Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Silly:

Saturday, December 26, 2009

I remember being on the bus and talking to a woman. For some odd reason, we got into a conversation about relationships. I was saying how stupid it was to follow that infatuation feeling to the altar, before you get to really know a person. Of course, being afflicted with foot-in-mouth disease, she said, "Well, my husband and I got married after just a few a months. But that was when we were 30." "Oh," I said, "that's not what I'm talking about. When you're older, you should know what you want and go for it, that's far more reasonable then. It's when you're 18 that a person should maybe wait."

I never believed in that clicking thing. Sure, I've been infatuated with people, and fucked with them at my leisure, but really nothing that screamed "love". I didn't click in that way with ExFiancee, but I really did like him, and later loved him, but that took time to love him. And Mr. Asshat, well, I love him like a friend, and hope the best for him.

This is different. Insanely different. Beautifully different. But I'm terrified to know what he thinks, so I don't ask. I'm not ready for that yet. I don't know if I'd ever be ready for that, and if I miss the chance, so be it. That will solely be my fault, and I'm okay with that, no hostilities toward him.

There's a lot I like about him, but there's also some things that kinda worry me. Oddly enough, the OCD doesn't bother me. Well, okay, it does a little, but only when you have to say goodbye three times for it to actually be goodbye and I'm wonked out tired and would like to get to bed. But that's not bad. The main thing is the unemployment. And it's bad here. Unemployment leads to bad things, so I've learned, and it worries me. It really worries me, because it tends to bring out the worst in people. And I have a tendency to bring out the worst in people, so it's doubly bad.

But like I keep telling myself...for as long as it lasts. Because it never lasts forever.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Post 501, and seriously...I can relate to this xlcd comic, at least, the "Dear Blog" bit. Well, and the creepy bit too, because sometimes I'm just a bit reluctant to hit on someone.
This is really funny - The Truth About College.
This is awesome:

Alma from Rodrigo Blaas on Vimeo.

Monday, December 21, 2009

This is pretty funny too:

Heh:

Saturday, December 19, 2009

I hate early mornings.

My brain is so fucking bizarre then.

I was going through my bag with the Christmas stuff that I bought at Walgreens, so that I could remember what I bought for a family member for a stocking stuffer. Then I noticed that I still had the boxes of tampons in the bag. You know what my brain thought?

"The tampons are a Christmas gift to my vagina."

Anyone want to switch brains?

Friday, December 18, 2009

Dear People,

Taking the bus to work and back is not a travesty nor a hardship. It's pretty much just get on the fucking bus and pull the cord when it's your stop. If there are marauding rapists on the bus, I've yet to see them rape people on the bus. Don't act like it's the bus to prison. Also, five downtown blocks is not a lot, nor should it be for someone of my age. I'm just out of shape. You do realize that there are many people who have to walk one to two miles to get to a bus stop, and that they're proficient at it. And as for "I wouldn't know how to take a bus", really? See above directions. If the couple from Montana who had no idea where the hell they were going - and shame on their son for not giving them better directions - and still managed to figure out how to ride the bus, I think you could. It's not a mystery.

(I will say, though, now I know why there's instructions on how to ride the bus on the website.)

As for the bus "not being safe", I beg to differ. Most bus drivers have a vested interest in making sure the passengers are safe. Plus, if you ride regularly, they know who you are. That's always been the case anytime I've taken the bus. Plus, I catch the bus downtown. Yeah, it's Christmas, so there's some people about, but really? It's almost a ghost town at 6 pm. And the crazies will leave you alone if you leave them alone.

Seriously, people. The bus isn't as bad as you think it is.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

This video is really funny:

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Ok, so this is cool, too. Silhouettes with sayings, some of the very funny.
This is a really cool short film.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

If you buy anything cheesy for yourself this Christmas, you NEED to buy the Bob Dylan Christmas Album, because it's so spectacularly bad, it's good...or rather, motherfucking hilarious. Preview it, and just try to tell me, you didn't laugh at "Hark the Herald Angels Sing".

Trust me on this.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Crazier than you.

I'm waiting for you to call, because at this point, I'm an ENTIRE CLOTHESLINE to the wind. I'm debating with myself telling you the truth - a harsh truth that only two other people know. It's something easy to mask, in talking with other people and not like having a relationship and stuff. It depends on how far you really want to take this - not far, and you won't know, but far, and you really damn well should. And I won't be offended if you don't sign up for the hell ahead. In fact, if you don't, that's cool with me, because you have to want it to be with me, long-term, caring and whatnot, that's totally awesome, and I don't have to deal with telling anyone.

I don't want to tell you because you might run away, but I wouldn't blame you. Hurt, yeah, but well, such is life. Which is why I don't have long term relationships anymore.

Friday, November 27, 2009

This is hilarious.
Kinda interesting.

The Stars Down to Earth from Reel 13 on Vimeo.

How to be a hipster.

It's a rather amusing article.
I saw this a while ago, but didn't post it here. I really like this video.

Spider from Qoob TV on Vimeo.

It would have been great, to have you there, to protect me from being hit on. You know, if I invite you to join me, it's not necessarily a money thing, you can just order soda, having you there would mean the world to me, and stop creepy men from hitting on me.

But you have a thing about that. And on some level I understand, on many others, I do not. It's not the drinking, it's not the paying for you, it's not anything like that. I do not offer what I cannot afford. And if you're not drinking, they'll pretty much give you a soda for free, especially if it's me we're talking about. But still. It would have been nice if you had been there, more so the company than anything else...but I'm not that important, I see. You have a mental thing that you must follow, and it doesn't factor in that maybe I enjoy spending time with you a great deal, and that I want to spend my free time with you. So I have to deal with it, though I don't want to, and your good friend doesn't understand this, because he doesn't understand a lot of things, this being one of them.

I wanted you to be there, drinking or not, just for the sake of having you there. And that hurts, when you're not there for a reason that's totally dumb. It hurts, and I can't help that, but that helps me get over you, this "smittenness" because nothing ever lasts forever, and well, this will be one of those things. But I know that all good things come to an end, as will whatever we have now, and I'm not dumb about it. It's why I don't want to have relationships, why I don't want "boyfriend" and "girlfriend", why I want to be free to do anything I want. Because then I can put up with the bullshit. Like tonight. Really, I don't care at this point.

I truly give up. It doesn't matter anymore, does it? I can say what I want, but it never erases the thousands of years of conditioning by culture. And for that, I'm jumping off of a bridge and cursing the culture. It would drive me to do this.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Saturday, November 21, 2009

This is a really fucking awesome story.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

I don't know why I dream about you, but I do. I have to fight the feeling to hoard you and not share you with anyone else, such is the way I feel about you, but I know that you have friends and other stuff going on that you need to attend to, and I make myself be patient because I really do want to spend every waking moment with you. I know myself well enough to know that the intensity goes away, so I try not to make a fool of myself, because I just don't want to, again, for the fourth time, evermore. So I'm reserved and cautious, waiting for that moment when the intensity goes away to know how I really feel about you, because there's intensity, and there's what comes after, and well, I'm cautious sort. If it lasts, it lasts, or it doesn't, and I'm trying not to concern myself with it, to think of the moments that I don't want to have, just to steel myself in case it happens, so that I can be a better human being and not do something rash or self-destructive as I'm wont to do.

Friday, November 06, 2009

This will be hilarious.

I think I am "still drunk". And I'm going into work and leaving early.

I will miss Zombie, but only for the week that I'm gone. But I'll be back.

Hopefully.

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

So I'll be off to Seattle in a few days. This will be so much fun.

If nothing goes anywhere with Zombie, I'm okay with that. But at least I'd made a friend to hang out with, to replace the one that's leaving, and in an eerie sort of way.

Anyway, onto new things. Fearless for the future.
I must confess
that it was pure deception
on the part of my eyes
in the corner of my smile
to invite you in
for I had an ulterior motive;
my intentions,
I assure you
were not altogether pure,
but not as licentious
-surprisingly-
as I wanted to be.
All I wanted
was a scent upon my pillow
so that in the lonely night
I could hug my pillow tight
and drift to sleep
with thoughts of you.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

You Stood Me Up.

Call me, then stand me up. It takes a real Zombie to know what a woman likes, and fuck you asshole.

Zombie wins. You don't.

And I would still like to kiss him again!

Monday, October 26, 2009

I want to kiss you again.

Curse that time is too short,
Life is far too long,
That Partner in Crime turned gay,
That I was saddled by Ennui,
And I'm still not sure
How to read you yet.
That challenge, sweet challenge.
I make people laugh
Because I make myself laugh.
Infinite Laughter is better
Than Infinite Tears,
And those have been shed enough.
I wander around, secretly hoping
That I find my lifelong cellmate,
Who knows that my injuries
Are just Flesh Wounds,
That Life is Adventure,
To Live is to tell another Story,
And that I firmly believe
That a beer or a hot shower
Will cure what ails you.

After all of that, I still want to kiss you again.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

This is full of awesome:

Monday, October 19, 2009

I will just say, that I had the best Saturday/Saturday night ever. Really, I did. Even though the film shoot was a lot of waiting around, I got to talk to a bunch of people. It was so much fun.

Who knew that being a zombie was such fucking fun? I didn't know!

Christ, I don't think I can go out drinking again, ever. I don't think I'll have another exceptionally awesome night like that ever again. Now it's just gonna seem damn boring from now on, until I go to Seattle. And then, well, then nothing will be cool.

Photobucket

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Dear Local Grocery Store,

Do you pay the advertising people a lot of money? You might want to rethink that. Because I didn't need to see the word "Porkfest!" on the circular. It does not make me think of food.

Please don't do that again.

Sincerely,
Me

Friday, October 16, 2009

I'm quite sure my downstairs neighbor hates me.

What with all of the fucking music I've been listening to all week. I'm now up to 3400 songs or thereabouts. I can't help it though...music is my friend, has always been there for me when the times were good and when the times were bad. I won't say it's a non-judgemental friend, because music can be downright catty ("Will your lawyer talk to God?"). But still, it's there, and will always be there, no matter the time, place, circumstances.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

I guess, if you're going to do anything, you might as well collect barf bags and create an online gallery of them.
I forgot I had this picture:

Photobucket
Heheh:

chuck
Photobucket
Shared via AddThis

In honor of Saturday.
A Debate With Myself.

Do I tell you that when I was walking up to your house, the first thing I thought was, "Who the hell is that sexy guy in glasses...HOLY SHIT, IT'S YOU!"

Because I thought you were far sexier in your glasses. HOTT, baby, with TWO TTs.

Instead, I remarked upon the fact that you live in the Unfortunate Land of Unfortunate One Ways. Because I'm probably far geekier than you, and I can't let you know that OMFG, GLASSES HOT!

On third thought, I think I will keep that to myself.

Monday, October 12, 2009

We have to
Succumb to
The feelings
we can never face
I need you
I breathe you
I can't go through this all again

Saturday, October 10, 2009

I think I'm gonna call him, but when I actually have time. And yes, it kinda feeds into the Really Stupid Thing that happened last night. I don't regret it, but still, I wish it hadn't happened, because I broke one of the fundamental rules that I made for myself, and that's not cool.

Of course, I have a habit of being far too hard on myself than other people are on me. But yeah, when you start breaking the rules that you made for yourself, it's time to re-examine exactly what's going on.

Although I'm really enjoying calling myself "The Neighborhood Whore". In fact, I'm laughing my ass off just typing it. "Hi, I'm The Neighborhood Whore, what are you into?" (Seriously, I should not be laughing at this, but I am!) Good times, good times.
So I did something entirely stupid.

You know, one of those things where you cringe thinking about it.

Where it's a dumb idea, you know it's a dumb idea, and yet you still go through with it.

I can't wait for Seattle...four more weeks.

Monday, October 05, 2009

I suppose I could look up the score on the football game. But I won't, because I don't care enough to look.

But the yelling and groaning going on over the whole neighborhood is either a good thing or a bad thing.

Saturday, October 03, 2009

Hopefully, I get to be a zombie two weeks from now. Which will be awesome. Zombie!

I have had this weird compulsion to be a zombie for a while. And it just so happens that my friend's band is doing a video, and they are in need of bodies for zombification. So I volunteered to be a zombie.
There's something totally awesome in listening to an American musical about a Paris opera house in the German language.

Plus, the German singers sound like they're familiar with opera, and not just a musical. Which makes the version so much better.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

I am not going to think of you. I am determined not to. It's silly to like you this much. You are a crazy bastard, but that's okay, I've know a few. And the few I've known, well, we were good friends. Partners in crime...

You remind me of someone I used to know, but much better. But really, I'm not going to think of you.

Starting now.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Seriously, I should not have as much fun as I do going through the classic country mp3s. I could pin down exactly why I like them, but that would be to admit something that really should remain a mystery to everyone else, and frankly would be a reason that would reveal my true evil nature.

But that still doesn't mean that I'm not here enjoying this, after the past couple of days that I've been having. Yesterday was pretty bad. It makes me want to buy a screen or something to keep the germ-laden clueless coworker from my cubicle. I know she sneezes all over everything and worse, she'll cough on you. And that's not counting the diarrhea incident that made me want to go home and bleach myself.

And now I'm off to listen to more music.
So I'm going through my mp3 collection of classic country, and "Honky Tonks And You" sounds more like a PSA than a song title. Like, "What You Need To Know About Honky Tonks". Let's see...is that song....?

No, it's not, not that I can see. This song needs to be made. Just like "Audience of One" that I was working on.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

There's one awesome thing I love about the bar I go to, and that's the hilarity that ensues. I had forgotten about a couple of stories from the past few years that were hilarious.

Two of them are from my neice's birthday parties. One year, they had it a gymnastics center. Of course, there was the foam pit. I learned a great lesson that day: fleece sweatpants and foam do not mix. About a billion children were jumping into the pit and bouncing right back out. Looks easy, I thought.

I weighed 180. And I was wearing the aforementioned sweatpants. These factors are important.

I jumped in. That was the easy part. As I tried to get out, however, the fleece stuck to the foam, and I kept sinking. And because I was sinking, it got harder to move. I swear to god, I thought I was never going to get out of that pit, almost to the point where I panicking. THANK GOD FOR FIVE YEAR OLDS. One of them was pushing my ass out of the pit, another threw me a rope, and I managed to escape.

Of course, my brother was standing a few feet away and laughing. Thanks, dear brother.

The second one is the birthday at the Inflatable Things place. Because I was hungover, naturally my younger nephew wanted me to come with him. So I'd help him up the slide and slide down the inflatable slide. Being heavy isn't bad, especially by the end of the party, where I decided to jump at the end of the slide, thereby catapoulting children onto the slide, but they didn't so much as slide as tumble down. At some point though, I was in a bounce house, bouncing around. The hangover hadn't quite worn off yet, and on one particular jump, I tripped a little, and bounced right into the netted wall of the thing - nearly taking it with me, toppling it over. I let out a horrified scream. But the wall bounced me right back to the middle and it remained upright.

The other brother saw that and was laughing. "I wish I had a camera for that!" Thanks, brother. I'm sure you wanted your daughter's party to end with a trip to the ER. That, and I think I need to get new brothers.

The really awesome one was the State Fair story with the mylar. The theme was weddings, and we had a ton of mylar hanging from the ceiling. When we took it down, I grabbed some and then wrapped myself in it. Then I stood on a push cart like I was the Statue of Liberty and my cousin wheeled me around.

I mention it because I think I'm gonna do that for Halloween. Now to get ahold of a big roll of mylar...
I'm really fascinated by projections on buildings. It's really amazing, and I wonder what it's like to see that in person. It's pretty cool.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

I keep thinking about you. Why, I don't know. You are crazy. Gainfully employed, but crazy. I hope you made it okay, I'm a little worried that you might have fallen asleep somewhere and didn't wake up. So maybe I'll text you later. Or not. I don't know.

But anyway, I do hope you call me when you get back. You are hilariously crazy.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Wow.

I got a call. I tried not to lick my phone in excitement.

Now, to call back, and try not to sound very stupid about missing the call at 1 am. I think that's gonna take the better part of a day to think of something that doesn't make me sound like the dork I am.

Oh, but I will call back. I'm determined now.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Today's activity is getting in touch with my inner teenager. Yes, I'm over 30.

Of all the music that I have and that I've lost and stuff...I totally forgot about REM's Green. It was my favorite to play, and I love just about every song on it. I don't know when I lost the CD...but hearing "World Leader Pretend" on not just one but two of my tapes brought it all back.

I am happy that I rediscovered it.

"Dreams they complicate my life"

Who could forget "Stand"? I spent many, many hours listening to that, TMBG, Depeche Mode. Oh, and "You Are Everything"? Awesome song, more like a poem. The only thing that sucks is that Erasure's Crackers International is rare, and no one's got it...so I guess I'll copy it from my brother's collection. I really hope that he still has it, because there's a couple of songs on it that I love.

"The Hardest Part" That song is beautiful. *sings* "That's the hardest part of it all, for you, is to live your life with nothing at all..." As is a particular version of Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence". God, I think about all that music that I listened to when I was a preteen/teen, and I've forgotten those songs, cast aside by shiny newer music, but now it feels more that I've come full circle on it.

All because I lost my iPod, and I can't stand the radio, so I had to resort to tapes. Old tapes, at that. And sometimes the past becomes the future, a younger self talks to the older self, and maybe all we have is memories, but sometimes memories can pave the way for some future better. Reconnection of what was lost or forgotten to the present and to dream in stereo, in color, and to remember who we were and hopefully who we are is a better version.

"This is my world,
And I am the World Leader Pretend.
This is my life, and this is my time,
I have been given the freedom to do as I see fit.
It’s high time I razed the walls that I’ve constructed."
Dear Texan,

I will call you tomorrow. I have decided this, as a last ditch effort, to know if you really wanted to call me or not. Either way, I like you, but if the feeling's not mutual, I'm okay with that. But still.

I like you.

A lot.

And I will call. If nothing comes of it, oh, well, life is like that.

Sincerely,
Me

Friday, September 18, 2009

I need to buy this. I really do.

And I hope, that no matter what happens, fate smiles upon me today, in one way or another. I'm getting really annoyed by disappointment lately, but hopefully it'll pass. I think it has to do with the crappy week that was this week.

And I feel a little lost without my iPod, but I still have tapes. Tapes, in fact, which have music that I haven't listened to in years, and is not on my iPod.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Alone in the Night.

It's the same thing I'll write because I'll write it again and again, and it never stops, this, it just doesn't. A soul to be free, in infinite free, away, not here, wandering, enjoying, having. But not to be. Not this life, not the next, not in a thousand years. Grasping at nothing but the wind and the sky and the clouds, there remains only me, because life is fleeting and ever-changing and now will not be then, and there will be no then of my dreams, just another now. I try to resign myself to this fact, to make myself stop dreaming this, because it is fruitless and insane to think that I am any more than a smile. That I mean any more to a person than just a good luck charm, a worry stone, nothing more nothing less. So my feelings hide deep within me and I guard them as a starved cat would guard their last morsel. I try, but I try too hard, or not enough, and either way, the result's the same, nothing changes, and I'm stuck on the endless loop of traps and wants and needs that are never fulfilled and never will be.

Boring and pathetic, lonely, it matters not the feeling, as they start to become interchangeable, and for a few fleeting moments, a bright spot, I can live, but then, back to the endless drudgery of living, because nothing in my life stays forever, and never will, and that which I have will be gone in a moment's notice, just because, no reason needed. And I'd like to think I choose it this way, but then I dream, and I want that dream so badly, but in my heart I know it will never happen, and my head tries to convince itself that I'm being stupid.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Dear Fate,

If it's not meant to be, I do understand, but don't actively get in my way.

That is all.

Sincerely,

Me

Sunday, September 13, 2009

This is pretty awesome.


Break Dance Stop Motion from ben wheatley on Vimeo.

I do not want to go back to work tomorrow.

I want to run away. Far and wide, anywhere, somewhere, here and there, everywhere, nowhere. Just something different that isn't the same, a little slice of something, of life, of joy, of peace. No more calls, just out in the world to be, to exist as if I was a timeless entity, which is how I feel most of the time, if only anyone would listen. No debt, no indebtedness, no love, no hate, no embarassment, nothing to remind me of anything, because I like not being reminded that I have obligations to attend to, as if the world will collapse if I don't hold it up. Free to be a person in the world, the silent observer, hiding, watching, breathing, living for the fall of a leaf, a blade of grass, a sliver of joy.

Instead, I will go to bed, alone, dream my dreams of other planets, of love, of hate, of magic, and then the buzzer will ring, and I will wake up again, clothe myself, and steel myself for the fresh new hell that awaits me.

Fuck if that doesn't annoy me. Now I'm determined to finish my story, because I think people will read it. And it doesn't remind me of anything.

Fluid Sculpture from Charlie Bucket on Vimeo.



This is really cool. I want to make one now.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Ooo...and here's another video that I'd forgotten about. This is very interesting.

Elephants Dream from Blender Foundation on Vimeo.

Photobucket

Heh.
This is a really cool story.

The Cat Piano from PRA on Vimeo.



More about The Cat Piano here.
Oh. My. God.



Far too funny.

This is really funny:

Cynical Bitch for the Evening.

You said you would call. I chuckled, because from experience, I know it's not true. You did not call, nor would you. That's just how it is. At 31, nearly 32, I am very sure of one fact, and one fact alone: he will never call. And if he does manage to call, it's only for one night, and one night only, and therein is the rub - more ways than one, but the basic point still stands.

No one ever makes time for a bar slut. Of that I do know. It's annoying, in a way, to know that you embody a movie trope, and it will get you laid, but you have be around willing people who want to be laid, who like you as well. Or ply them with beer.

No one will ever truly like you enough to date you; you're just a thing to them, a notch on the bedpost, and in a way, that's comforting to a girl like me, who is terrified of commitment, who hates the word "love", and doesn't really want to be in a relationship. Last time I was in relationships, I got kicked one time, sexually assaulted another, so I'm not fond of the concept. But it's hard, growing up in this society, where you learn that that is want you want, that's what your parents want for you, but it's not necessarily what you want, but you have to humor the old folks. The bitch of it is, they're in nursing homes, not even aware of any of that, and if they are, they don't care one way or another.

I'm always fighting that part of myself that hangs onto my mother, to tell me that I want a husband and children, and the other part, that wants to have a companion and foster kids over 5 years old. I don't want to be pregnant; I'm not willing to have someone's kids. Unless they're forlorn and forgotten; I can sympathize with children who've lost parents to drugs or illness...that is what made Kat awesome. "Oh, you're my new mommy," she said, and of course, I was like, "Hell, no", but in a way I was. Den Mother, or more aptly, I felt better dealing with teens than with toddlers. I don't want to be pregnant, nor do I want children of my own. But the draw is so great - once you get past those years, they grow up so fast. At least, that's what's been promised to me, but I don't see it.

So I call tomorrow - the Texan (a different one!) and the young guy and leave voice mails. Either way, it doesn't matter to me. Call me or not, I know what's going to happen. I'm not naive nor stupid - no one will call me back, which makes the guy in Chicago win with actually continuing to talk to me or text me, though two hours away, and has a hectic schedule. It is worth it.

If guys only knew how simple it was, they wouldn't be such fucking chickens, right? Y'all assholes only have yourself to blame...

updated to reflect clarity, seeing as how I'd had a few drinks with the rosemary rum...it truly is a thing of beauty

Thursday, September 10, 2009

So far, this week hasn't been that bad. It just sucks that I have my exam tomorrow, and I've barely studied for it. I know I'm a fool. I just can't wait for November, when I go to Seattle. That's going to be awesomely fun. If that week is just as fun as this week has been, then hell, it's going to be one hell of a bday.

Wednesday, September 09, 2009

The creepiest game ever. I remember being in tears when I made the alligator worse.

Actually, wait...the one that had me tears was the hippo, because if you do two things in succession, it will throw him into psychosis or something. His eyes get really red and bulgy, and you have to electroshock him. That's the one that had me in tears.
Child-proof

Awesome.
So I emailed the suspicious looking post about the iPod. Hopefully, it's not mine.

The thing is, I am meticulous about keeping records. And mine's laser etched with a particular inscription from a song from a not well-known song by a well-known band. And "well-known" could be arguable, if by "well-known" you mean "known for three songs in the late 80s from their sellout album". The inscription is from the album before that...wait, two albums, if you're a geek with the complete collection like I am, the one before they released the remixes/b-sides.

I've limited my geekery to one band and all of the music associated with the one band. I'm Untergeek, an awesome force.
I was going to write about a whiny screed about a guy I like.

But then, there's StumbleUpon.

I'm glad that my mom raised me right; never tell the police anything. If you're in a room, the two questions you should ask are - where is my lawyer? and Am I arrested?

Revolutionaries. To The Core.

I hope that Young Guy knows this. But they'll get him anyway.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

So I updated a few things on my myspace page. Not a lot, a few tweaks here and there, as well as making it public. I need some new pictures on there, because that was 30 pounds and Mr. Asshat ago.

And by "some", I mean "one in particular". Except I'm not terribly good at taking pictures of myself, I'll have to enlist help. It's one picture that I really want to do, because it sounds totally awesome. I've got a very short red and black beaded skirt, my red thigh highs, black boots, glittery makeup, lacy tank and red fishnet shirt. Oh, and a red glittery cape. Actually, it's what I'm thinking of wearing for Halloween, if it's not too cold to wear the skirt, because that fucker's freeze-your-ass-off short.

Oh well, we'll see.

Monday, September 07, 2009

Ah, breakfast. My favorite meal of the day. I sometimes make elaborate creations, because nothing is more awesome than starting your day with yum.

One that I like that isn't necessarily breakfasty is black bean soup with poached eggs. Today, though, I used the curried noodles I made last night and threw two fried eggs on them. Pleasant and yummy, slightly spicy but doesn't burn your taste buds clear off your tongue.

I share my dad's love of non-meat-and-potatoes food. That's not to mean that I don't enjoy a good steak every now and again. And I'm very fond of spicy...why I dated two guys who hated spicy is a mystery I'll never solve. It's just not the same if you have to add hot sauce to the chili after it's done cooking.

(Heh, on a side note, when ExFiancee first had chili over at our house, he damn near died. The three of us were looking at him like "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" and he managed to squeak out that it was too hot. From that day forward, my mom set a non-spicy bowl aside for him, while the rest of us waited the extra minutes for the "normal" stuff. He learned to ask, "Is this spicy?" before sampling anything potentially spicy in our house. Because "too spicy" in our house was that your mouth went numb and you couldn't taste anything for three days. And then I managed to date someone again who couldn't handle spicy. BAH, I say. It's just not the same without Sriracha. Tabasco's for people who have no taste buds and want to burn them off anyway in a vinegary solution.)

But now that I'm thinking about it, we never really salted anything in our house. We used garlic, ginger, other spices, hot sauce...but never really salt. My mom didn't believe in it. I mean, I may add a pinch here or there, but that's more than my mom would do. (I'd sometimes sneak into the kitchen, take a taste, and throw in a pinch if it needed it.) I watch the Food Network, and my mouth curls at the sheer amount of salt they put in things. You don't need to put salt into scrambled eggs, they're fine on their own. Cook 'em in butter if you want a lot of flavor.

And this whole long-winded thing got started because since I have time on my hands, I'll make myself elaborate breakfasts. The thing is, I'm also really lazy. The dishes are piling up, and I'm far too lazy to put them in the dishwasher. And then I won't feel like making anything because then I'll have to try to make something on a crowded counter. Which means then I'll sit around and debate with myself on whether I should go get something, but that would require dressing, and I'm too lazy to get dressed, but I'm really hungry...and oh look! There's a power bar! That'll hold me for another hour or two!

I wouldn't win a gold medal for laziness, but I still get lazy every now and again.
Dear Fate,

You suck. I mean that. Really, really, really suck. I was looking forward to a lovely five days without idiots on my phone, to lay around, play video games, go out drinking during the week.

But no. I had to wake up this morning feeling like crap. That I'm coughing and I can feel the giant snot weasel that must have crawled into my lungs during the night and made itself at home, utterly happy to coat the inside of my respiratory system with mucous.

Thanks, Fate. And by "Thanks", I mean "Fuck You".

Sincerely,
Me

Sunday, September 06, 2009

I find it funny, the pity party. I'm quite good at it, which is why I don't date people, because no one wants to be a witness to that kind of thing.

What goes on in my head, and my feelings, are mine alone, jealously guarded, never meant to the see the light of day. And I throw the pity party only because I share my feelings with people - in this case, a text that really isn't strange or bizarre or anything, and perfectly reasonable. But it threw me off the deep end, only because I shouldn't have said anything at all. That's me, oddly enough, that when I share my feelings and thinkings, I've just threatened myself into depression. I'm out of my comfort zone when I talk about my feelings and stuff. I'm far more comfortable talking about things and concepts that don't directly relate to me. I can talk about music, going to college, food...but not my feelings. In my head, when I do manage to say something, my brain starts blah-ing, like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon. "Wahwah wah wahwah." Often, if I start talking about it, my mind will suddenly stop working. My super awesome memory becomes fuzzy, and it's like I'm not there, not really, and my brain tries to occupy a different corner of my brain, and I never remember what I say, because I don't want to remember that I said anything, because I wasn't supposed to say anything, at least not aloud, and who the fuck wants to really hear how I feel, because it's boring and mundane, and no one cares, even if they were the ones that asked.

When I got my hair done, she asked me about my mom. I don't remember the conversation, because suddenly I wasn't in my brain anymore. It's kind of scary when I think about it, because I'm the person that recall exactly word for word a conversation about something that I had four years ago, but when it comes to feelings, I don't remember. I don't want to. I don't know why I do this.

I'd love to seek help for this, but I don't think I can. First, I'd need to be able to talk to a stranger about it, and I can't. Well, okay, I'm telling the internet, but the internet is different. I expect that the internet is going to be a douchebag and laugh at my emo-riffic screeds. But actual people and face-to-face? I can't. But leaving that aside, it's the feeling I get when talking about it that I hate and would rather avoid. I'd like to stay in my brain please.

This is why I pretend that I'm the happiest person in the world. It's not that anyone's really going to know any different, and most people don't care enough to scratch the surface. They've got other things to worry about, other things to think about. Everyone always forgets about me, because I'm not the center of the universe, and I don't fight for attention.

So I think the answer is yes, I am insufferable.

Saturday, September 05, 2009

It's the full on pity party.

If I'm going to put on the pity party, I might as well go full total pity.

I put it on.

The eulogy.

That my mother recorded.

Before she died.

Because I told her she wasn't going to live.

It was a simpler time. I used to have love in my hands, you know. Now, it slips through fingers, ungraspable, and will never be again.

I never believed in that "one love" thing, but sometimes I do now, because I let it get away from me. The choices were "my soul" and "marriage", and I foolishly chose my soul. I suppose I will never have the happiness I seek, a person to share my dreams with, because the dream is dead, and has been, for so long. I give up. With every guy I meet, it's the same thing, will always be the same thing, will never be anything different. It will never be. I will never find the peace that I so desperately crave, because I crave it. It will never come.

It doesn't matter the choices I make, the prayers I pray, nothing. Nothing changes. It's always the same, and I want run away. From myself, the world, everything. I try so hard, I try so little, and it doesn't make a fucking difference, and I'm realizing, it never will.

"You are all the most important persons in my life"

Stained with tears, the CD won't even play. And now, Fuck You, Fate. I know you hate me. I even fail at having a pity party.

The world can end now. I'm too chicken to commit suicide.
I have the strangest dreams.

There were four of us, two standing on one side of the couch, and two others standing on the other side, all dressed in 1950s fashion, and I was a guy. Except I kept falling off of the edge of the couch, and it was couch-like, in that it looked like a couch but we were standing on it, not sitting. Not your ordinary couch, more like an M.C. Escher couch. I was holding on for dear life. And the other people just kept talking, and when they noticed I was hanging on for dear life, they just laughed. They had no problem with standing on the couch.

I finally woke up and ended that dream.

On side note, I rarely dream that I'm a guy, but when I do, I'm always in some 1950s fashion. Pants, sweater vest, pipe one time. This time it was a suit. I have no idea why my brain likes to link the two.

Friday, September 04, 2009

I keep finding really funny shit. Like this. I'm just too lazy to put the pic on my blog.

On a side note, I hope that life looks nicely upon me for once. I doubt it, but a change might pleasant.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

Alright, so this is funny too.

But I hate it when the pictures don't have context. Is this from a contest? Some random person? Someone trying to make a point?

Why the hell do people do this?
This is really funny.
No fucking idea what show it's from, but it's hilarious:

I think a lot. It takes up most of my day.

I think about the strange timing of things, the bizarre coincidences that happen, things like that. I know that pretty much it probably doesn't mean anything, but still...my timing is all strange. Twice, now, there have been times where I just went to the bar to have a few drinks, not meet anyone - like I was going to anyway, at that bar! - on a random day on the weekend, and I've met guys.

The thing is, every time I think about how I really do want a relationship, my brain points me to the reality of having a relationship. All those times, the stupid fights, the compromises I'm uncomfortable with, being vulnerable.

I am terrified of commitment. I feel myself cringe at the word "girlfriend" now. It truly is a terrifying concept. Which is so, so hard for me. I want to give my heart to someone, and I'm rather generous with love, but I don't want to be taken advantage of ever. I fear that for myself, and rightly so. My mother was always afraid that would happen to me, and there was a time where I saw it too, and ever since then, I've been very cautious, because I have to be. In that way, the terrorism of childhood that I experienced helps me to be cautious and cynical of other people's motives. My first nature is to be loving, my second nature is to be hopelessly cynical. And yes, I will be cynical to the point of ridiculousness, and will use it as both a defense and a weapon, but in the long run, it is what keeps my heart safe - from disappointments, from heartbreak, from self-pity.

There are a few of us in the world who would gladly give up a loaf of bread and jar of jelly to starving man, because he says he is starving. I am one of those people. I will buy cans of organic soup and organic beans and organic pasta, because why shouldn't a poor person have the same access to food that I do? We all should have healthcare, single payer, because then we're free to move from job to job, go in when we need to, and not worry about how cancer is going to cost us - or even that creak in the knee that we really should get checked out, but don't, because we've got a high deductible.

I used to take solace in going to church, but I don't any more. I can't. It's become too political, too strict, too suffocating. People will go to church and say their magic prayers for money and love and acceptance, but ignore everything else. Those parts of the bible that require you to forgive debt against your brother, to turn the other cheek, to stand up to injustice and inequality, to help the poorest of the brethren of mankind. To realize that you can aspire to be holy, and you'll probably fail here and there, but to forgive yourself for your failure as you forgive others, and continue on to be the best human that you can. This, all of this, I realized at 15. I give my pain and suffering to God, the worst parts of pain and the endless suffering and victimhood, to God, because God can take it. I want it to go. And if it begins anew, I give it to God again, because there's only so much a person can handle. I'm not into God for the moral judgment and slut shaming and superiority, I'm in it because in the worst hour, God was there for me when no one else was. I try not to let those fuckers who want power take my faith from me, but it's hard sometimes. And somewhere along the way, I got disgusted with it.

But this big heart I have, that's full of faith and love, is at odds with things like commitment and obligation, and worst of all, people's perceptions of me. I like to know what people think of me, because it sometimes produces hilarious results. Mr. Asshat, ExFiancee, my mom...everyone else as well. I don't open up a lot, for the reason that people will form wild-ass opinions about me whether I say anything or not. And again, it was interesting having "spies" tell me about what The Terrorists were saying about me. So far, throughout my lifetime, I've gotten:

- I'm total slut who sleeps with anyone.
- I'm a complete psycho.
- I'm extremely pure, sweet and innocent.
- I'm a complete bitch who will beat you up.
- I'm a lesbian.
- I'm totally a judgmental privileged preppy.
- I hate men.
- I'm a total prude.
- I am naive.
- I know everything.

The truth? I'm just a standard person, with faults, failures, successes, and hopes and dreams. In my world - what I truly believe - is that we are all standard people. Sure, we have differences, which makes life enjoyable/interesting or soul sucking/boring, but really, we're interchangeable to each other.

Maybe that's why I don't like the term "girlfriend". That's really putting me into a box that will never fit me. I'm a person, not defined by other people. Influenced, yes, but not defined.

And now I have to go to work. That really sucks.

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

The nephew turns 5.

This child and I get along well. It's kind of eerie how well we get along. I am amazed. He does a lot of talking. At 3, when I took him to the mall, he suddenly sat down on the floor, and refused to move. No temper tantrum, no screaming, but a ten minute discussion on how we were going to leave, and that he could come back to the mall later, and how it would be more fun to leave if we pretend we were swimming back to the car. And the pain! The child comes up with so many ways for "his guys" to die, it's really amusing and disturbing at the same time. The whole elaborate setup of "guys" and ways they have to die.

(I really wonder where he gets this. He really doesn't watch anything too violent. One wonders if it's all Oswald and Pinky Dinky Doo.)

But anyway, he starts school soon. And it will be hilarious, I bet. He's very cautious around strangers. He has to observe first, then go ahead.

I can't wait to hear it.

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

I do hope that you call me again, and that it wasn't just a one time thing.

She said, "I think he likes you. But he's also a heartbreaker."

Inside, I nearly died laughing.

First, I would have to be in love for that kind of thing to even happen, and I'm not. Love is for other people who aren't me. Second, unless he sexually assaults me, beats me, or isn't respectful enough to be honest with me, there isn't much one can do to break my heart. All three of these things are not just crimes against my person, they're crimes against my soul. I'm a really tough bitch, but a fair one, and I'm a resilient creature. Life is so fucking short, I'm not about to waste it. I mean, yeah, sometimes I do with all the whining about not having a boyfriend, but it's just pity party whining and well, people sometimes feel sorry for themselves. But in my day-to-day life, the nitty-gritty of it, I just don't care.

But this makes me think of something larger that I've been mulling over. I can't really open up and be myself unless I drink. I try to sober, but I have to get to know someone enough to be comfortable doing that. And even then, I can't. I just can't. There are things that I just can never talk about ever. I can write about it, pages and screeds and a thousand words, but I just can't talk about it. Or, rather, the circle of people that I can talk about it with is getting smaller, and it irritates me. So instead I write, because I can, because that's all that I have left. Paper and pen have never let me down. Neither has the computer. And in writing that out, it almost makes me want to cry, because that's a bit pathetic, isn't it? That I'm trapped in a verbal world when all I can do is write.

Of course, she also said, "Christ! You're wearing Crocs!" like it was the most offensive thing in the universe. Which made me laugh. Hard. "Yeah, well, it's Sunday, and I'm walking around. I want to be comfortable," I replied, which is true. "I'm not going to wear high heels when I'm walking about." "You wear high heels?" "DUH! I'm short. Of course I wear heels, the higher, the better."

Really, I'm a classy broad. But Sunday is for milling about.

And I still hope that he calls again. And I think I'm going to stop writing right now, before I annoy myself with my pathetic ramblings.

Friday, August 21, 2009

You know, I'm a nice person. I give people the benefit of the doubt. I say it's okay, when it sometimes really isn't, just because it's not fair to hang my shit on other people.

You would have thought that my cousin, us being peas in a pod, practically grew up together as sisters, laughed through horrible boyfriends and failed engagements, supported each other, would at least, at some point during the week, at least fucking text me herself that she had gotten engaged last weekend.

I mean, it's really no surprise. They had wanted to get married before the baby came but didn't. Now that things have calmed down some for them, they're getting married. But he formally proposed to her, and nary a word? Do I really mean that little? And I could care less if I'm not the maid of honor, because that shit doesn't matter to me...I mean, I'd be honored, but I'm not going to expect it or make a fuss out something like that, because in the long run, she's still my cousin, and I'll love her dearly no matter what, and I'm really happy for her.

I'd just like to hear it from her, y'know?

Monday, August 17, 2009

So I put a new air freshener in yesterday. This scent is a little odd. It reminds me of something, and I've been pondering exactly what the scent reminds me of. I'm sure it's unrelated to what was on the package, but I wouldn't know for sure because I threw it out after I got the air freshener plugged in. It's a bit...odd smelling.

You know how there's that candy at the register at Walgreens? That rather odd-smelling candy labeled "Violet"? I happen to LOVE that candy. It's a delicious cross between chalky soap and violet. It's totally awesome. I've only met one other person who loves that candy as well.

The air freshener stuff kinda smells like that. Well, like soapy, but not violet. It's close, but not quite. Like if they made chalky tropical soap, then this would be the smell.

Not quite sure if I like or not.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

"So, when are you moving down here? I can't wait!"

*sighs*

I love my brother, I really do. And it would be nice to move to somewhere where there's a coffee shop open late and you get a good a latte and sit by the window and write, even if there's no smoking. It would be nice to find a nice place and be able to make dinner for four and not have leftovers that you won't eat.

But I'd need to find a job there. Also, not cheap to live there. And I'd have to find a place as large as what I have, and I doubt I will ever luck into the deal I got for where I live. Or maybe I would. I'm really not an impulsive person. But when I think about what moving entails, I just get tired. I would have to pack up all of my shit and have it moved. I don't know if I really want to do that yet.

At the same time, though, the last of my friends will be moving out of the city. And yeah, the rest of the family's here, and I love the nephews lots, but they're all getting older, and it's been a few years since Gabrielle. I just don't know. I want a change of pace, to get out of here, since everything's turned boring and the only thing you can do late at night is go to Webb's or a bar or just drive around. This place has changed, and it's not as exciting or awesome as it used to be.

I really do want to run away. But that clashes with my unwillingness to change stuff. And I'd like to not worry about money as much as I do, although I probably shouldn't, because I'm really good with money.

*sigh*

At some point, dear brother, at some point.
This is awesome:


Metallica - Enter Sandman on Kazoo - Witzig - MyVideo

And another one that's funny:

Metallica Fan x)) - MyVideo

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

My plans for tomorrow at State Fair:

1) Eat.

2) Get new toe rings.

3) Go on the giant slide and The Zipper, if it's there. Possibly tilt a whirl too.

I haven't gone on rides in years. Time to have a little fun!
So I've been reading a lot about Pick Up Assholes Artists. There's not a lot that really makes me lose faith in humanity, really, even though I know people out there in the world can be total fuckwads.

You know, society would be better off if we regarded everyone as people. Men, women, children, whatever ethnicity. The generality, a base common assumption, that everyone is person with hopes/dreams/anxieties/fears, and that it's different for every person. Occasionally, you meet a person who is stereotypical of the group that they're in, but for the most part, there isn't a stereotypical person.

And further, you don't get confidence by being arrogant nor by saying any magic lines to get chicks. Your +5 spell of "neg" is not going to really warm women up to you. And for the women it does work on, well, don't complain that you suddenly have a girlfriend with baggage...because she's got low self-esteem for it work on her. Women are not pussy vending machines, and any female person who has internalized that line of thought will have emotional problems. And I really have no sympathy for the whiners who "have trouble meeting women" or "get nervous around a girl (!) they like". You know, it works that way for us too. We get nervous and have trouble meeting men. (See: Any one of my million posts in which I whine that I can't get laid/find a man.) Of course, we have that extra "will he respect a 'no'?" layer to contend with.

Women, just like guys, get nervous meeting new people, loose any sense of English when they're around people that they like, and say stupid and/or embarrassing things that they didn't mean to. Dudes: we're people, not Vaginators with legs. My cunt isn't going to bite your precious penis off. If you fear my vagina, perhaps you are not heterosexual. And a good portion of us like to take swings on the skinpole, some all time, others every once in a while. (Of course, I'm excluding those women for which a skinpole is not an attraction.)

The hard part of it is the status guys. I think they are the most sad of all. They try to fuck as many "hot" women as they can, with "hot" meaning "what other people find hot". They have no desires or wills of their own, and their self-worth is tied up in objects that other people are supposed to crave. If "fat chicks" suddenly became the "in" thing to do, they'd be hitting on "fat chicks". I wonder if they even truly enjoy having sex - sex just for the sake of having sex. The concept that you have sex to "score" is so alien to me - I mean, yeah, I joke about it, but I never really mean it. Bedpost notching just seems so...unfun, like work. "Well, Bob's got five more than me, guess I better get cracking." Christ, now that I think about it, it really sounds like drudgery. Like the women whose sole goal is get "a husband". It's like there's a group of people who somehow have been led to believe that there's a store or something in which they can get theses objects (not people!) that they desire. "Fine Furniture and Husbands" or "Ye Olde Collectible Women Shoppe" or something like that, with signs that say, "Please do not lean on the display case" or "You break it, you buy it" or "Feel free to talk to our knowledgeable staff" or "Please see an associate for details".

(For the record, next time I'm in a bar, and someone is encroaching on my personal space, I think I'm going to have trouble not thinking, "Please do not lean on the display. Thanks!")

I can't imagine living in a world where sex is just another bodily function - like peeing - that has to be taken care of. It must really suck to be that person. I mean, it's fun! And stress-relieving! Well, so is masturbation, but honestly? Sex is way more fun. I mean, yeah, a person can get a little cranky when they're horny (or maybe it's just me), but you won't die without sex.

But then again, I'm a person, and I have sex with people. I want to, one day, have a relationship with a person. It's all about treating people as people and not as sex toys and furniture. I seriously don't understand why it's really hard for people not to get that.

Sunday, August 09, 2009

So, I've read a few things off of Fuck My Life, and some are kinda funny, others just seem so obviously over the top. It's okay, but not totally hilarious.

Oh, but My Life Is Average is really, really, really funny. There are some really funny stories there.

I dunno why I find one more funny than the other...maybe it's just my sense of humor. I like to find humor in the mundane, primarily because the best or the worst rarely happens, and it's sometimes those little moments that are waaaay too funny.

Take yesterday, when I was at State Fair. One the vendors had a video playing of the product, and the word "Büff" came on the screen. I was thinking, What the hell is that? "Bueff?" I turned to my friend and said, "That guy is really bueff." It was very funny. Then, the creaky wheels in my head started, and I managed to say it in German: "Er sieht sehr Büff", just for the silly factor. But then we came up to the "Teeth Whitening" booth, and were terrified by the setup that looked rather sinister.

Life doesn't have to be awesome every moment, but sometimes, it's the little stuff that will get you.

Saturday, August 08, 2009

You know, life would be far easier if I didn't keep thinking of fucking. Really, it would be easier, because these thoughts occur at precisely the wrong moments. Ah, Life...you suck.
This is really beautiful. It's a collaberation between Disney and Dali. As simple as it is, I think it's very interesting. I'm a bit of a sucker for surrealism anyway, but that animation was very awesome.
Wow:



I want to see this in person!
Just when I was feeling a bit down, work was boring, total idiots calling in, and brooding over my inability to meet anyone, let alone date them enough to have a boyfriend...

"Auntie, you are so smart! And you make new things that are fun and cool!"

*gushes*

Aw, who the hell needs a boyfriend when you have the adulation of a five year old nephew?

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

So I'm back to exercising early in the morning again. I'm tired of feeling like crap and totally unmotivated when I come home. With the whole wisdom teeth debacle, it's been rather sucky...even suckier since now I owe more money. GAH. And I really love my teeth, because as soon as I say, "Oh, everything's fine" it starts hurting. Of course, it would help if I didn't clench my jaw when I'm stressed.

I'm afraid I'm gonna fail yet another insurance course. Do I really want to do this?

Oh, well.

At least State Fair starts this week. I will completely enjoy my cream puff. And I'm gonna go on the giant slide...the last time I did that was with The Ham, my youngest nephew, and that was very, very funny. He's a daredevil, but only if you go with him, because he doesn't want to do it alone.

If I ever win the lottery, and I buy a house, I'm also buying a bounce house - it really doesn't matter how old you are, it's still fun. Fuck trampolines - I get terrors just standing one, because I can easily see myself falling off of it. Plus, it's not as colorful or awesome. Heh, I'm laughing, imagining it now, inviting friends over for drinks and jumping around in a bounce house. That sounds positively awesome and dangerous.

And come to think of it, I'm totally a sucker for giant slides. I think I completely amused Mr. Asshat when I went on the giant inflatable Titanic slide at our company party. Even better was that I did it TWICE. (He took pictures both times.) My family was laughing at me the year my niece had her birthday at one of those places that had inflatable things - 20 children and then me on the inflatable slide. Of course, the aforementioned "daredevil" didn't want to do it alone, so I went with him. I got tired (nothing like nursing a low-level hangover at a children's party!) and his mother decided to take over. At the end, she and I were jumping at the end of the slide, making it wobbly and practically catapulting children onto the slide. It was awesome.

Ooooo...maybe I should do some rides this year at State Fair. That would be fun! *sighs* I remember all those years I worked there, and my lunch break would consist of rides, run and get some tempura from the tempura cart, and then go back to work. And I managed to loose weight in summer. Those were the days...

Saturday, August 01, 2009

So up comes a post on making ketchup.

I tried it once. Yes, it was REALLY good. My god, Mr. Asshat and I couldn't stop eating it. Of course, he really, really loves ketchup. Like in the "put six packets of ketchup on my cheeseburger then dip my burger in the gigantic pool of ketchup on my plate which will have to be replenished when I get to my fries" kinda way. He ended up eating most of it, but that doesn't take away the fact that it was awesome.

Except it's fucking work to make it. I'd rather just buy a bottle of it. And it's not like I'm a lazy cook or anything - I can make some spectacular foods. (Just give me a slab of tenderloin and it's on!) It's just more work than necessary for a condiment that I don't eat a lot of anyway. And what bring me to actually comment on it is that the post that I was reading was like, "Oh, it's so awesome!" Yeah, if you really want to go that far. Good, yes. Spectacular? No.

I think that's going to be my measure on if I want to date a guy from now on. "Would I willingly make ketchup for this guy? No? Eh, I'll date him for six months, tops!"

Of course, I express love by food. Biscuits and gravy? A friend. Tenderloin? Best friend. Potato pancakes? Someone who's willing to marry me. The bar's pretty high for that one because frying six thousand pancakes from one batch takes fucking forever. It's a situation of either "Had a hand in my conception" or "Will marry me". ExFiancee still asks me to make them in payment for computer services. Hell, my mother would beg me to make them. I won't even get started on the potato dumplings..."You know how I gave birth to you? It would be really nice if you made some dumplings..."

The only reason this was so was because I really like to cook. I don't mind time intensive food every once in a while. And my mother was very impatient with cooking. If she couldn't stick it in the oven and let it go for a bit while she watched TV and had a cigarette, well, fuck it.

And then there was Martha Stewart. My mother, the impatient cook, tried many recipes. There were a few times that I took over because she was getting frustrated with how looooong the recipes took. "But it didn't take her that long! It looked really easy!" she'd say. "Mom," I'd reply, "she's got a kitchen staff, and through the magic of television, they edit the 40 minutes of fiddly out. Of course it looked easy, that's the point." (Two cases in point: Fruit served in candied grapefruit shells, which did turn out awesome but took something like 5 hours and coated the kitchen in sugar, and the ganache covered pecan pie that was sprinkled with booze and took forever to bake. I helped with the grapefruit, but the pie was all her, in the hopes that not helping her would curb this silliness.)

And now, I've managed to make myself hungry.

Friday, July 31, 2009

Not a full moon.

So why did I get a ton of idiots on my phone today? I was ready to bitchslap SOMEONE. Not to mention my computer didn't want to work, I was ready to beat the shit out of it and throw it out the window.

At least I have a big book of baby animal pictures at my desk. Ducklings will kick your ass!

And it's also, in a way, comforting to know that I'm not the only person in the universe plagued with bad timing.
I'm still mad at last week.

It's now the running joke in my department, though, about one nasty person I got on my phone. Normally, when people are nasty, they are just frustrated with something like the process or the decisions that we've come to. It's rarely ever personal and I treat it as such because I understand that they're not mad at me.

Oh, but last week it was personal. "I don't have this problem with everyone else, just you." I was speechless, only because I was doing my job according to our procedures. I wasn't doing anything different than anyone else was doing, considering we all work with the same guidelines. I had to be silent, otherwise I would have said, "Are you implying that my coworkers are not doing their job? Because that's what I think you just said." I didn't say that though, and now I live in terror of getting this person because I might say non-department approved things like, "Oh, let me transfer you to someone else" once the person gives me their name or "I don't take kindly to people implying that my coworkers don't work" or something rather snarky.

Which, of course, leaves out the fact that the person doesn't call us prepared with the information that we need. We need certain information, and if don't have it, we can't help the person. Most people understand this, and take notes as to what information we need and call back. I wonder what makes Snowflake think it's any different for them?

I need a new job.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

I really, really need to get this.

Luckily, I live in a neighborhood where I don't have to worry about my car.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

In thinking about last night's nightmare, I really do have some freakish nightmares.

One that happens every now and again is a dream where I'm schizophrenic. Voices, craziness, it's all there, and terrifyingly real. I think the best (or worst) part of the dreams is that all of the furniture is on the ceiling. Seriously. It always starts out with me coming home and finding that everything is on the ceiling, in the exact same place it would be if it was on the floor. I have no idea why my brain equates mental illness with furniture on the ceiling. Of course, that terrifies me, and then I hear people whispering but there's no one else there.

I think the saddest one was the one where I was dead, but I didn't know I was dead until the end, and from what I was looking at, there wasn't any reason I was dead. It was so strange. It's also nice to know that your brand loyalty to Sears will show up in your dream. Because that's who was using the jaws of life thingy to cut me and the other person out of our not damaged and perfect cars. My mind makes some really strange associations.

Ones with my mother in them aren't so much as nightmares but they're really surreal. Like I was getting married in a church, and it was the recessional, we turned around and I saw her. She was in the dress that she wore to my older brother's wedding. I started running down the aisle yelling "Mom!", but she kept moving farther away until I got to the back and she just vanished. And then my great-aunt touched my arm and said, "I saw her too."

The megachurch dream was outright strange, had the feeling of a nightmare but it kinda wasn't. Honestly, it's why I can't go to church anymore. I'm wondering if black-clad figures will show up to drag me out.

You know what though? I'll take middle management penguins over death, schizophrenia, and church any day.
The Stuff of Nightmares.

"It's just us two here," she said in a very menacing tone. This will not go well. I studied her, for if my ass is to be kicked, I'd like to know who it's kicked by. And she looked a lot like me, our eyes were similar, her hair brown, but she was far more overweight than I was. Perhaps I had a chance.

"You have no chance. I will win. I always win. And you deserved to be punished, you bitch. You can't escape me."

She took a swing at me, and I was able to avoid it, but then she managed to grab me and punch. I tried to block her but she seemed to know where to hit. I looked at her face, twisted in anger and cruelty, hurtful, hateful words dripping from her lips.

But that was it. That was the only opening, the only way. I reached out and grabbed her cheeck, and with all of my might, squeezed it in my fist...

And I woke up in PAIN. And now I have this really nice scratch on my face, because I was sleeping on my hand.

Friday, July 24, 2009

I have learned a very important life lesson: never put your used dust rags on your hardwood floors, and if you do, don't throw them in front of your bathroom, and if you manage to do that, don't wear socks. I really hope I get through this morning without breaking anything, because I'm not in the mood to spend time at an ER.

Thank god I'm a klutz and have stubbed my toe many a time, otherwise it probably would have hurt more.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

So I'm on a mission to reorganize my life. Or, rather, buy lots of awesome shit to distract myself with.

I like to shop. It's one of those strange things I picked up from my mother. I like to look, to think, and imagine if I could use whatever item I'm holding. Which makes shopping with me damn near impossible, because I will look AT EVERYTHING, much to the annoyance of my family. (Except my dad, of course. He put up with my mom shopping. Well, and my cousin.)

I really miss her in those moments. Picking something up and saying, "Do I really need this/can I really use this?" The answer isn't always "yes". The key to shopping is really that question, the notion that you could look at something and not buy it. I also miss the marathon shopping trips. Those were so much fun.

It's times like these that I realize that I'm not a completely impulsive shopper. I carefully research things and will buy something if I can use it. On the downside of this, it can get expensive. But I'm aware of that, and rarely go above the budget that I set for myself. If I over spend, I don't over spend by a lot. And though I have a high credit card limit, I make sure that I don't go over a certain amount.

I suppose writing this out makes me feel better about my next major purchase: a PS2.

I am such a nut.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

I think I'm gonna do it.

I will probably be mocked mercilessly by friends, and I'm very sure that men will run screaming when they see it. But you see, I have to put something on my wall. It looks a bit bare. And it's really the only thing I have to put on the wall.

Ok, I could go out and buy something more tasteful that doesn't scream "total dork", but I've only had the poster for years, and I'd kinda like to display it.

Just not in my living room. That would be bad. Besides, I have the masks and family pictures there. And the Star Trek Pez dispensers. And the Darth Maul mug.

The Darth Maul figurine is in the bedroom...why not put up the Darth Maul poster I have? It's not like I have a shrine to Darth Maul, mostly because it would be obvious then. I'll mitigate any dorkiness by adding the "Women of Science" poster...oh, wait.

I'm screwed, aren't I?
One of the most interesting things about Clueless is that she is extremely gullible. I mean, to the point that it's painful to watch her get suckered because it's blatantly obvious that she's being played. Of course, I say nothing, because it won't change her mind - she'll repeat it as fact.

So someone sent her a news story about how Obama's plan will outlaw private insurance. That claim seems dubious at best, probably an outright lie at worst. There wasn't a link to any kind of proposal or anything that would provide evidence for this claim.

But something about the website triggered something. I'd heard of that publication before but I couldn't pin down from where. Of course, we were busy, and I forgot to look it up while at work, so I looked it up this morning.

When the "Left" viewpoint includes the extremely delusional Richard Cohen, it's a right-wing conservative propaganda machine. And then it clicked - Sadly, No! That's where I knew it from, the delicious mocking of wingnuts.

I might try to explain it to her, and let her know that it's probably just an opinion piece that has no relation to things like reality or facts, but she probably won't believe me.

She is one of those people for whom the motto "If I saw it on the internet, it must be true" applies. I don't know how she's survived this long.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Oh, and this is brilliant:



This one was really funny as well, I keep laughing hard at it:



"Thin Ice"...too funny:

*sigh*

I am a wuss. Despite years of trying to be a fearless badass, I cannot be.

I could send a friendly text of interest. I intend to at some point, but hell, I just really don't want be known as That Girl. You know the one, the strange obsessive one that everyone finds annoying.

And I realize it's probably because I do think about it a lot, which makes me feel obsessive, without actually doing anything about it.

But I suppose if I am forgotten about, I'd deserve it for being such a wuss. Life, you suck. Why do you continually plague me with bad timing?

*sigh* I'll send it anyway. At least I have things to look forward to this weekend.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

So I was thinking again, this time about dreams.

I woke up from today's dream, not remembering much about it. It was very strange, at least, that was the impression I got.

I was dating someone, but I don't remember who or what his name was. In this dream, I was talking to a friend of his, and his friend said in response to something I said (which I don't remember), "Yeah, well, what do you expect, when all he dates are Muppets?"

Really, that's all I remember, because I woke up then. But then I was reading a comment on a blog, and something clicked. Something about a dream that I have periodically; the characters change but the feelings and such stay the same. I've dreamed that dream with people that I've been seriously involved with, but it started out about a crush I had when I was far younger. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it's same internalized hopes and fears that I've always had, like the little girl who first dreamed it is still stuck inside my head. Not about marriage, but about relationships. But until this moment, I didn't realize I had had the same exact dream about guys that I was seriously interested in. And maybe that's my problem, that there's this dream that stays in my head convincing me that these are the only people for me, when really, they're not. I suppose that I could use that as a clue - if I dream this dream, then perhaps it is time to back out of the relationship, just be friends or cut ties, and move on. I mean, this dream has such a strong pull that I've stayed in quasi-relationships/relationships against my better judgment.

Perhaps it's time I dreamed a new a dream. Something different.

But in a way I have, with the dream about a guy I have never met. It started a couple of years ago, this dream, and I have this dream every so often, and it makes me sad, because I really don't think I'd ever attract someone like this nor have a relationship with them. He's a person that understands me, is a lot like me, actually, though not exactly. He finds my bizarreness quite endearing and actually listens to me. We can talk about stuff, anything, really. He's got a fairly large group of friends, who are, for the most part, nice, but he really enjoys my company. Dark hair, dark eyes, and seemingly mysterious, but not really. He'd laugh at my thought of me sitting and smoking at the bar, in my "thinking and smoking pose" and would get the thought behind "bar noir" and actually find it funny. He'd be as mischievous as I, and we could be mischievous together. Wouldn't mind my random singing of songs, or the habit I have of bursting out into song if a situation reminds me of a particular lyric, or just making up a song because I'm bored. (I still do that. It will never be as epic as the Mr. McFeely musical, but then again, more than one person was involved with it.) He understands that I need my space and that we don't have to do everything together, he's got his hobbies and stuff and doesn't whine when I don't want to go to something in particular and he is okay with going alone, and he's fine with me doing stuff without him and doesn't need to be with me every singe moment of free time I have. He's okay with "no" and doesn't get uptight or bitchy or whiny about it. He knows that if I embarrass myself, especially if it's mortally embarrassing, not to keep bringing it up or tease me until I bring it up again, because then I'm okay with it and have gotten over being embarrassed. He knows that I mean what I say.

But in my head, I know it's just a fantasy, just a dream about an imaginary person. Real life doesn't work that way. I keep dreaming of him, though, and sometimes it makes me cry. To have someone listen to me on that level would be nice, instead of it being something that I have to work at getting through to someone for years and years and have to give up because I'm far too frustrated at that point, and just live inside my head with my thoughts or write down my frustrations. In a way, I've just completely given up altogether, but that doesn't mean I don't still have a sliver of hope. I suppose that makes me pathetic, but so be it, because I no longer have the will or desire to have to explain myself repeatedly only to be ignored in favor of someone thinking that they've actually figured me out. I haven't completely figured myself out yet, and if there's anyone who can analyze things to death, it's me. Some people are amazingly simple to figure out. Others, not so much.

So I'll just write my pathetic whiny screeds on the internet, take a deep breath, and then go to work. God, I really am insufferable and boring!

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

"Oh, so it's just going to be me and the guys."

"Ah, so you're taking a mancation?"

I had an umbrella in my hand. A very large umbrella, with a metal tip, great for poking out eyes. "Mancation"? Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Of course, if I had poked her in the eyes, I probably would have been fired.

But I really, really thought long and hard about it.

I really, really hate these stupid cutesy words. "Bromance" is another that gets on my nerves. Just stop. If I ever meet the people who come up with these asinine terms, I will kill them. People have been taking vacations for a very long time now, whether it's the family vacation, vacations with friends, or just a vacation alone. I don't even want to know what the female equivalent is called, because I guarantee you, it'll be equally stupid. I really wanted to fucking punch something after hearing the word "mancation". Instead, I got breakfast.

I could see if the word was used ironically, in some kind of joking way. But no. It was used as an actual concept. Really, I think if the waters start to boil and we all die off, it won't be soon enough to stop these stupid words from being used.

I say let the cockroaches take over. We're done.