mine my high school yearbook, and it brought me back 6 years to my senior year. My prevailing feeling was "I HAVE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE." My school was run by people that pissed me off and lived to try and rattle my chains. They succeeded more than I care to admit. But thanks to the passage of time, I'm amused by it now. Not so much that I had pennies thrown at me when I was walking home, or had guys pretend to like me just to jerk me around-- but at how hard they tried to bother me. I know it was a small town, but they really had Nothing better to do? haha. If I were truly that unimportant, they would have ignored me. I wish they'd known how silly I thought they were. Hopefully my brother doesn't let himself get yanked around too much-- he's going into 8th grade.

As I remember, they were fairly stupid. Perhaps cracking a book or watching something other than TRL would have been beneficial to them.

I miss the town itself. I haven't lived there since I was 18, so it's been long enough for my glasses to turn sufficiently rose-colored. There's a bunch of people I really do want to see, my close friends from school and my family, mostly. I'm bringing a friend of mine from Long Island. I think the only reason I'm not dreading going back is because he's going. We're going back for my town's big annual fair. IE-- the biggest thing that happens every year. Complete with cheap t-shirts, cheap beer in a commemorative mug, scary rides (think Gravitron and Swings-- and I mean scary as questionable maintenance) along with the Great Unwashed from all over the county. Maybe it's the Anthropology major in me...but it's just so interesting to people-watch there.

There's the younger kids, the ones that save up their allowances to buy invisible ink and exploding poppers that litter white paper packets all over the ground. They live to destroy one another with silly string, while their parents hide in the beer tent or under the pavilion listening to country cover bands. I like the littler kids, they genuinely have fun. They haven't gotten old enough to realize that other things are out there. I'm not so fond of the teenagers. They're in that snotty "don't trust anyone over 20" stage. The girls walk around in estro-packs, dressed in their trashiest best, pretending to ignore the boys. The guys stroll around, clearly thinking they own the very ground they walk on, dressed to the nines themselves-- in either flannel shirts and tank tops, or t-shirts 4 times too big. I know this because I lived it. Not so much the trash-tastic clothing or wasting all my money on crappy souvenirs (which I did,) but more so the interaction. In a town with little to offer to teenagers other than recreational drug use and jumping off a local bridge into the lake...this is big news. My friends and I used to harrass each other with those poppers, and we took our turns irritating the older members of the community.

I'm now old enough to hide from the pubertal masses in the beer tent and drink Coors Light from my mug. I can get a sausage and pepper sandwich or wings and relax and listen to the music while my brother and his friends terrorize each other.

I don't know how I ended up a liberal feminist bitch having grown up there. It's very much a land of yellow ribbon magnets, flags everywhere and having an anti-Bush or anti-war opinion in the wrong place is likely a very bad idea. I've even taken my turn helping our local Republican Club at thier booth. I did it for my dad, and because it was fun to see the kids play the game they always had. I don't usually hide my beliefs, but I'm going to try to avoid the political discussions, so I don't end up asking why cranky old republicans are afraid of gay people, but still think that personal responsibility is the key to life. Or, even worse, ask them why my reproductive system is any of their damned business, and point them to NOW's website. I'm supportive of my country and our troops...but that doesn't mean I need to agree with it. But no way in hell am I getting into all that on a trip back. All I want is some good greasy food and to have fun with my friends. If anything, it'll be an interesting blog entry.

Someday, I'll bring a boyfriend back there. But not yet haha...

"Any good movies in?"

2005-08-15T21:20:00.000-07:00

There's about 6 blogs that I keep up with, and one of them reminded me of my first job.

My very first job I obtained through nepotism. Damn right I did. Being 16 in a small town with no car to get somewhere else makes it hard to find a better option. So I got a job in a video store through family connections. It wasn't one of the national chains. It was hardly tough labor. My boss was a good friend of the family, and I think that made it worse for me to hate my job. I worked two nights a week-- every friday and saturday, for a couple hours. Not that I was rolling in nightly party plans, but that was hell enough. Add to that the sheer boredom, and the general stupidity of the clientele (by this I do not include the majority of the regulars, they made it bearable,) and the fact that I made $14.97 a week after taxes. Every time I went to work I was sure that children in Thailand making Nikes made more money than me. I worked there during the time Titanic came out. The uproar was insane, we had 40 copies and a waiting list. Still even with all the over-coverage of the movie, people still had the time to complain if someone gave away the ending. That's right, some people were so sure of Hollywood's ability to rewrite history that they must have thought the Titanic would float away into the sunset, while Leo and Kate fornicated in a car.

I was also there when the infamous Pam and Tommy tape came out. We made more money on that little back area behind the curtain than we made a habit of telling anyone. When I worked there I was behind a door, and behind a desk. I was supposed to stay there, unless I absolutely had to leave to do something else my boss told me to do. So when parents didn't take the care to keep their little bundles of joy on a leash (figuratively, of course) it suddenly became my job to start yelling and keep the kiddies from venturing past the curtains to keep them from being warped and likely needing years of therapy from being surrounded by porn tapes. Obviously I didn't want to see little Johnny and Susie learn about sex far too early because they caught a glimpse of Tommy Lee's massive wang...but thats why children should never run around unsupervised. That's why we had the Sing-a-Long and cartoon section.

The tedium was almost the worst. The absolute worst was taking phone calls. Mostly due to the fact that a few months after I started there, we expanded the business and started to make pizza in the back kitchen. My mother hated it, and even I didn't like it-- but I still had to sell it. So I'd be renting out 5 movies to a bitchy housefrau with her kids, selling them soda, candy and then they decide that they want a pizza. But back to the phone calls. How do most people order pizza? They say, for example, "I'll have a large pepperoni and mushroom." What I always seemed to get when it got busy was:

"Do you have any specials...no? Pizza Hut does, you know. I'll take one with half pineapple and ham, a quarter with jalapenos and half pepperoni and extra cheese. What size? Didn't I tell you already? You should pay attention...I want a large, or do you have extra-large? I'll also take a pizza, a small one, with no sauce and broccoli and garlic. What do they call those? Oh yeah, white pizzas. I like those. Do I get a free movie with this? No? I should, you know. I'll be there in 10 minutes, can you have it ready?"

I'm proud of being able to avoid grinding my teeth into dust.

The funniest part of this all to me was that I pretty much ended up getting "let go." I never got fired, and in fact, my boss told me later after my first year at school that I was welcome to come back to work that summer. Yeah...no. I'd rather stitch together sneakers in a sweatshop and make friends with the child laborers. I remember how it happened. One day, another employee had to quit to go to school, and my boss told me that I'd need to work more hours, and I told him that that was great, any more hours would be welcomed (maybe I could break 20 bucks on a paycheck.) Two weeks later, I got called back into the kitchen and he said, "Yeah, we just don't really need you anymore..."

On my last day, he interviewed and hired my replacement in front of me. Classy.

The Downhill Spiral of the Glass Babysitter

2005-08-14T13:11:00.000-07:00

I've known or awhile that TV sucks. It dawned on me when I got digital cable with roughly 900 channels...and nothing but crap is on. The same rotated crap, on the same stories, on every channel.

Seriously, though. What happened to tv? It seems like if it's not a spinoff from Law and Order, or a show about death, it's a reality show, or a reality show about reality show, or a reality show starring reality show stars. Half of what's on tv has the same damn 30 people in it.

I don't want to watch MTV anymore. It makes me sad, angry and confused. I remember when it used to have...music television. Then the Real World took a nice stinking dump on it, and it's never been the same. I never really got into the Real World thing, it seemed too contrived and lame. If I wanted to watch the same small group of people fight, hook up and pretend to get along-- I would have taped my time in college and watched that.

Besides, that Jesse guy from years back made me want to tackle him and wash his hair, and duct tape his mouth shut. Don't get me started on TRL. MTV should have never cancelled Fear-- it was the best show they've ever had.

I admit that I watch some stupid shows, and that I get caught up in some of the reality buzz stuff once in a while. But it's pretty rare for me. I has to catch my attention and keep it. I watched one season of Survivor in it's entirety. I thought it was cool, but that people were taking it too seriously. Lo and behold-- 54 seasons of Survivor later, it's gone too far. Time for a new idea.

Where are the ideas for shows coming from? Is someone feeding psychotropic drugs to monkeys in labs, and handing them sheets of paper to scribble on? Really, I think that's where American Idol came from. Except that the monkeys wrote, "just kidding" on the bottom of the paper and were ignored.

Ok. I love CSI and it's spinoffs-- it's hasn't jumped the shark for me yet. I also like Crossing Jordan, Family Guy (American Dad is a pile of garbage though) South Park, The West Wing... and most of the silly countdown shows on Vh1. I'll watch Cold Case Files, but you can only watch so much of that before you start to learn all the famous cases better than the lawyers. I like the paranormal shows on ghost hunting and haunted hotel stories. My latest favorite shows are Dirty Jobs and Going Tribal on the Discovery Channel. Every once in a while a really good show gets through the filters, but it's usually canned once it proves to be too smart or funny for the average tv viewer-- who prefers their tv in the form of Cops and watching Rob and Amber get married.

I don't think it's bad if someone wants to watch the shows I think must have come from the bottom of the television trash heap... but I don't get how they caught on. For example-- Growing Up Gotti, Gastineau Girls, Filthy Rich Cattle Drive, 7th Heaven, Dr. Phil, The Swan, Wife Swap, Punk'd, The OC, all the makeover shows (with the exception of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, that's an amazing show) What Not To Wear, and Andy Milonakis...to name a few. No big deal if people watch them, I'm just curious as to where the hell the ideas came from. My only guess would be that they were ripped from the nightmares of those drug-addled monkeys.

As Hollywood seems to be striving to put out increasingly more expensive bad movies lately, maybe tv is just following suit. Yes, television is primarily, and for most, solely entertainment...but wow, I'm worried about what's next in line for new tv shows. I figure the ideas will mostly revolve around watching the newest crop of reality attention-addicted stars aging, through plastic surgeries and failed marriages. Hey, maybe Vh1 will foot the bill for Ricardo and Slavco's wedding, once it's legal, as long as they have sole rights to tape it and turn it into a Britney & Kevin-esque disaster documentary. Either that, or every new show will be all about surgery-- closeups of colonscopies and stomach-staplings, with before and after interviews and pictures. Everything is to be "Extreme," whether it be Extremely sappy, stupid, expensive, unlikely, painful to watch, or just plain bad, remains to be seen.

Any bets?

"Now for something Completely Different!"

2005-08-12T23:41:00.000-07:00

I've got a song on, it's one of those songs that I can never listen to without thinking about someone. The summer of 2003 I worked up at school and lived on-campus. I met a guy through a friend, and even though I was warned that I'd likely dislike him... I thought he was great. Totally unlike anyone I'd met before, and he played the guitar *rueful smile* I never knew I was a guitar bunny before that. I went to visit his room and found him playing a song I recognized and we were talking about music, turned out we shared a lot in common with our taste in music-- hardcore mainstream rock and punk. I told him my favorite band was Staind. I could listen to them play for hours and Aaron Lewis' voice can calm me down like nothing else.

The guy and I hung out, never kissed or anything, and I realized I really liked him. Then he learned to play a Staind song, I don't know if it was for me, but in my little ego-world I'll pretend it was. It was one of sweetest gestures ever. I know, I'm a sucker. A week or two later, he had to go home for a week and we talked online, and he told me he liked me, too. I told him we should be friends and see what happens, because we were both dealing with issues. I was so happy, it was rediculous.

When he came back from his vacation, we hung out once or twice more, and still, nothing happened. Then I started to notice him talking about another girl, like mentioning her in away messages. I didn't know how to ask and not look stupid...but a mutual friend finally told me that he'd slept with some girl and was totally into her now, but he still thought of me as a friend. He later told me he'd slept with her in part because she was "so hot," and that made me feel like dog crap on a warm day.

I was really shattered, I felt like I'd had no chance. I didn't make a move because I didn't want to rush him, and then all that happened. To make matters worse, after that I got over that and even though I was still angry, I was still talking to him. He even still flirted with me, but it really meant nothing. He made jokes about me coming to sleep in his bed, but I knew that I could have shown up naked at his door and he would have had no clue how to handle it.

Towards the end of the summer another friend of mine brought to my attention that he was now going after yet another friend of mine. He even had the balls to ask me how to get her. They ended up dating, for about 2 weeks-- then he dumped her-- over AIM. Looked to me like I got out lucky. I talked to my friend, and turned out that she had no idea that the "other girl" he liked was, in fact, me. I'll never know if he was spineless, an asshole, or just totally confused. I was really pissed for a while, then moved on. I gave him a quick, and only ever, kiss before I left school, I guess just to fuck him up a little. I think I only remember it so clearly because it's attached to one of my all-time favorite songs. It seems silly now, but it's years later, and I can look back and laugh-- or at least not cringe over how stupid the whole dramatic episode was.

That summer was crazy. The title, that I so nicely ripped off from Monty Python is also a quote from a friend to describe my taste in men. She also said things like, "If a man needs more than one glass of water to consume your underwear collection you're not wearing enough thongs" I miss her now haha.

I also almost started to be interested in one guy I knew from my dorm, that I always saw out at the bars. Then one night I saw him out and he fell into a construction ditch because he was so drunk and didn't recognize me. I was... less than enthused. I'm sorry about that, I hope he's doing well now.

I look back now and realize that it was at least 50-50 between me and the guys I hung out with (not slept with, lets make that clear) screwed things up worse. I was a bitch sometimes, and took things personally. I often acted badly when things didn't work out. Not the best way to start a decent relationship, so none ever did. Enough time has passed now, though, to think more objectively about it all and recognize my own faults. It took me a while I realize that I didn't damn myself (in a non-religious sense) by fucking up. Hell, I'm 23, and wouldn't it be a little sad if someone made it all the way to their early 20's and never made a few mistakes, even if it meant hooking up with the wrong person or drinking too much and looking foolish? Then again, I'm only 23-- its ok to move on and try again.

Am I normal yet?

2005-08-12T11:41:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow should be my last day on my antibiotic regimine, and I can really only hope it works. I'm still congested, but the sinus headache has lessened to the point where a couple Advil can handle it. I can even sleep.

Ok, the oddest thing so far has been my dreams.

For the last week I alternated between just passing out and being in a semi-asleep kind of state. I knew I was dreaming, and I could realize how bizarre all my dreams were. It seems like every time I sleep I remember my dreams now, which is very unusual for me. They're all very detailed and they're full of people I haven't seen in years. For example:

I had a dream about going out to eat pizza. It was a make-your-own kind of place. I kept fumbling and dropping shit all over the place. I couldn't keep up with everyone else. I dropped a bunch of sauce on my shirt. Someone handed me a napkin, and it turned out to be the guy that I had this huge silly crush on in high school.

He graduated when I was in 10th grade, and I was just So Sure he was the hottest and smartest guy on the planet. I haven't seen him in 7 or 8 years.

I had another dream that one of my friends bleached her beautiful dark hair blonde and braided it, and I had to pretend that I liked it. I'm assuming most everyone has had to deal with this kind of thing at one point or another. We went out for burgers and the person that sold them to us was the same snotty uber-slut that used to antagonize me for lack of anything else to do. This was probably my favorite one of all haha ;)

At least I understand why most of my dreams involve food in some way. Until yesterday, all I had eaten in 5 days was a bowl of soup, a nectarine and a handful of crackers. My poor body isn't used to not eating. I don't get how those Hollywood people do it. I must have lost 10 or 12 pounds. It's not how I wanted to go about doing that.

I can't wait until I have more to talk about than how I feel like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse used me as their personal racetrack... Someday soon I'll be back to normal!

Thanks again for all the well-wishes :)

Yay for drugs!

2005-08-09T18:55:00.000-07:00

I kept food down today, for the first time in 4 days. Hopefully it isn't just passing moment, but I'm feeling better. Adrienne, I think you might be referring to Imitrex. I took that yesterday, and it finally knocked out the migraine I'd had building since the 30th. It took 2 of the pills and over 3 hours, but as far as I'm concerned-- that shit is the greatest. Thanks for the comments, too :)

I went to my doctor yesterday. He asked me what the ER had done, and if they had diagnosed me-- they hadn't. I told him they'd just given me 3 shots that made me throw up. He said politely, that the ER has a distrust for unexplained head pain-- I think I kno why they made me give a urine sample before they gave me anything-- it's likely they were drug testing me to make sure I'm not some kind of addict. My doctor started writing out like 8 prescriptions for Mucinex, Imitrex, Phenergin, etc--and told my mom I'd need a head CT scan.

Then he noticed I have no insurance-- so he had to "switch gears." The insurance limits what I can get, because it would be so damned expensive without it. So the doctor nixed the CT and a couple of the scripts, and gave me a goodie bag with samples of Imitrex, Nasacort, Allegra-D, and Ketek (antibiotic.) He finally diagnosed me with both sinusitis and migraine. I'm still really congested and scalding myself in the shower to clear up my sinsuses, but I'm still just abso-fuckin-lutely thrilled that my head doesn't feel like someone's power-drilling into the space between my eyes for the first time in 11 days. It'll probably hurt some tomorrow, but hopfully the antibiotics are working enough so I can sit up without being dizzy and confused.

Painkillers! Stat! Damn It!

2005-08-07T21:27:00.000-07:00

I went to the ER last night because of this headache I have. It was the worst pain I'd felt I think, to date. I was dizzy, I'd thrown up, couldn't eat, I was really tired and confused. My mom was seriously worried, so we packed into the car and found the nearest ER. When we got there it seemed pretty slow, traffic-wise. It got packed later, though. We're lucky we didn't put it off much past 8. I was in so much pain and was so confused that I had to think when someone asked me my birthday and my SSN.

I signed in for Triage, then got evaluated by a nurse and she told me to register for care. I got a nice bright green wristband (same kind underage drinkers get sometimes lol.) It didn't take long to get me into a bed, but most of the time I was there was spent waiting. It *was* busier, so I couldn't really bitch about it. A nurse handed me one of those super-special backless hospital gowns and told me to take my top off. Honestly, it wasn't how I usually prefer to take my shirt off for someone else. I'd just say those stupid gowns are "easily aerated."

I lay down, and after a while, a doctor came in to ask me about my headache. Too bad he wasn't George Clooney, it would have given me something other than being sick to concentrate on. Even Noah Wyle would have helped ;) I rated my pain an 8 out of 10. He told me they'd get some meds for me ASAP. I don't know how long it was, but it seemed like forever. Another nurse came in and said, "Oh, you didn't give a urine sample yet? Get me one quick and I can give you your meds." Awesome, right? Wrong. I wasn't able to keep down water, so having to pee in a cup wasn't something I relished doing. Somehow, he got his sample (gross. I hate peeing in a cup) and a bit after that, he came in with 2 syringes. I had been expecting a shot in the arm.

Nope. Denied. I got two shots in either hip. He told me it was morphine and that it should help. I figured since thats what soldiers in WWII got when they were injured, it would help me.

Denied again. He said he'd check in on me in a little while to see if it was making any impact. An hour later, I finally got to tell my doctor that the morphine had done nothing. He seemed genuinely concerned, and said they'd figure out a way to help me. Good thing, because crying in a hospital bed wasn't really my idea of a spiffy time. My poor mother was worried out of her mind the whole time- because the morphine had made me throw up. Turns out drugs on an empty stomach can do that.

After the doctor left, one of the same nurses came in with another needle, this time chock full of hydromorphone. She said it would make me groggy, I told her I'd like that, please. I figured, this shot *must* go in my arm.

Denied! I had to get the shot in my ass. I haven't had that particular indignity since the days of Kindergarten booster shots. It burned, like she told me it would. But within 10 minutes I couldn't keep my eyes open. I knew what was going on around me, kind of, but even though my head still hurt some, I just curled up on the bed and tried to keep the back of the gown from falling open. To be honest though, it hurt so bad that if they had told me they had to administer the drugs on the bottom of a golf cleat and kick me, I would have been all for it. More than once if they had to.

That shot had the same effect as the first, in making me throw up. Sorry to be gross, but I just want to talk about it. It was scary. I was just dry-heaving what little was left in my stomach, whenever I tried to sit up or move. I felt sick, and confused. A lot of last night is kind of blurry to me. I do remember a very nice lady that was there with the man in the next cubicle over came over to ask me if she could get me anything. He was so much worse off than I was, that it just floored me that she would be concerned about me. That helped a lot.

Around 12:45, another nurse came in with my prescription info and when she asked me how I was feeling, I threw up again. It's more embarrassing than I thought it would be, to be so worn-down and sick, in front of total strangers.

Mom had to bring the car to me, I was so dizzy and still nauseous. I fell asleep about 3 minutes after I hit my bed.

Today, though...was hell in it's own way. I woke up at 9, with my head on fire. I had to go with mom to get my prescriptions for Motrin and Hydrocodone filled. The roads around here could use some work. I puked in the car on the way back. I haven't done that in her car since I was about 7. I went back to bed, and just kept throwing up. Finally we discovered I can keep down flat ginger ale. So I've had about 2 quarts of flat soda, and 3 saltines. I'm just not hungry (that's so not me. I usually need a chocolate fix at least once a day.) The idea of food just makes me want to reach for the bucket by my bed (which actually came from the ER, I think the nurse realized how sick I was and knew I'd need it.) I should have accepted an anti-emetic from them for the nausea, but for some reason, I felt like being a fucking cowboy. It hurt SO BAD everytime I threw up, like I was slamming my brain around in my skull. Seriously, I'm sorry if anyone ever had a headache like this before. But if you had-- what helped you? I'm all for getting advice.

PS-- don't ever try and cowboy it out in the hospital.

All day I've been in bed. My Lortab finally seems to be working, since I'm not so damned dehydrated. I do have to make myself drink as a conscious decision. The ER nurse gave us the names of a couple doctors around here, because my old one is over an hour away. I couldn't make that car trip without having visions of running the car into a wall.

Something tells me tomorrow will be another day of bedrest. Whatever, not like I'll be out running a marathon anyway.

Stupid people piss me off.

2005-08-06T00:33:00.000-07:00

I'm so pissed off right now. Aren't crank calls overdone by the time you're 23? It's so sad and stupid. I've been gone from where I work for over 2 months now, and apparently, someone still feels like fucking with me. They need to grow the fuck up and quit acting like children. The dumbest part is, they used a number that I know-- it used to be in my phone! I know how it works, they got high or drunk, likely both, were talking about me and what a bitch I am and decided to call me. Thankfully it didn't last long and I just hung up. I'm not going to egg them on. I would love nothing more than to call back and say something, but I'm not stupid, that never works and I'd end up looking like a jerk. I just don't have the energy. I spent the last 3 hours in the fetal position, and I'm only up now because my sinus meds finally kicked in.

I have the worst headache I've had in a year and I think it's sinusitis. This is probably the worst timing ever. I've had this headache for a week now, and today it finally had me down. Not much bothers me more than a bad headache. Now I really have to go to the doctor.

I'm just so irritated. I spent that last month at work biting my tongue, and trying to be an adult in a situation that was just shit to begin with, and they can't let it go after 2 months. They were the reason I quit my job, and I don't think they realize I could have gotten them fired but chose not to, out of whatever bit of respect I had left for them. No wonder I have issues with people. I honestly wish that I had never considered them friends, because it showed poor taste and judgement on my part-- they were politically stunted and had only the vaguest clue that the world didn't revolve around them. I wish they knew how much their hypocrisy pissed me off. I wish I'd never told them anything personal about myself, but oh well, they know...and so does everyone else they've told by now. I just left, to preserve my own dignity and to be on good terms with my bosses. All I can do is move on, shouldn't those fuckwits try too?

General Sneezypants McBitchy Part3

2005-08-04T22:15:00.000-07:00

"Sunday 7/31/05

We went back to clean the apartment today. It was just as bad as we'd feared it would be. I spent the majority of my time on my hands and knees cleaning in the kitchen...and to clean behind the fridge, and due to the lack of space-- I had to army crawl back behind it to scrub the floor. Hell. Over the course of 4 hours we scrubbed, polished, vacuumed and dusted as much as we could. Doubtless we will still likely get less than half of our security deposit back. Whatever. We lived there for 5 years and it doesn't look like there was a rock star entourage party there. No holes in the wall, no beer and vomit stains on the carpets, and no pizza stuck to the ceiling. Hell, we never even threw stuff off our balcony (not worth it, we were over the lawn, no chance of hitting anyone.)

By the time we left, my poor black sweatpants were covered in dust and grime and we looked like we'd been rolled downhill in a trashcan. Why I even put body spray on defies logic-- I just ended up smelling like I had a lilac bush in a sweaty headlock. All I wanted was a shower to wash off the layers of dust and Comet, Windex, Scrubbing Bubbles and Easy-Off Oven Cleaner. My hair, which I put back in that same uber-unattractive bun-thing that I had for moving day-- sprang out all over the place and gave me the unfortunate look as though my head were suffering through a civil war and each hair was a warring faction. TV sucks solely for portraying cleaning as anything but uncool. Let's see a commercial with some harried, dusty, grimy person scrubbing the bathroom floor instead of some happy June Cleaver-esque Cleaning-In-Heels and-Pearls horseshit. Someday I want enough disposable income to hire someone to do that for me. I'd pay them really well, and I'd bake them cookies. Anything to not have to clean my toilet or be on my knees wiping crud off the side of the trashcan ever again.

OCD. Definitely OCD. Definitely. I'm no girly-girl, but I hated seeing my nails get ruined (as though I didn't do enough damage to them after I got the fake set put on for my friend's wedding- that lasted about 2 weeks before I started to feel like Wolverine. I had to keep washing my hands, it just made me want antibacterial hand gel and lotion.

So here I am at 10 PM. Again I've had to come to terms with my internet addiction. It's not as bad as it could be, but I had a dream about checking my email. That can't be a good sign. I get Roadrunner on Thursday, so maybe I'll stop having net-themed dreams by then. Oh well, it's not like I dreamt about blogging or ego-searches on google. I'm still ahead of the game.

12:30 AM-- I dropped 2 calls at once a while ago. I can see that cell service here is kind of shaky. I'll try standing on our back porch next time. I looked through a few boxes and I came across the one holding all my old tapes, of the VHS variety. It kind of weirds me out knowing that kids are in school now never having used a VHS player. Old school, now. It's gone the way of the 8-track. My first stereo had an 8-track, and I never really used it. All I knew was that you couldn't fast forward or skip a song. I grew up listening to tapes. I have a few relics lying around-- The Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff, NKOTB, Tiffany, and Queen among them. My younger brother has never owned a tape, as far as I know. He's almost 14, so he knows what they are, but he only has CDs, and when I told him my mom has a record player he looked at me like I told him I used smoke signals instead of email. "

General Sneezypants McBitchy Part 2

2005-08-04T22:12:00.000-07:00

"Saturday: 7/30/05

6 AM-- Up, wandered blindly to shower. Avoided tripping over boxes. Instead tripped over an extension cord. Stepped on earring. Swore.

7 AM-- Packed like a maniac. Probably channeling WWII General. Tried not to be a bitch. Just wanted to be done.

8:30 AM-- Movers arrive. 5 guys. Better be strong. Pissed about book boxes, but still carried 2 at a time. Looked like Sherpas hauling supplies up Everest. Turns out most of our furniture could use woodglue, screws or a fiery death in a bonfire. Started to get a headache-- right in the front. Hurt to bend over, turn head or breathe. Ignored it. Swore. Movers keep moving all our stuff. Tons of stuff. Poor movers. Better tip them big.

11-ish AM-- Done moving out. Embarrassed by forgetting to vaccuum under couch cushions and having the movers find a spoon, chapstick, 4 lbs of assorted debris and an Always pad. Shocked by accumulated dust underneath furniture. May become OCD from the experience. Must wash hands. Must vaccuum more often. Starting to feel dehydrated and stomach making angry noises.

12-ish PM- 2 PM-- Haven't seen a clock. Sure it would never end. Movers start to unpack the trucks. Had to admit to being the one living in the Cowboy-decorated room (the curtains and wall border were left behind.) Wished they were pirates or something cooler. Just glad it's not Pokemon or Bratz. Sneezed. Sneezed. Sneezed. Dust allergy finally caught up with me. So tired of sneezing. Watched movers put my bed back together 14 times faster than it took mom and I to put it together. Got into paper fight. Movers finish, we tip them $30 apiece. Books are heavy.

2 PM-- Grocery store because we have no food. Stomach VERY angry. Still dehydrated. Headache taking over head like it's storming the beaches at Normandy. Getting cranky. Wanted a sandwich and a drink. Wanted beer, drank soda. Couldn't remember which box held my ibuprofen. Would swear, but too tired. Got my sandwich-- turkey, cheese and pickles. Almost too tired to eat. Ate anyway.

3PM-- 6:45PM-- Realized basement is perfect for headaches-- dark, cool, with sofa. Took crash nap. Woke up confused. Never fell asleep in a basement before.

7 PM- 10 PM-- unpacked. Realized kind of crappy cell service in my room. Realized internet addiction. Missed e-mail and myspace. Ate stouffer's lasagna. Hooked up laptop before unpacking clothes. Must have priorities. Laptop is my dvd player, stereo and general attention waster. Spoke to my dad and brother-- talked to brother about Dad's car-- vintage MGB-- Dad's new favorite child.

10 PM- 11:45 PM-- read in my big rocking chair. Ignored giant mountains of boxes. Willing to sleep on bare mattress.

Sooner or later, I'll fall asleep on that mattress, bare or not. I can sleep til 9 tomorrow, which is a gift from the gods as far as I'm concerned. We do have to go back to the old apartment to clean up the ravenous hordes of dust bunnies and tame the wilderness behind the fridge. It's probably going to be gross and I'll probably get another dust headache and spend the afternoon racked out in the basement on the couch... but it's worth it to have actually gotten out of there. I probably would have eaten kitty litter to get out of there, but come to think of it, I used to eat Grape Nuts and that stuff is only a carton of milk and a spoonful of sugar away from cat litter."

General Sneezypants McBitchy Part 1

2005-08-04T18:06:00.000-07:00

Ok. I just got my internet back today. And because of that, I've been glued to my poor laptop since the cable guys left. Roadrunner is the shit. But since I had no net, I kept a journal of my time moving. It's kind of long, so here's a bit:

Today was the big day-- Moving Day. My first thought when I woke up at 6 was, "I should probably finish packing." I showered, put my hair up wet in some kind odd bun and packed my last box-- of the stuff in my room.

However there was still the kitchen. For 45 minutes I frantically packed the last of our glassware and the dirty dishes. We came close to running out of paper. I drank one bottle of water and ate a plain untoasted bagel (all food was already here at the new house and so was the toaster.) Today was Day 3 of the 18 hour+ days that I've been doing. I haven't done that shit since my last semester of college when I was pulling too many credits, working til 4 am and counting my days like a convict on the eve of parole.

Ok, let me go back a bit.

Friday: 7/29/05

6 AM-- Got up, stumbled to shower blindly. Tripped over a shoe then over a box. Swore.

7 AM-- Over to the new house to wait for Taft and Sears deliveries. Screwed around making playlists on my laptop til they got here.

12 PM-- Back to the apartment. Tripped over more boxes. Swore.

2 PM-- Tried to take a nap but stymied by all the lists in my head. I'm such a fucking type-A sometimes.

3 PM- 11PM-- Mom's boyfriend and his two sons drove up to help. All tower over me. Must be eating fertilizer or something. Talked Batman with one of them, and gave college advice since he starts in August ("Never forget naptime. Never forget snacktime. Never forget your ATM card.") Flashed back to the two summers of Orientation Leader position dispensing advice to freshmen and attempting to cut the cord of the parents. Ate Wendy's chili, picked out the onions because onions taste like crap. Packed all books-- over 2,000 of them. Very heavy. Poor movers.

12 AM-- tried to fall asleep. Couldn't. Instead tried to remember here the phone charger was packed, if the microwave plate was wrapped up, if all of my underwear was going to fly out of my drawers in a multicolored shower of panties (they told us to leave the drawers packed, they just wrap them in packing blankets.) Flashed back to the time I accidentally left a pair of underwear with a rasta smiley face on the ass in the dryer and my neighbor brought them upstairs to me. My bad.

1 AM-- Fell asleep. No remembered dreams. Too tired. Back making same unhappy noise as Dad's bum knee. Swore.

Letter to the President

2005-07-27T11:30:00.000-07:00

Dear President Bush,

I need your help understanding something, and as you are currently the Commander-In-Chief, I wanted to go to the top. It's just one question.

Why Sir, can I not go to the Doctor's to make sure I get a refill for medication I need everyday?

I am a 23 year-old member of the workforce. I've been working since I was 16, but right now I'm without a job. I understand the job market is a murky place, and that I have to work to find a job. I quit my job because it was, simply, a bad job. However, now I am without medical insurance, as the only likely way for an average adult to have medical insurance is through the workplace.

I have asthma, a fairly severe case. I take my Albuterol everyday, and I still try new medications when I can. I have problems sleeping because of my breathing, I wake up unable to breathe. I promise you Sir, it's a scary thing. I hope you never experience it.

I am an adult, with my own expenses, and I do my absolute best to pay them. My debt is low compared to some of my peers, and I have a good credit history. I am a good person that pays attention to the news, writes to my congressmen, pays taxes and votes. I am also too old for my Mother to pay for me to go to the doctor. And seeing as how I have that decent credit history, I'd rather not put a doctor's visit on my credit card. Perhaps you don't understand the credit system. The card companies rely on failure to survive. The interest rates make big money. Especially with young people who are still relatively inexperienced with it. They rely on other people's debts. I'd rather not do damage to my future with added, and unnecessary, charges. Any program my credit card has for job loss does not cover me, as I wasn't fired or laid off and left of my own accord.

I know, you must be thinking I'm cheap. That of course a person should find the money for their own health. That Sir, hinges on whether I have it. I have roughly 300 dollars to my name. I also have regular bills. The only reason I'm not homeless and hungry is because my Mother is letting me live rent-free. I'm lucky. I have a home, shelter and support in my life. I like living with her, but my body is my responsibility. I pay for my medications, so I should be the one worried about getting to see my Doctor. By the way, I only need a check-up, and likely a personal exam (I'll be vague on that, men are a bit squeamish.) I have a history of cancer in my family, check-ups are vital to me not going through what trauma other women in my family have.

Sir, I know I said I only had one question, but it seems now that I have two. Should not the national government have an interest in the health of it's citizens? All of them, not just the people with a decent credit card history. All of them, not just children, but especially children. All of them, no matter what race, age or sex. All of them, not just those that can afford it.

Actually, just one more question. How much damage would it do to the coffers of our great nation to have one check-up a year for every American? I know it would be expensive, but aren't our elected officials at least a bit concerned about the health of the people? If the nation pays no attention to the health of the average American that just needs a little help, it can't bode well for the future. With so many diseases and conditions that need to be caught early, it could do nothing but good to help your citizens.

President Bush, thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
W.B.

Pitchforks and Nailguns and Piercings...Oh my.

2005-07-26T01:47:00.000-07:00

Ok...I'm watching some random tv on at 1 am on TLC. It's "101 Things Removed From The Human Body" although they ought to call it "Fucking Disgusting Impalement Pictures." Dude, boat anchors in the back of the head, a swordfish in the eye, a frog-gigging stick in the face (it's like a mini pitchfork,) a piece of rebar in the face, a giant piece of flying metal from the neck, as well as a ton of nails removed from someone's stomach, and other scary things. Thankfully, the tv is on in the other room...while my laptop is here. I can avoid the grosser things.

I have a fear of injuries like that-- as I assume, most people do. I would hate little more than to slip on an icy sidewalk and fall on a fence post or something. No way. I wouldn't look good in a "jaunty eye patch" (thank you Lewis Black, for one of the best phrases in stand up.)

I'm such a freakin pansy when it comes to pain. I had to hold the Claire's teddy bear when I got my ears pierced at the mall when I was 17. I'm not big on needles or having injuries of any kind. I can't even begin to imagine just riding along on a boat, and WHAM, getting an anchor jabbed into my skull, and then having to hold it still while I stayed conscious, waiting for help. No thanks. Or working with a nail gun and shooting a 4 inch nail into my head-- I know piercings are all the rage-- but I don't think that's the way to go but I can see it now:

MTV-- TRUE LIFE-- I'M INTO EXTREME PIERCING

"Hey man! Check this sweet frontal lobe piercing I got! My memory is kinda fucked up...and I can't really control myself anymore...and I black out sometimes...but isn't it totally awesome? The chicks are gonna love this!"

"That's nothing. I got my kidneys pierced with a 2 x 2 strip of pine floorboard. I want to gage it up to a 2 x 4 in a couple weeks. It's a bitch to get my pants on and my skin is a little yellow-- but my girlfriend loves it, she can hang her purse off it when we go out."

"Whatever. We should totally go get our corneas pierced next saturday when we're getting our tongues split. It's not like you ever wear your contacts anyway, the pain is just part of the fun man! I met a guy who'll do it for like, no money. We just gotta bring a package into Mexico for him. He seems cool-- he has his corneas pierced, got his done at Rikers by a carjacker from Long Island."

"Sweet. Can I bring my girlfriend? She wants to get her nipples pierced for the 5th time, maybe string a chain from the piercings to her nose ring. Last week she got a tribal symbol branded on her ass, it's kind of a mystical thing...very deep. She still can't really sit down or wipe herself, but it's totally hot."

Admit it. MTV would do it.

My hands smell like packing tape.

2005-07-22T23:34:00.000-07:00

It looks like our issues with the move have been ironed out, at least to the point where we know we can move to the house. Hopefully we can still have the closing by the end of next week-- considering we move on the 30th. I just want to get in and get rid of the cowboy print border on my bedroom wall.

I have a week to pack all this up. How the fuck did I ever get to own so much stuff? Why exactly did we need 7 different versions of Trivial Pursuit? All I want to do is watch a baseball game or a movie and relax, but I suppose I'll just do that after the move. I packed 11 boxes today and I have at least that many to do tomorrow. I'm just feeling like a housewife, which, rated on my list of life's dreams ranks somewhere around being a garbage collector. I'm just not cut out for the June Cleaver life.

On a different note, I tried on the shirt I bought on impulse from Wal-Mart yesterday. Nice print, cute cut, way too small in the bust. Shit. Of course, if I were going for the pancake look, I'd have hit the jackpot-- except for the fact that I could get the same look by duct taping my breasts down unevenly. Oh well, 8 dollars gone and a shirt for the goodwill, worse things have happened.

"Extreme Shark Diving"

2005-07-20T00:25:00.000-07:00

It's Shark Week again, reaffirming my distrust of the ocean.

I'm not a big fan of being submerged in the ocean. I got caught in a riptide in NC when I was 14 when I was boogie boarding with a friend. It's like swimming on a treadmill. I have no idea how long it took us to get back to the beach. An older man pulled us in, and to this day I have no idea who he was. Wherever you are Sir, thanks, I owe you one. It's still easily the scariest moment of my life. The beach police came and took a statement, and later when we were back inside we saw tv reports of shark sightings in the area.

We were from upstate NY, and had no earthly clue we were supposed to swim parallel to the shore. Where we're from the greatest aquatic dangers are swimming through someone else's pee in the lake, stepping on some jerk's littered broken beer bottle, tripping over a submerged tree stump or being mauled by mosquitos(or worse yet, losing your cooler over the side of the boat when you're going full speed.) Needless to say, it left me with a dislike of being in deep water. Actually, I didn't completely go in the ocean again til last October when I went snorkling in St. Thomas (which is, by the way, The Most Beautiful Place Ever.)

I'm watching a show about Extreme Shark Feeding...err, diving. As in, shark photographers are getting out of the cage and swimming alongside great white sharks. That gave me a moment of pause. Excuse me? As I'm aware, the cage is only for a bit of protection anyway. The sharks could get in if they wanted to, but why test fate? 12-foot sharks with enough bite force to keep most normal people away.There was one diver, a former Cosmo model-turned wild animal photographer that was diving with a broken arm and she was whining about not being able to grab on the dorsal fin and ride along with the shark like the other divers had. It was like watching a bad faux-documentary and I was waiting for someone to get chewed on. Sharks may be beautiful creatures, but this is clearly a case of "Better you than me."

I have my reasons for not wanting to dive with sharks. In the case of me versus the sharks, let's think about it.

Who's bigger? SHARK.

Who's faster? SHARK.

Who eats things that are still breathing? SHARK.

Who is constantly underestimated? ME.

Who's scarier? LIZA MINELLI...oops, I mean SHARK.

Who has an entire week of Discovery Channel programming devoted to them? SHARK.

In the most basic of comparisons-- it's 5-1, in the shark's favor. I'm also lacking the nerve to allow sharks to "test" me. Fuck that noise. A bite is a bite, and once I'm below the water, they're higher on the food chain. I understand that I have a better chance of being hit by a car, butI have no urge to dangle myself in the water like bait, and no chain mail suit is going to change my mind. They may not be mindless killers, and they are smarter than people may think-- but that's it right there. If it can decide to kill me because it feels like it, I don't need spider sense to tell me to avoid the situation. Down in the ocean, I am the equivalent of a 3-day old still-blind kitten facing a pack of methamphetamine-crazed bikers. No thanks. I'll be the one at the water's edge with the sunburnt nose, avoiding the washed up jellyfish.

So more power to you, crazy shark divers. Go ahead, swim around with chum-filled suits and cattle prods if you want, get the pictures, and I'll watch the shows. It's like watching the Crocodile Baby Dangler-- there's always the knowledge that he could lose a hand. So, don't act all shocked and angry if they bite you. Do, however, try and get it on camera-- you know, for next year's Shark Week.

I can't lie, I'm waiting for Potter...

2005-07-15T21:57:00.000-07:00

I had a shitty day today and I don't really want to get into it too much, but there's a problem with our plans to move. Hopefully it'll work out and we'll find out how this will work out on Monday. I'm just trying to keep myself upbeat.

What I want right now is a bear hug from a hot man, a long movie that makes me laugh and a warm brownie, or a cold beer. Where are all my gay boys when I need them?

what exactly is in fake fish?

2005-07-15T02:31:00.000-07:00

"PETA Calls For Town Of Fishkill To Change Name
Last Update: 7/14/2005 10:23:44 AM(Fishkill, NY)
AP 07/14/05 --

The animal rights group People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals is calling for the town of Fishkill to change its name.

The Poughkeepsie Journal reports that PETA wants the town to be known as FishingHurts.com, which just happens to be the Internet address for a PETA Web site dedicated to the group's "Fish Empathy Project."

Fishkill officials weren't biting Wednesday. The name Fishkill is actually derived from two Dutch words: Vis, for fish, and Kill, for stream or creek. PETA acknowledges the true meaning of the name, but said most who see Fishkill on a map wouldn't know that.

PETA also offered to donate $15,000 worth of a soy-based, faux-fish product for school students in the town if the name is changed."

I literally hurt from laughing at PETA. First Edward Furlong frees grocery store lobsters in the name of PETA, now this. I agree that it's not ok for baby chicks to have their beaks ripped off for chicken nuggets and that veal isn't so great that we should force-feed calves to get it...but this, this just negates everything PETA does that's remotely logical. I'd say it was a joke if I couldn't see them do this, it's just a amazingly stupid stupid stunt that just screams "publicity." I just got an image of a prospective college student telling an interviewer "I'm from fishinghurts.com. No really. Shut up. Everyone always laughs at my town! I hate PETA!"

I support the people that want to be vegetarians and those so into self-torture that they follow a vegan diet-- more steak for me. I couldn't do it. I tried to be a vegetarian in college, because for some reason I thought the crunchy hippie people had the right idea. I took vitamins like they said, and gave up red meat and fish, and all meat products, nothing with beef broth, nada. After a month or so I'd been living on chicken (I couldn't give that up) and salad and I wanted a sausage pizza like a crackhead wants rock. I've tried some of that pseudo-meat junk, and it's just like masturbation-- kinda like the real thing, but not really. But hey, maybe that "soy-based faux-fish product" would be better. I call Not It on trying it.

One thing does worry me about meat products, though. "mechanically separated chicken" being one of the first ingredients in Slim-Jims. That concerns me. Bad images.

Ron White said it best with "We didn't climb to the top of the food chain to eat carrots."

Yeah, I'm bored.

2005-07-14T22:01:00.000-07:00

Name: No point, I always end up with crazy nicknames anyway.

Birthday: 10/28/81

Birthplace: Just look for the herds of cows and hordes of bored teenagers

Current Location: I'm above NYC, so they say I'm upstate...but I'm below Plattsburgh and they say I'm downstate. It gives me a headache.

Eye Color: hazel

Hair Color: the box says "Brilliant Bordeaux"

Height: 5'5"...just short enough to look stubby in capris. I can't quite pull them off like K-Fed can. Thank god.

Right Handed or Left Handed: Right-handed. I tried writing with my left and it looked like a confused 4 year-old played finger paint with ink.

Your Heritage: Mutt I suppose...English, Dutch, Mohawk, German and Arabic. I'm caucasian with a permanent tan.

The Shoes You Wore Today: no shoes!

Your Weakness: sappy shows about baby animals and dark chocolate .

Your Fears: falling into the abyss between the bed and the wall in the middle of the night, being in a closed space with a man wearing too much cologne, spontaneous human combustion and spiders.

Your Perfect Pizza: Hawaiian, with extra pineapple. If it were perfect, it'd be here now.

Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year: Having a job where I don't hate life.

Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger: "wtf," "who is this again?"

Thoughts First Waking Up: "When can I go back to bed?"

Your Best Physical Feature: My hair, when I'm feeling emo I can put in front of my face, or let it air dry and I look like an extra from an 80's hair band video.

Your Bedtime: Lately? When the sun comes up.

Your Most Missed Memory: Doesn't that imply that I can't remember it? But I suppose it would be watching the Evil Dead movies with my friends for the first time.

Pepsi or Coke: Cherry Pepsi

MacDonalds or Burger King: BK, when they get my order right-- I don't eat ketchup, they don't get that.

Single or Group Dates: Single... less chance of being distracted (either by shiny things or someone more interesting and/or better looking...)

Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: snapple. But I refuse to say anything nice about it.

Chocolate or Vanilla: Chocolate. Do they have a rehab for that yet? Or do I have to be injecting between my toes first?

Cappuccino or Coffee: Coffee, and lots of it.

Do you Swear: Far too much, but oh well.

Do you Sing: All the time. The birds are jealous.

Do you Shower Daily: Yes, I'm neurotic like that.

Have you Been in Love: Not yet. Maybe my glasses were smudged when he walked by.

Do you want to go to College: Been there, and have many free and useless t-shirts to prove it.

Do you want to get Married: Not anytime soon. I can't afford the trip to Vegas.

Do you belive in yourself: I do what I can.

Do you get Motion Sickness: Not really. Only if I read on a rollercoaster on an empty stomach.

Do you think you are Attractive: My face doesn't scare small children and I'm in no danger of destroying Tokyo...so sure.

Are you a Health Freak: ...sorry....I can't type well when laughing.

Do you get along with your Parents: Somehow.

Do you like Thunderstorms: Yes, from inside behind a window.

Do you play an Instrument: I had a brief tenure with a clarinet before I realized I was talentless and could better exploit my geekiness in choir for the next 8 years.

In the past month have you Drank Alcohol: Yes.

In the past month have you Smoked: No.

In the past month have you been on Drugs: No, but the thought crossed my mind.

In the past month have you gone on a Date: HA.

In the past month have you gone to a Mall: Yes. I cemented my family black sheep title by running into a couple members of my family in a nice awkward situation involving a male friend of mine and a Victoria's Secret bag.

In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos: No... I can't eat more than 4, then the filling starts to taste like library paste to me(not that I know what that tastes like...)

In the past month have you eaten Sushi: Yes haha.

In the past month have you been on Stage: No, haven't been for a long, long time.

In the past month have you been Dumped: No (an upside to being single?)

In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping: Only in my shower.

In the past month have you Stolen Anything: A few moments of sanity in the midst of chaos.

Ever been Drunk: As far as I can remember.

Ever been called a Tease: Yes, but he was a jerk, so he doesn't count.

Ever been Beaten up: No, I can usually talk my way out of things.

How do you want to Die: Old, happy and medicated.

What do you want to be when you Grow Up: Professional museum geek.

What country would you most like to Visit: Most of Europe, but particularly Spain and England.

In a Boy...

Favourite Eye Color: Both the same color, pointing in the same direction.

Favourite Hair Color: Anything in the natural end of the color spectrum.

Short or Long Hair: I don't care but I don't go for guys that spend longer on their hair than I do.

Height: As long as they won't land in the Guiness Book of records for any crazy extremes, it's cool.

Weight: I don't care, as long as they have enough self-confidence either way.

Best Clothing Style: Clean.

Number of Drugs I have taken: 1

Number of CDs I own: Too many that I don't listen to anymore.

Number of Piercings: Just my ears.

Number of Tattoos: None yet.

Number of things in my Past I Regret: There's neither enough time nor space.

"I'm experiencing a shift in my career path..."

2005-07-13T20:38:00.000-07:00

It smelled more like pesticides and fried chicken today when I went for a walk. Easily explained by the small yellow pesticide warning flags all over marking where they put down the chemicals to kill whatever the apartment association deems too nasty to keep in the lawns. Consequently, we have to stay off them for a couple days. It's ok for me, but stinks royal for all the little kids around here.

We still don't have cold water in the kitchen. Mom blew up egg yolks in the microwave.

A couple nights ago I heard about a sort of reunion next month down on Long Island. One of my friends wants me to go, enough so to pick me up and let me stay at his place. I want to go, but I just wonder what it'll be like. There are definitely people I'd like to see, and haven't seen in over a year and a half... but there's also a lot of people that I don't care to ever see again, if only because I don't want to have to do the small talk "gee it's been a long time" thing. I graduated and got away from the drama, I don't miss it. I miss my friends being nearby and being able to just get out for a night, eat cold cheese pizza and go to happy hour every Friday at the same bar-- or just order in pizza and watch cheesy horror movies . I miss the trivia games, the free concerts and my ability to survive on coffee, cup 'o noodles and hot pockets-- and the utter lack of real responsibility. I do NOT miss the inane drama and annoying people (for example-- my old neighbors that used to get hammered and come stomping back down the hall like wasted water buffalo. I didn't mind the comments that got left on my white board when they were drunk, once in a while they managed to spell "bitch" right or thought up something inventive-- if a little physically impossible. I have to appreciate creativity. I didn't appreciate their friends that put the new toilet paper roll in the toilet or left used tampons on the shower floor. Come to think of it, I'd still like to yell at whomever took a dump in the girls shower during the summer session of '03.)

We can't recapture the past, but I'd like to celebrate it. I just wonder how time went so fast. I remember when I was a socially retarded young freshman with a low tolerance for embarrassment and no idea how to effectively argue with my roommate (I'll never forget the one that used to wash her underwear in the shower with lysol and then hang them up to dry in our room. We were like gunpowder and a flamethrower but I couldn't really express myself, so I let her yell at me and then after I got pissed about it. I accept my blame for being a doormat, but then again, I never waxed my eyebrows in the room and let the little wax bits go everywhere.) Thankfully now I'm only mildly socially retarded, but with a degree and the ability to argue with grass til it dies-- if the pesticides don't kill it first.

Do you feel lucky...punk?

2005-07-13T13:19:00.000-07:00

I had a seriously fucked up dream last night, or given my sleep schedule-- early this morning. I dreamt I was working at some little Kiwk-E-Mart kind of place and saw a bunch of people I went to high school with (I haven't even thought of them in years.) I sold them cigarrettes but it was awkward. Next bit I was at a bus stop-- made out of chain link fence, bizarre. I was talking to some middle aged woman and with no notice one of the chicks that I had seen in the store ran up with a gun and shot me in the stomach. I hit the ground, and all I could really feel was the cold chain link of the fence.

Someone called 911, and they couldn't figure out how to move me for some reason. I remember that I was in the ambulance, crying because I didn't know why she shot me, that I heard her and all I saw was the gun-- it looked huge. But the hospital was one I'd never seen before, back through the woods. I had to sign my name on a chalk board, and had to wait in the waiting room. It was freaky, I never saw any blood, but the people around me were flipping out and letting me go ahead of them in line. I was conscious and talking the whole time. It wasn't as scary as I would have thought, just very, very strange. Dude. No more Eminem and hotpockets before bedtime.

I've always had really detailed dreams, and they interest me, if only to get a glimpse of what's going on inside my head when I'm out. Best class I ever took in college was Psychology of Sleep and Dreams. I asked my professor a ton of questions (he was blind, he needed to hear our voices to get to know us.) It was interesting to learn the psychological basis for dreaming, but it was definitely col that he'd spend the first ten minutes of each class reviewing our dreams. We had to hand in dream diaries at every class and he'd help us understand them. More often than not dreams are just a mixed up jumble of things in the mind, but sometimes they're indicators of stress in life. To dream of death and danger is an indication of a major change in life, positive or negative-- but chances are this is just about survival. This crazy dream could be a reflection of my anxiety, or it could just mean that I watched too much violent tv. Who knows?

Couch change can buy groceries...

2005-07-13T00:09:00.000-07:00

There was another huge thunderstorm here today, around 4. I kind of wish it had happened later (read: now) so it would give me something to listen to. The rain helps me relax. Seems like I'm going have to invest in one of those weird white-noise sleep machines. As long as there's no birds chirping...that drives me insane when I'm trying to sleep.

CoinStar is an awesome thing. Little did I know that we had almost a hundred bucks laying around the apartment in nickles, dimes and pennies. We ended up with $98.49, works for me. Free money almost. I look forward to being able to save my spare quarters, too...when I won't have to spend 8 of them to do a load of laundry in machines that work only when they feel like it. It was all a nice flashback to me paying my phone bill in small change and one fun afternoon of rolling dimes in the Key Bank lobby so I could cash them in (I had a coffee habit that would drop a yuppie.)

3 days til Harry Potter. Yeah... I'm a Potter freak.

I was thinking about my old job today. Yep, still feel the same-- Fuck 'em. I hope it sucks there now as much as it did when I was there, only now they get to do my job.

A study in middle-class overaccumulation...

2005-07-11T21:37:00.000-07:00

http://toothpastefordinner.com/032703/a-stupid-job.gif

The closing on our house was set for next Tuesday, so we finally have a date to look forward to. We get the keys at that meeting, and then we're off to Sears to go into hock for appliances and bathroom decor. Mom's really excited, and for good reason-- if the place we bought that house looks anymore like Wisteria Lane, I'd expect my neighbor to be Mike the hot plumber. She's going to live there way longer than me, so her opinion of it carries more weight than mine. But I pay rent, so mine matters some, I think. Either way, my new room is huge and I get finally have wireless internet (the geek in me fucking hates dial-up.) The only issue is the cowboy-pattered wall border in the room-- so I get to spend a day or two steaming it off and repainting. Oh well, who doesn't look thier best covered in paint flecks, sweat and dust? (that would be me, but it's worth it.)

I finished excavating that closet, it held more useless shit than a neighborhood yard sale. Is this why I got an anthro degree and took classes in archaeology? I feel like I should have drawn a map and hired undergrads to do the dirty work for free.

Sad, sad aging supermodel...

2005-07-10T22:28:00.000-07:00

Damn it I'm bored.

Life hasn't been this fun since some hotel clerk in NC overcharged my credit card 3340 dollars. At least then I was busy getting my credit fixed.

Wow. I think I'd punch Janice Dickinson in the face. The attention-whore-ness is really annoying. Then again, I'd get mad if Bronson Pinchot groped me too-- he reminds me of that old guy that's in every bar that tries to hit on the younger women, and seems awkward and socially stunted.

Holy shit. Tofu and octopus.

2005-07-09T22:38:00.000-07:00

I actually did something besides pack, clean, bitch and watch tv today!

I went to the mall with my mom for a while, just to wander around and window shop mostly. I did end up getting some earrings, though. Nothing drastic. I found something great in FYE-- an entire season of Garfield & Friends, it's my old favorite morning cartoon. Whatever, I know I'm a geek. It was only strange because I almost got the Poison's Greatest Hits to go with it. I ended up picking up Eminem's latest cd instead (Poison joins Motley Crue on my christmas list.)

Dinner was surreal. Mom and I met up with a group of women she works with, I know them all and they're cool. It's strange, I'm the only one out of the group that doesn't have a mortgage payment. One of the women turned 30 today, so we met up to celebrate the end of her 20's. The thing is, my mom feels a little awkward during these nights out because I've never heard women talk more about sex, vibrators, binge drinking and various other things before in my life. It's crazy, in a really funny way. Seems like that's going to be me and my friends in 10 years. I had my 3 rum & cokes with dinner... I think my obliterated nights are done... especially when I'm out with my mom and her friends.

We went to the best japanese restaurant in the area. It's a hibatchi-type place, and the guy cooking our food was amazing. If I ever tried that shit I'd end up looking like I'd played Uncle with Freddy. They cook everything with saki, and the guy was shooting free shots for people at the table (I passed, saki tastes like rubbing alcohol to me.) Vegetable fried rice, miso soup (yeah, tofu's not bad in that,) shrimp, filet mignon and chicken...and I tried sushi for the first time-- tuna and then octopus-- the tuna was good... I'll pass on eating octopus again-- it was like chewing on rubber bands. The food was unbelievable, but I won't end up eating there again for a really long time. It was damned expensive, it must have been close to 300 bucks for the 7 of us. They did give the birthday girl a free ice cream cake for the whole table-- there was another party of people sitting with us. Sang her Happy Birthday complete with a gong.

Damn, I almost felt smart for a minute.

2005-07-09T02:29:00.000-07:00

I suppose subconsciously I was just feeling a little too smart, so instead of buying replacement razors, I decided to try that bladeless shaving system crap that's out. Yeah, I know. Basically, it's Nair with a small rubber squeegee. How dignifying. But hell, shaving sucks. Stings like crazy every time I cut myself, so why not try something new?

NO. AVOID. AVOID. AVOID.

It's hell. Burns like a bastard and now my bathroom smells like I gave someone a perm. I could have gotten the same result by shaving with a spoon over sunburnt skin.

On a brighter note...I caught the 40 Most Awesomely Bad Breakup Songs Ever countdown...I think I must know the words to over 95% of them. I think that either makes me a huge loser, or a huge music geek (most likely, both. No one who knows all the words of Mr. Mister's "Take These Broken Wings" and Britney Spears' "From The Bottom of my Broken Heart" can lay claim to much credibility. Let's not mention Michael Bolton being sung at work.)

Damn. The problem with so many of those songs is that they're either stalker anthems, or they're just whiny, wussy sobfests. That's what makes them so awesomely bad. They've got some classics on that list, but some of them are just too much, even for me. Eamonn had the right idea with his song. Who hasn't wanted to just let loose once? But then again, I never really had to tell a guy he's a ho-- now douchebag or pointless scum, that's more likely. One of my favorites was Motley Crue's "Don't Go Away Mad, Just Go Away." Now that's awesome. One of the songs in the first hour was so bad I'd never even heard it but it had a line about how he'd subtract 20 years of his life for her. Whoa. Red Flag to the Mayor of Crazytown.

I forgot how hard it is to get some of these songs out of my head, and if I walk around tomorrow singing a Winger song, I'll have to do something drastic-- like put on my Bangles Greatest Hits cd on to empty my head. I'm still looking for a Martika album to do the job...

The most insane thing is, one of the people that did those little comic bit things during the countdown went to my high school, and I graduated with his sister. Sounds stupid, but my hometown is crazy small-- it's like a farm with a school on it. Bizarre.

No rhyme or reason...

2005-07-08T13:31:00.000-07:00

I was up til 4 last night, per usual...but at least I was on the phone for the last hour of unable to sleep. One of my friends is having the same issues, we made random conversation about the downhill direction of today's children and I told him a story from my trip down south.

(It was the day after my friend's wedding and she picked me up at my hotel to go meet her new husband and everyone else from the wedding party for lunch. She picked me up in the Newlywed car-- there were beads and TP all over it, and show polish over the windows saying things like "Honk! We just got married!" With 2 chicks in the car, with no men, the people going by just goggled and we could see the thought bubbles "But...but...that's not legal here." So we made a joke out of it and made a quick sign that said "Have you seen my husband?" and we took turns holding it in the windows. Everyone got a nice laugh out of that.)

But speaking of her wedding, she said there are a few pictures coming my way of the wedding party. I'd like to see them, we all looked so pretty (and it'll get my mom off my ass, she never got to see me in the bridesmaid dress.) I want her to see a shot of my hair, it took over an hour and had 88 pins in it, and so much hairspray that the stylist told me to "Avoid open flames" but hell, it looked good and I hadn't ever been that dressed up (the shoes just about crippled me though.)

I have to give my brother a call today, and congratulate him on his grades. He's a solid B student, and I think he'll end up doing better as he gets more used to junior high. I can't believe my monster brother is going to be 14 in a couple months (partly because I'll turn 24 a month after his birthday.) He'll always be my little anklebiter, that punched me in the face the first time I ever held him. See? He started it.

Attack of the underfed diet zombies...

2005-07-08T00:14:00.000-07:00

I had the tv on for background noise today (laundry is so not fun and folding is just so tedious), Vh1...not a real shock. I did watch the show they had "How Thin is Too Thin?" Good question. The starlets are starting to look like toothpicks with golf balls balanced on top. What exactly is sexy about a woman that has the body of a 14 year-old girl? The camera may add 10 pounds, so apparently it's necessary to lose 15 or 20 just in case. Some of them, it looks like the only way they can lose more weight is to cut off a limb (I'm not looking farward to that fad.) They mentioned Nicole Kidman, who I used to think was gorgeous...she now looks like a ghost, pale, underfed and like she could slip through a hole in the floorboards. She's 5'11, and about 115 pounds. Yikes.

I'd be the first to say I could stand to lose a few, but I'm happy the way I am. Where's the role models for me? Little girls are growing up and looking at Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan as role models-- great, they look like they do more coke than I eat food. There's some actresses that are giving the finger to the standards, but the standards are strangling everyone else. What's wrong with the system in Hollywood that the women need to be so small? Is it a power issue? What happened to the "don't eat the whole cake and get some exercise" diet? Now it's Atkin's (no beer? Hell no.) or South Beach, or the "play with your food and not eat it" diet. Now way they all just have those miraculous superfast metabolisms of toddlers, not a chance. There's the exercise bulimia deal-- go ahead and eat that bad-bad pizza, but then go run for 3 hours. Now that's a smart one, even I know that that hurts your body in the end more than helps it. Go ahead, break down your joints and tendons. Destroy your muscles and mental abilities-- it'll be worth it, right?

It's downright scary to think of the young girls now-- I worked with some that were about 10. They worried that they were getting fat, and used to ask how many calories were in the food we gave out for snack. Is no one seeing this red flag? Yes, it's bad that America in general is getting fatter-- but part of it is the shame that is part of eating now. Having the temerity to enjoy some Ben and Jerry's is now expected to have "Oh well, I've been so good lately, I can just splurge a little. I'll just do an extra hour of yoga later" attached to it. It's getting worse for men now too. I've never found that uber-buff look attractive at all. But then again, there's more leeway for men.

The problem is that people seem to expect more than they want to give, or at least that's what I've seen. Guys shouldn't expect a princess if they're not Prince Charming. But who wants Prince Charming? How boring. It seems so stupid to me to hear women talking about changing their men. Why date them if you just want to change them? It's obnoxious for anyone to think that they should impose their images of perfection on someone else. I wonder what other people think, especially men. Maybe I'm just having a moment, I don't know.

In a completely unrelated subject, Polo looks painful, and although the possibility of me ever playing polo is right up there with me ever walking on the moon...that made me sure to avoid it. I like horses...on tv. They're bigger than me, and smarter than people give them credit for. Like the teenage boys I worked with-- 3 times my size and not totally in control of their bodies.

Curses! Burnt again...

2005-07-07T13:37:00.000-07:00

Nothing reminds me so much that I live in a shitty apartment than when I burn my hand YET AGAIN with the water in the kitchen. For the past year and a half, it's been impossible to get cold water out of our kitchen sink, it always comes out scalding hot. I was just trying to rinse some dishes, and the bowl got too hot to hold, and it slipped out of my hand, which splashed my arms and chest (it hit my shirt, and still burnt me. That's too hot.) I can't wait to live somewhere the sink isn't a weapon.

I should have been more careful what I wished for in college. For the last year I lived there, I had to take lukewarm to cold showers everyday because my dorm had horrible water problems (it was COLD.) No one likes to take unnecessary cold showers. I wished for unlimited hot water back then...and now I have it. brb, I have to go to the bathroom and fill up my Brita pitcher.

As I do the "shitshitshit" dance around my kitchen holding my hand, I notice my credit card bill lying on the counter. Nothing reminds me how close to broke I am like my credit card bill. Either I need to start selling my belongings on ebay, or someone needs to hire me somewhere. Glad to see my degree is so useful...

CSI is less depressing...

2005-07-06T23:36:00.000-07:00

I watched the local news tonight and the top 3 stories are all just crazy. The top story was about a 9 year-old kid that allegedly touched young girls in his class inappropriately for 3 years. It's pretty serious stuff he's been accused of. The uproar's over the fact that he's likely to be let back into the school next September. He's gotten some therapy...but that's really scary.

Next up was a postal worker in a nearby suburb accused of being caught in a police sting-- he thought he was talking to a minor on the net when he said things like, "you want to have sex with me?" He denies it, and said that he knew it was an adult the whole time.

After that theres a story from the city I used to work in. Neglectful city planning has caused debris left in a vacant lot to slide slowly down the hill behind a citizen's home and has caused it to be unlivable. The mayor (a complete moron, I've seen him in action) promised them help in housing, but he dragged his feet for 2 weeks and the family had to go to the town council. They did the reporting from a place I used to walk by everyday when I got off my bus.

Oh wait, make that 4 awesome upbeat news stories-- there were 2 unrelated shootings nearby. A teenage boy was killed in the first one-- he was "having words" with an unidentified person in a car when they shot him multiple times. No one was hurt in the second. A couple months ago there was a home invasion just a mile or two from here. Crazy. It's enough to make me almost miss that boring hellhole that I left when I graduated. At least there the biggest issues and dangers are drunken people on snowmobiles and dirtbikes, or the huge drug problem in the high school.

I guess on the upside, Lil Kim got sentenced to a year and a day for perjury and whatever else she did to piss off the court. And in really good news, I'm finally proud of something to come from so close to my hometown-- a local church chose to endorse same-sex marriages. The good news helps to not be so cranky about all the negative news that piles up in that "if it bleeds, it leads" kind of way. I think Don Henley had it right when he wrote Dirty Laundry...

"I make my living off the evening news

Just give me something-something I can use

People love it when you lose,

They love dirty laundry

Well, I coulda been an actor,

but I wound up here

I just have to look good,

I don’t have to be clear

Come and whisper in my ear

Give us dirty laundry"

It's not irrational...

2005-07-06T02:01:00.000-07:00

Ok, I need to vent. I was on myspace, and one of my bulletins was from a guy I knew from school. The summer of '01, I was his orientation leader for freshman orientation. He was so shy and freaked out that I kind of took him under my wing. I talked to him online right up til the fall semester started, and didn't laugh at him too hard when he came running into my room wasted for the first time.

Obviously, he was fine. Got new friends...made some serious mistakes (don't we all?) He's back downstate now that he's done. We met back up online a couple weeks ago, and it was nice to talk to him, and now for the first time in 4 years, I got irritated with him. He posted this:

"So, 3 weeks into having my car, BOOM, I get into a MVA, JESUS CHRIST! Fucking bitch in front of me stops short and gives me no room to brake! I have come to the conclusion that women can't drive!"

I understand anyone would be pissed about getting into an accident, especially with a new car. But this is one of my most extreme pet peeves. This is the kind of sexism that's the most dangerous. The casual shit that no one seems to concerned about. It's a stereotype, and it's wrong. Men get into more accidents than women. Why break it down by gender-- some People just drive badly (hard to drive when you have your head up your ass.) What makes me even madder is when people tell me to not worry about it, because it's not serious. It is. It makes it harder to work for equality in the workplace, and even for reproductive rights when there's this insane stereotype that women are inherently too emotional (that's the basis for the bad driver assumption, that women are too emotional and impetuous.) I can handle being called a bitch, because I am, but I think it's rediculous to assume that a uterus and estrogen can negatively impact a skill like driving.

I almost got mowed down in a parking lot last week by some sideways hat-wearing, neon-driving twit...but I recognize that HE is a bad driver, not the entire male half of the species. Is that so hard? And yes, I did email him to say that he's too smart to say something like that.

I won't ever vaccuum in heels and pearls.

2005-07-05T13:01:00.000-07:00

Help! I'm turning into June Cleaver with a swearing habit. Or Martha Stewart without the prison record.

Thanks to being unemployed, the majority of this moving BS is my responsibility. I don't mind that, it keeps me busy. What's starting to be strange is that I cook, I clean and when I take a break I work on my afghan. What's happening? I love to cook, in fact, if I could find someone who'd pay me to cook for them I'd do it in a heartbeat. I hate cleaning, though...and I always will. It never ends, once I settle down for hardcore cleaning, it always snowballs into more cleaning. Yesterday was my bathroom, today is the hall closet (otherwise known as the Elephant Graveyard.) As for the afghan, it's pretty, and I want it done by winter, because despite how the fact that I've lived here all my life I am still shocked at how cold it gets here. Life's just getting a little too house-wifey. Phew, good thing I'm single.

I lost my earring sometime this morning. It was annoying, and I managed to find the actual earring...but I still couldn't find the back. About 20 minutes later, I felt something peculiar--and after a quick search found the earring back inside my bra. So maybe I should say I'm turning into Peggy Bundy. I hope I don't lose my cell today...

Hurry, hurry lover come to me...

2005-07-05T00:10:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my habit now of watching Vh1 more often than any other channel (those countdowns are addicting) I just got another dose of Paula Abdul. For all her dysfunction, fighting with that delightful dream-smashing Simon, sleeping with the sleazy-looking Idol guy with the afro and crusading for safer nail salons...I hold a place in my memories for her music.

It's 1991, 3 young friends decide to enter the elementary school talent show. There really was only one option for the ambitious trio...to choreograph a dance routine (and showcase thier vocal powers) to a song by their idol, Paula Abdul. They argued over what song to choose, with the final choice being "Rush Rush." Obviously it was the perfect song for two 5th graders and a 4th grader to sing. They created the dance routine, but put more effort into their costumes-- shiny black and gold tank tops, black dance tights and black slippers. Put together with their boy-cut hairdos and the 1 microphone-- they were destined for success. One father, deciding to preserve the moment for posterity (and hilarity) taped the performance. It recieved rave reviews from grandmothers and younger siblings alike.

14 years later...

My dad, after cementing my future embarassment by taping my first taste of fame, converted it to dvd. Out of the 3 of us, the oldest is now married, the youngest is engaged, and I...well, I aim to have a puppy within the next couple months. In May I went down south for my friend's wedding, and I brought the dvd. The day after the wedding we watched it and her new husband summed it up best by saying, "If I'd seen this yesterday, there'd been no wedding." We laughed about it, but damn, I looked like I was made out of toothpicks (clearly the look that Nicole Ritchie is going for) because it was years before puberty ran me down like a 94 year-old woman behind the wheel of a Lincoln. My favorite part is where I'm the one who wore leggings with 2 inches of skinny ankle showing (I can't remember why I didn't have tights) and then we were all off cue and doing the same bizarre dance-- but forgetting to look out at the audience.

Another one of my friends watched the video and all he could say was, "What the...are you guys picking up change off the floor or something? Being electrocuted?"

Whatever. Clearly he was jealous of the shiny gold flowered tank tops. But I do live in fear of any of us becoming famous. My love of Vh1 would doubtless bite me in the ass when that tape became the newest episode of Before They Were Famous. I still wish we'd sang "Cold-Hearted Snake"...

Baseball geek...

2005-07-04T15:08:00.000-07:00

To celebrate the nation's birthday, I'm watching baseball and cleaning my toilet. Life, so grand. The baseball game's worth it, though. Orioles at Yankees, it's a good game but the pitchers are all having a off day or something. Bruce Chen started for Baltimore and let 6 go by, and Tanyon Sturtz started for the Yankees because of the Pavano's injury, and he's so much more reliable in the bullpen than as a starter. His arm just started to go and he ended up walking the bases full and forcing Sosa home by a walk. I feel bad in a way, I've missed a lot of games this season, but I'm sure my boys will pull up soon. They're in third, but only behind by 5 games.

It's 4-6 Yankees in the 4th, and there's a been a spectacular display of the one of the few things that irritates me about the game (besides celebrity cameos in the stands getting more air time than the players) and that's intentional or unintentional hitting, and it all gets blown way crazy. The home ump warned both teams after Sturtz accidentally hit someone, and then Gary Sheffield got hit on the hand by Baltimore. Both managers were "discussing" it with the ump, and now it seems like they've all been warned...and the pitchers can't mess with inside pitches too much. They're grown men, it bugs me when it looks like retaliation... my brother's old t-ball games were like that. 42 kids in the outfield and scuffles over the ball all the time.

Ok, ok...I'll shut up about the game. But I'd rather talk about that than the bleach fumes emanating from my toilet in the bathroom.

Pauly Shore is... Gross

2005-07-03T22:49:00.000-07:00

Whatever is in Simply Sleep, it works. Knocked me out faster than watching a Lifetime movie with Tori Spelling.

Today I did get to the pool with my mom...but we only made it for about 45 minutes before the neighborhood kids took over. Hell, a pool on a hot day is exactly where I would have wanted to be if I were 6 or 7, but their parents just let them run wild. One kid kept spashing water on the side of the pool and all over us, had to be around 9 times. His mom just sat there, while I shook the water off of my book and contemplated throwing her in. I know what my mom would have done if I had done that when I was little-- I would have heard my whole name and my stuff would be packed up before I had a chance to splash again. The lifeguards appear to have completed puberty this year, but I think I saw them stand up once and they totally ignored the small children doing cannonballs on each other's heads in the deep end. I must be getting old or something.

I took a walk earlier tonight, and discovered that bees love my shampoo. Actually, it was a sample of Herbal Essences left over from the gift basket from my cruise earlier this year. I figured I may as well use it before I move, besides, it's likely the closest I'm going to get to an "organic experience" anytime soon. I could really only laugh when I got dive bombed and buzzed by the same bee for about 10 minutes. My hair smelled way better than the air around this city, and thanks to the KFC down the road, it smells roughly like someone was cooking fried chicken in Satan's armpit.

I think I'll rent a movie off demand tonight, the last one I got was Lemony Snicket (nice grown-up flick. cute, though.) By the way, don't waste any time ever watching Pauly Shore is Dead. I thought that since I loved his movies (except Jury Duty) that it would be funny. I didn't make it too far, it wasn't long before my eyes burned at the sight of him whacking off in bed under the covers and almost hitting Verne Troyer with his car. It wasn't really what I had in mind. I wish I'd found it funnier, maybe I was just in a bad mood when I watched it. Go Pauly, get your comeback, but please don't ever do anymore masturbation scenes. I hear he has a new sitcom coming...

Fake tan must kill brain cells

2005-07-02T23:24:00.000-07:00

I think I like this blog much more than my old one. The anonymity is nice. I may let a couple friends know about it, but probably not. I'd rather have the space to vent to people that don't know me (or more likely, that no one will ever read and I'll be venting to myself.) Who knows.

I need to meet some people. The last people I hung out all the time with turned out to be so immature that they'd make the teenaged boys I worked with look like dignified citizens. As for dating, I'm on hiatus, indefinitely.

The guys around here are unbelievable. It's a college town, so the imports from downstate NY and Long Island are in vast numbers. The stereotypes of the LI kids aren't all true...but for some reason Gotti Boy syndrome has invaded the area here. Slick, gelled up hair (with the headbands that I wore in the 80's) button-down shirts or t-shirts small enough for a five year-old, and enough fake tans to collectively make this city glow orange. I understand that I don't think I should judge them by what they wear... but I do by what comes out of their mouths. I went out a few months ago and in the long line at the front of the club (3 floors of the drunken 20-something mating dance) I overheard the conversation from the three guys behind me. It was something like this:

Tool #1: *runs his hands through his hair and shakes it into place* "Those bitches we came with already got in. They'd better be waiting, they know better."

Tool #2: *buttons and rebuttons his shirt to show off the designer label* "Yeah, they're waiting. They better have the beers ready. Is it always so fuckin' hard to get in here?"

(NOTE: it is not at all hard to get in there, they just ID tight. The trio behind me just felt that their shiny gorgeousness should allow them a shorter wait.)

Tool #3: "The key is..." *stops to put on chapstick and adjust his pants over his Lugz, to try and make his package look bigger* "...to try and look as GAY as possible. Button your shirts up and laugh like a F**. The bouncers are all gay anyway, so they let all them in easier. So act as gay as you can."

When I *accidentally* stepped on his Lugz, he whined about "stupid bitches." I figured they were underage, but thankfully once I was inside I was spared from sharing air with them. I was irritated with the girls they were with, who had faithfully waited with beers by the doors.

This is what's out there? Homophobe misogynists? I should stick to the parks and museums like usual. I know not all men are like that, I'm not demented...but it seems like it sometimes. And it's not limited to the guys, I spoke to one of my male friends and he was saying how he's tired of going out now because it seems like all the girls have extensions, fake tans, fake boobs and stilettos that they forget they're wearing when they get drunk and step on his feet with. Scary, the idea of the death of the normal person.

I don't think it's too much to ask for, to only date a guy who can hold a decent conversation and keep his eyes off my breasts for at least half of it. But more importantly, I can't take the prospect of dating an idiot with no sense of humor. If it's not possible to find a guy who makes me laugh and laughs at my jokes when they're actually funny... I'll just resign myself to a life of dogs, chocolate and Dr. Phil reruns. Soon or later, ther'll come a man, with more than 4 brain cells dancing around inside his head, raving with tiny little glowsticks, telling each other they love them and staring vacantly at the shiny lightshows coming from behind his eyelids.

Blueberry-scented hangover

2005-07-02T20:41:00.000-07:00

Last night was day 4 in the battle of insomnia. By 2 am I fully intended to fall asleep, or to at least *try.* I wish the thunderstorm we had had lasted longer. It was awesome, I sat by the balcony window and just watched the lightning. Cliched, I know, but it was relaxing. Everytime the lightning flashed, I got a flashbulb glimpse of everything out in the darkness, even the raindrops on the way down.

But enough waxing poetic about nature. Although I may again if I manage to get out to the apartment complex's pool tomorrow (nothing like sharing a pool with a couple hundred other people, but it's usually pretty quiet there.) Last summer it seemed like every time I went something funny happened. Once I had to play toy lifeguard when a little boy threw his action figure (my brother would yell at me if I said "doll") in to the pool and the Actual lifeguard was too busy filing her nails. Another time I was relaxing with a book and overheard the two teenage girl lifeguards talking about how they "So totally should open a salon/pool. Where you could like get your hair done and go swimming." There's only a couple *giant* problems there:

1) Electricity + Bodies of water= Dead Bodies. Bad for business.
2) Most women, after paying anywhere from 20 to 200 dollars to get their hair done, are not going to immediately want to dive in a pool.

Was I like that at 16 or 17? I don't think so, but I do know I was a champion eye-roller and I could keep the silent treatment going like a pissed off married woman. Speaking of being 16, however... I got a call today from my dad (in the midst of a very big series of July 4th weekend farm parties) and he tossed the phone off to someone who wanted to talk to me. Turned out it was one of my old best friends. We hadn't spoken in about a year or so. She moved and I had no number to contact her.

When we were 16, her parents went away for a weekend and told her she could have me over. I brought my bag to her house , and then we decided to do what any good 16 year-old with no adult supervision would do-- call other people and try to have a party. We ended up getting another good friend of hers over, with her boyfriend. To shorten a story that undoubtedly only I find really amusing-- that night I had my first beer, first cigarette, tried weed (only felt foolish,) played my first drinking game and watched my first porno (felt VERY foolish.) We crashed out after I ate a giant bag of doritos, and couldn't figure out why I was so hungry, at about 3 am. I had to leave just before 7, because she had to be somewhere. I walked back home, feeling like I'd been pulled through a knothole backwards and probably smelling like the inside of a Brooklyn trashcan. My house was full of visiting family, so the only place I could sleep was over the arms of a recliner. I looked at the clock before I passed out and it was 7:06, at 7:14...8 minutes later...my dad woke me up (my first thought was "Crap! I should have brushed my teeth!") He brightly told me that he was awake and that we should go Blueberry Picking. He dragged me around that blueberry patch for an hour, carrying 5 pound flats of berries. My foot slipped out of my sandal once and my poor bare toes smushed in a mound of rotten blueberries, and I think short of a few nights in college...I've never felt so strong an urge to puke.

To this day, I think my dad did it on purpose.

Spaztic

2005-07-02T14:17:00.000-07:00

In the interest of national news, Sandra Day O'Connor has announced her retirement from the Supreme Court. She was appointed in '81, and she's reached her retirement age (I estimate I'll need to work until I'm about 89 to be able to retire and survive.) I hold a small hope close to my heart that Bush will think with Someone's brain and listen, and appoint someone more moderate (liberal? Never. That would be like appointing an alien, right?) But I have a feeling the suggested appointee is going to be some old, white man with views so conservative it'll make Moses look like a long-haired, pot-smoking hippie.

In the interest of news that my generation will likely care more about-- Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner had their shotgun wedding in Turks and Caicos. The world waits with baited breath to see if Katie Holmes will break away from the Scientology tornado-weirdo that is Tom Cruise. I personally think they look happy...but he seems almost freakishly hyper-spastic (want some Ritalin Tom? hehe, ask Matt Lauer) I could probably buy some from someone around here, though.

Letter to my fellow riders

2005-07-01T20:23:00.000-07:00

I was just thinking about my old commute. I don't miss it, but believe it or not, I miss my bus drivers. They take more crap than I ever have. I still take the bus around here, it wasn't so bad once I got used to it, but sometimes...it was almost more than I could take. Here's what I wished I could say. I'm a small-town girl, and this was my first year using a public city bus everyday.

Dear Crazy People at my Bus Stop,

Stop talking to me. I don't care if you hate the police, whether it be bike cops, horse cops or meter maids, please don't talk to me about it. You say you were wrongfully accused and now you're on probation or parole, I don't want to know. Enjoy your beer in a paper bag, it's 1:00 in the afternoon, lots of alcoholics do that. Drink your Miller Ice and avoid talking to me.

Do not tell me your political opinions and expect me to converse with you about mine. If I told you I was a liberal feminist, you'd probably stab me and I do not have medical insurance yet.

Turn the cover of your hardcore bondage gay porn magazine the other way. It's only to be polite. I'd ask the same if it were Hustler or Playboy. I know it's only 7 AM and that you have your techno on in your headphones and are in your own little world-- but I'm asking politely not to see whips and chains when I'm waiting for my bus.

Keep your little bundles of joy on a leash, and your dogs too. I love kids, but when they're next to me licking the bus stop bench, it frightens me. Many, many asses sit on that bench, and I hesitate to think about what else, keep her in the stroller so she doesn't get herpes before Kindergarten.

Do not mumble at me about the DMV. Everyone hates going there, even, I assume, the people who work there. As much as you may hate the DMV, please avoid overusing the phrase "stupid fuckers, I'll tell them, stupid fuckers."

Take your anti-psychotic medications. There is no stigma to it, lots of people use them. But you *must* use them, and not talk about how you do not always take your Haldol and expect me to want to sit next to you and make small talk.

Don't be a jerk to the homeless people. I'm sure it doesn't make their day to ask you for your spare change.

Never, under any circumstances, threaten to spank me or call me a bad girl. You are old enough to be my grandfather and it makes me want to shower for hours.

Thank you, Have a good day.

Boxed Up

2005-07-01T14:40:00.000-07:00

Due to my recent unemployment (I'll end up venting about how that went down sooner or later) I now have time to think. When working with kids, thinking is a luxury, like getting to use the bathroom and blinking.

Things that irritate me:
1)Anyone who calls themselves a "fitness celebrity" (I'm including Kirstie Alley here.)

2)When a phone on tv has the same ringer as mine and confuses me (self-explanatory.)

3)People who take reality shows far too seriously (I play devil's advocate once, implying that the people on reality tv are just people too, and I get lectured about being cynical. That's just me, though.)

4)The word "crunk" (Damn you Justin Timberlake.)

5)Spam that implies I'm going to hell or am a bad person for not believing in Jesus (It's like when I get stopped at a bus stop and told that reading a Stephen King book is sinful.)

6)Michael Ian Black, Martha Stewart and Billy Mays (instant MUTE)

7)The fact that extensive cleaning starts a huge cycle of more, neverending cleaning (packing sucks.)

8)When I accidentally burn my hotpocket because my new microwave is 3X as strong as my old one (food is expensive, I don't like to waste it. It makes me have flashbacks to my mother telling me about starving children during dinner.)

9)The pain that lasts for hours after I stub my toe (it's amazing how many curse words I can fit into a minute of hopping around on one foot.)

10)Couture clothing for dogs that costs more than my clothes (Damn you small celebrity mini-dogs that fit in a purse.)

11)The chick at Mobil that told my mom that "ladies don't drink beer." (How odd, I was always taught that ladies minded their own business. It made me want to walk down there and buy a couple 40's of Old English and a porno magazine, just to see what she'd say.)

12)People that ask when I plan to use my degree (apparently telling them that my anthropology degree is best used for sounding pompous at family parties is rude.)

13)How there's a creepy little kid in almost every horror movie lately (kids are kind of scary sometimes.)

14)When I do something stupid (I do something foolish with regularity, but I really don't like it when I do something REALLY stupid (like writing down the wrong week my friend was coming to visit and being totally ready a week early. Or forgetting a pan is hot when it comes out of the oven and grabbing it barehanded.)

15)Public transportation (A nightmare.)

I have to allow for the fact that I'm bored out of my mind. I can only pack so much every day before I start to feel like I'm living in a land of boxes. I spent so much time pitching stuff out and organzing my own belongings, now I have to start on everything else. 29 days. I am really looking forward to moving, it's been a long time coming.

Why the hell not?

2005-07-01T13:06:00.000-07:00

It's nearly 1 in the afternoon, and I've managed to accomplish *zip.* I've been having issues sleeping, as in, I haven't been. Ok, that's not quite true, I fall asleep around 4:30 AM and am by turns cranky or groggy for the rest of the day. Oh well, I'll try again tonight.

It's not even that I have some raging caffeine habit, I haven't had a cup in days. Two years ago was the time when I should have been concerned about diluting my blood with caffeine. I drank it like my fellow college students drank beer-- warm and copiously.

I'd go for a nice long walk before bedtime, but I can't do that here because I have this thing about being mugged. The nearest gas station to me got robbed and ripped off so much that now it's pay before you pump, and for a while, they were buzzing people in at night. Even when I walk around during the day, it seems like I get catcalled as though I'm skipping naked through a construction site, and I know some women aren't bothered by it-- but I'm hardly flattered. I don't want to take NyQuil for the sake of passing out, that stuff is like liquid braindeath for me. Someone suggested I drink warm milk, and once I'd stopped retching at the suggestion... I decided to tough it out.

I'm not sure why I've decided I need a new blog...I'm just kind of tired of LiveJournal, and I'd like one with a little more privacy. I suppose I could keep a real journal, with paper and pen...but it's not the same for me. Besides, I type faster than I can write.