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.

I really, really need to get this.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

"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.

Just thinking.

So I was reading this one blog, that was about writing and someone's personal life, and the writing was melodramatic and a bit stuffy for my tastes...and then I suddenly thought, "Jesus, do I sound like that? DEAR GOD, KILL ME NOW!"

I really hope it's not like stuffy and pretentious. I mean, sometimes I really indulge in a bit of pretentiousness, but I really try not to, as I see it as a worse habit than smoking. I'm more inclined to do so the more I drink, but at most, I go out drinking once a week, so I try to keep a lid on it. Mostly I'm successful. I also try not to be an asshole, but that doesn't work as well.

I really do not know where I get this bizarre entitlement to sex and/or a having a boyfriend. I am of average looks and brains, not terribly fascinating nor exciting, childhood wasn't so bad, despite the teasing thing, teenage years were pretty normal for a suburban dwelling teen, didn't get into a lot of trouble. Actually, my life has been pretty boring with a splash of excitement here and there. I've really only had two boyfriends and People That I Have Slept With, and that's about it. I mean, yeah, my mother was always saying stupid shit like, "They'll be falling all over themselves to be with you", but I've never once fucking believed that shit. Are you kidding me? Riiiight.

I mean, I really don't want to grow old by myself, I would like to have someone there, because that's always nice. But I'll do it alone, if I have to, if I don't meet someone. At worst, I could always spend the rest of my life with Mr. Asshat, as we actually get along now, and well, he's seen the crazy, so he'd know what to expect, but I sincerely think that I'd never be that crazy again. I mean, there was a lot of shit going on at that time. I'm different than I was years ago.

But I'd rather not.

With that also comes a point where I just don't want to go home with guys at the bar anymore. Or at least, the ones I know. I mean, occasionally I'll feel like it, but not really. And I know half of that is fear of attracting the crazy, because boy do I. I'm a crazy magnet, plus a spent a few years being crazy myself, but the crazy I attract is far crazier than my own. (It's just easier to have a one night stand and not know about the crazy.) But I find it interesting that once I stopped being like den mother to bar/coffee shop folk, suddenly I had no friends and no prospects. I refuse to be someone's mother. And with that, it seems, I'm sitting there in the bar writing in a notebook about how no one loves me, guess I'll go eat worms. Well, my pity party of one plus random hilarious observations and ideas. And I really hate to be the pity party of one, but that whole entitlement thing comes back. Half of those screeds start with, "I am not entitled to anything", because why I need that reminder, I don't know. Not entitled to someone's time, not entitled to conversation, not entitled to someone else's reproductive equipment.

And I know people mean well when they say, "But you are fascinating!" If I really was, I'd be swinging on the skin pole a lot more than I am now. It'd be worth it to someone that they'd want to be with me. But most of the time, that's just not the case. I don't think I'm exceptional or such hot shit or anything. But that's not to mean I think of myself as worthless. Oh, no. I am worthy of respect and love, because I'm a human being. At the very least, worthy of basic human dignity.

But then I wonder - are people conflating arrogance with confidence? Is my problem more along the lines of not being arrogant? I know shit, but christ, I don't claim to know everything. I'd have a stroke if I tried. Maybe that's what it is; that I used to be an arrogant jackass, but I've since grown out of that. I mean, I did lose some confidence, but I've gotten that back, for the most part. But then again, I remember saying things along the lines of "I don't know everything" when I was much younger. The more I think about it, those years of being arrogant, maybe that explains it. I just don't have the energy for that anymore.

Mischievous. That's what I have time for. I'd rather be silly than arrogant. At least I laugh more that way. Maybe I'll just continue to coast along on that idea, for I don't think I really could take down my OkCupid profile. It is a work of art, something that skirts the line between "Are you serious?" and "Well, there are some serious details". Because I like toeing that line. It's fun. And that's not to say I'll give up having sex at all (I have learned that are some things in life are worth driving two hours for) or wanting a boyfriend. It just means I'll work at changing my expectations of going to the bar to only include "getting drunk".

I think, really, all I need to do is distract myself when I start feeling entitled about things. I did manage to spend four days reading epic flame war threads and the whole archives of Why Women Hate Men, as well as Desparately Seeking...Something? (Up until I read that last one, I did not know that guys willing posted their dick pictures on Craigslist. You would think that they wouldn't, seeing as how pictures on the internet can be routinely mocked. I will never be able to get the words "Sad Dick Syndrome" out of my head.)

Here's to hoping August is better...

Ok, so as I'm YouTube surfing and wondering if my favoritist song was available.

And it is!

It's embarassing how many times a day I listen to this song as well as how it can pull me out of funk.



Now it's here for my enjoyment. Like I don't have it on the iPod. But it's such an awesome song, it's worth having in several different formats.

Ok, I totally forgot about this one:

Alright, so instead of cleaning, I'm just surfing YouTube.





I'm sending this one to everyone on Easter next year:

I really wish I'd come up with this:

Am I a bad person for wanting to be able to do this trick:

Kitty Wigs.

Those cats do not look happy. I mean, when I wear a wig, I know what I'm doing and if I'm going anywhere where I'll be warm, I know to make sure to be comfortable. But these are cats. Cats have fur. And you want to add a wig?

Really, it just belongs with Stuff On My Cat.

Pretty funny.

Larger version here.

This is an interesting story.

There's quite a few things in life that I really can't wrap my mind around. Theoretical physics, higher level math, and racism/sexism/homophobia.

A few years ago, back when I worked the night shift in a different department, there was this coworker that I would take my smoke break with. One day, there was an accident at the corner, and people standing around, looking at the car. As we were walking up to take a closer look, and we're chatting about the accident, she says, "Oh you know those people".

"Um, I hate to point this out to you," I replied, "but white people get into car accidents too."

"That's not what I meant!"

Seriously? What the fuck else could you have possibly meant? There's a group of black people looking at, presumably, their seriously mangled car. My bet is that would it be considered totaled by the insurance company. And how did that car get so mangled? There was a city bus parked halfway up the hill. My first thought on seeing that was that yet another city bus plowed into a car. (That was about the third accident I've seen at that corner involving the city bus and mangled cars.) The only other possible option for what "those people" (and it was said in that tone!) mean would be "bus drivers". And we hadn't seen the bus yet.

I'm not surprised by a country club pool that refuses entry to black kids. I find it very sad and extremely stupid, but I know that those white people are out there. I mean, you have to be a joy-killing heartless bastard to tell a bunch of kids, "I'm sorry, you can't have fun here because the chlorine might dissolve your blackity blackness into our pristine, pure white water. We wouldn't want to poison our children into thinking it's acceptable or fun to play with the darkies."

It's not always so blatant, but I always feel like mocking it, it's such a pervasive part of white life. "Don't go to that neighborhood!" even if it's a quiet neighborhood, where there isn't a lot of crime, just the presence of black people. It's nuts.

When I point this out to other white people, they get a little edgy. I love the phrase "Let me tell you about [insert ethnic/cultural group here]", because I know what's coming out next...the most bigoted things that you could imagine. Like if I just opened my eyes to see, and basked in the expertness of this white person (usually male) living in the ghetto, or in a gay area, or near "Mexicans" (because Puerto Rico is part of Mexico or something!), I'd just know that they are awful people who need to be separated from us! It never once occurs to these people to leave their neighbors alone and stop spying on them, to stop being so fucking nosy and just mind their own goddamn business. The best one, I think, is the guy whose anger toward his black neighbors boiled down to the fact that they never said "Hello" back to him.

It's not that I'm perfect either. No white person is. But at the very least, people can leave well enough alone. Seriously. Just because a person doesn't like Hispanic people or gay people doesn't mean that we have to build walls or arrest them or prevent them from getting jobs. Just keep your nasty thoughts to yourself and your opinions (which is what it really is) away from our laws. If the sight of a black person driving a BMW chaps your ass, so be it, but that's your problem, not the rest of the country's problem. It would also be nice to not assume that because we share the same skin color, I will think as you do...because really, I don't care. I'm not interested in hearing about how Jews are running the planet, how Richard Gere is so gay he's stuffing gerbils up his ass, or how the great black hordes are going to rape all white women. I mean, if you have to let your limited imagination run wild with outdated conspiracies and urban legends, that's fine, but I can think of far better things that are way more amusing.

Although if I read another article on how women don't like sex or that rape is the woman's fault, I'm gonna punch something. I may not be Slutty McSlut slut, but even if I was, it doesn't matter. The nose can stay out of my business!

So my jaw is hurting because I have a massive migraine going on right now. Well, it would be massive, but I took pain meds for it.

Right now, it's just mildly painful and not excruciating. My jaw doesn't hurt anymore but I still have the headache. So here I am thinking that this has got the be the worst headache ever, if even pain pills can't get rid of it...

And then it dawns on me. I haven't had any caffeine today. No wonder my head really, really hurts.

I rarely turn on my TV or visit the local news sites.

I had no idea that Patrick Cudahy plant was on fire, since last night. And it still is on fire. I really wonder how much of it will be destroyed and if they'll be able to recover this plant. They're a large employer in Cudahy.

I also learned another disturbing fact today, from glancing at CNN. Someone sick fuck out there developed an iPhone app that featured a crying baby that you can shake...to death. Why would you think that there's a market for a virtual baby shaking/killing iPhone app?

So I had the follow up with the dentist today.

"Oh, you can open your mouth pretty big. A lot of people have trouble with that."

Well, yes, but that is because I will not let anything stand between me and the weekly Cousins sub, oozing with mayo and brimming with meat and cheese. Also, I'm experiencing the novelty of being able to open my jaw without it cracking. But I did not say this. Mostly because he was poking around in my mouth.

Everything's healing GREAT!...except for the infection on the left side. And I know it's infected, because it hurts, and I sleep 12 hours a day. I've had that before, when I needed to get the root canal. I didn't feel well until it cleared up. What sucks is that it was okay for the first few weeks, but this weekend, it got worse. So now I'm back on antibiotics for the next two weeks. I guess it's okay. I'll stay out of trouble.

*sigh* My body hates me.

If you were ever curious as to how to butcher a human, here's a handy guide.

This is the best sentence ever:

The skin can be disposed of, or made into fried rinds. Boil the strips and peel away the outer layer, then cut into smaller pieces and deep-fat fry in boiling oil until puffy and crisp. Dust with garlic salt, paprika and cayenne pepper.

Yum!

Update: Completely forgot to include the link.

I think I know what kind spoof website I want to create. It will be awesome.

Well, it will be awesome if I could pull it together, which I'm hoping I will.

More literal versions.





And of course, the best for last:

Alright, what the hell?

I suppose with all my boredom, I could probably put together a website that was dedicated to proving that squirrels are evil. But there are other things to do, better things, like procrastination or cooking.

And rainbows will puke with the gloriousness of my rule.

This is really funny - about Twilight, the scourge of reading.

I do what I normally do when it's the daytime and I'm bored.

I make stuff.

It has always amused me that premade baba ganoush had mayo in it (or at least, the brand that that's popular around here). I consider that very WTF. It's really eggplant, olive oil, garlic, lemon (shit! that's what I forgot at the store!), and spices. There's really no way to fuck that up. I mean, was the bright idea of using mayo because mayo had oil in it? Because it tastes like ass when paired with eggplant. It's too sweet.

So I make my own. It's really easy to, plus it lasts for a few meals. I'm also going to make some rice and chicken dish. Hopefully, it'll turn out.

So I get bored, and go out drinking.

It's not that I don't mind The Vet. He's basically a nice guy, a regular, I know who he is. He rarely, if ever, speaks to me, and only then when he's already trashed. And by trashed, I mean so loaded I mostly have no idea what he's saying because he slurs so badly. But it's fun talking with him. And I am the sort that I like to talk to people.

There's very few times where I'm like, "You're way to drunk for me to go home with you." I never want to be someone's regret, and besides, I'd like to avoid that myself. When it comes down to it, it'll be what I said before - "I could fuck other people but who I'm thinking of is you". And it's purposely nebulous, because the "you" changes from time to time. There's three or four people who are the "you".

I suppose it's sad that I have a list of people like that, but I can't help it. If I had a boyfriend, maybe I wouldn't need this list, but it's not a sure list by any means. Most of the time, I end up not with anyone because I just don't. But there's a part of me that wishes that the sex was regular. That is all that I really want, at this point. I've given up any pretense of being someone's girlfriend, just because I can't be - I can't be the person society wants me to be because I am who I am.

I'm an asshole at times and I very well know that. Take now for instance. I'm still drunk, a condition that I haven't had in YEARS. I am both amused and saddened by it. My jaw still hurts but I don't care. I've somehow left my debit card at the bar. But really, there's nothing I care about at this point in time.

So I went up to Walgreens to buy cigarettes, because I was bored and I really wanted to do something. So I wandered around like I normally do. I made my purchases, some nail stuff, 'cause I think I'm gonna do my nails this weekend, and cigs, and soda.

I did not want to go back home. I was bored.

So I drove around. It really does amaze me that we don't have anything other than fast food joints, bars, and drug stores that are open late.

I remember staying out late in my favorite coffee shops, being able to have fun without drinking. I didn't start going to bars until I was 23. Now, there's nothing fun. I mean, bars can be fun, but I'm really fucking tired of drinking alone. I hate dance clubs with a passion. I want there to be a late night coffee shop, something that doesn't involve lots of food. God, I wish Gameworks had come here. At least then I could have a bit of fun playing video games. Seriously, we need something like that.

My thoughts on this are nothing new...I remember being a teenager and feeling this way. I certainly wasn't going to hang out at the mall - that just seemed really stupid. And I didn't have any money to spend anyway. Coffee was cheaper and I could drink gallons of it while I wrote my stories and poems and smoked.

And as I continued driving, I realized I was close to where I'd gone to high school. So I turned down the street, and entered the school grounds. (I have a creepy iPod, as when I turned into the driveway, it played "Doesn't Remind Me".) It's really changed, looks so much more modern now. Also, they added a auditorium. That would have been nice when I was doing the drama thing.

The thing about high school is, I'll share funny stories of high school, and high school antics, but I don't really like sharing where I went. If I'm in a jovial mood, maybe I'll tell someone. But somehow it just seems so strange to declare that I went to an all-girls private Catholic high school. Same for admitting that I have a college degree as well. It just seems strange, like that was so long ago in another lifetime, like the whole decade of my twenties never happened.

I've always grown up middle class, but I remember bits and pieces of my younger years, and we weren't that well off. And the people I tend to meet seem to be put off my background. Well, some of the people I meet, anyway. I've known people whose parents were extremely rich but either treated their children like crap or their children were assholes. I didn't spend time slumming around Europe or at a boarding school or anything like that. But we also had enough money for me to go to Germany for three weeks, and get a used car that I shared with my brother. We weren't poor nor were we rich.

And after I drove around, I drove back home. I'm still bored, and all I have is a bottle of tequila. I could drink all of the tequila in the world but it wouldn't be what I really want - absinthe. It's too expensive to order in a bar (for the one bar that I know serves it), and I don't quite have the money to really justify buying it. Perhaps for my birthday I will. I will have to develop superhuman powers of resistance because I will want to drink the whole bottle.

Well, off to bed. Might as well. Maybe I'll try my hand at sewing again tomorrow, after I do my nails.

One of my favorite things to look at is horrible recipes. I suppose that's why I'll page through a Rachel Ray cookbook (though most of her stuff isn't all that bad, but sometimes she comes up with WTF stuff...not as bad as Paula Deen or Sandra Dee).

I love this collection of old Weight Watchers recipes. It's awful. Or the Gallery of Regrettable Food. And other sites about horrible food.

The nice thing is that I inherited my mother's cookbook collection. And wow, there's just some pretty awful stuff in there. "Kraft Dinner with Cucumber Sauce" or "Chicken Noodle Aspic". Seriously, was everyone completely tanked throughout the 50s? Or was it all that Valium that mother took? Jesus, almost anything "aspic" is horrible (tomato aspic with a few veggies doesn't seem so bad, but when you start adding things like lettuce or crab or Kraft dinner, no thanks!) It just seems like these would be things that would only sound like a good idea if you've had a few cocktails and heavy sedatives.

I also like the taglines on these things - "Salads - 'Tossed' and otherwise", "Try these gay tidbits!" Really, they're a stitch.

So, I'm back to IRC. Again.

Like I used to be.

Part of me really does want to have a "boyfriend". And I put it in quotes because a lot of people have a different way of thinking of such things.

Mr. Asshat did not like the term applied to people he did not live with. But by conventional means, were we were boyfriend/girlfriend. I just don't know what someone means by it...the term can cover quite a bit of ground.

To me, the term "boyfriend" means someone I have sex with regularly, possibly go to dinner every now and again, and that we have some kind of emotional connection. It does not include living together, nor will it ever. My bar's set so high, that it will take a legal contract to get me to live with anyone. That moves from "boyfriend" to "husband" in that case, the whole living with someone. It's not something I really can understand. I mean, my friends do it, and it's fine for them, but I just don't understand living with someone unless I'm married to them. It makes life so much easier...breakups, time alone, that kind of thing. On one level, I can understand the whole living together to see if we can kinda thing, but I can pretty much get that by spending time with someone, without actually living with them. I guess I just haven't found the right person for whom I'd willingly fall into debt and co-signing a lease with. Don't know if I ever will.

But I really don't want to be caught in that malicious trap of having to prop up someone else at the expense of myself. I just can't do that anymore. I'm not willing to. So maybe I don't want to be in a relationship. I just don't know at this point, because of hideous society. I mean, there are some things I can deal with in a relationship, but other things...well, unless I shot the guy out of my vagina, I'm not responsible for a lot things. And a lot of guys expect way too much out of women.

It starts to get pretty stupid if you think about it, and I really try not to, when it comes to that kind of thing. But I can't help wanting to have a boyfriend - someone who cares about what the hell I'm saying, who finds me fascinating, and who listens to what I have to say. Most guys don't care, and my relationships have taught me that it doesn't matter what I say, they will never listen - never truly listen. Which has always amazed me, because I am extraordinarily precise about things. I don't sugarcoat my abrasive personality - I'm very honest about it. So I'm always puzzled at why guys seem to think I'm a mystery. I'm not. Why should I be? And even then, most guys assume I'm just like every other "girl". No, I'm not, never have been, and if it makes you creeped out, not my fucking problem. Never has been my problem, and never will be.

So then - why bother? Why even bother with the stupid bullshit that girls are gold diggers and whatnot, and have to even try to break through the layers of society around them? If I had listened to society, I'd be married and have a couple of small children around. But I'm not like that. That's fundamentally not what I am. But to try to get through to guys about that...ugh, it's hard enough to get them to listen, but to listen to that, forget it.

My mother said, "Accept him as he is". That's all fine and good, if they can accept me for who I am, which apparently, is a impossibility. And thus, the conundrum. Do I really want a boyfriend, or am I just better off alone?

Sometime bitter resentment can be hilarious.

Take country music, for instance. I mean, maybe I'm a bad person for laughing at a song about suffering, but really, a lot of the stuff that they played at the Palace of Rock was waaay over the top. "I gave my wedding dress away"? Never fails to make me laugh. Kind of a "Wow, your life really sucks!" Or better yet, what Angie and I came up with, the sub-genre of country that's "men whining about their morally bankrupt wives/girlfriends". ("Mental Cruelty...that's what she said that day...") But some of it...god, I can't describe how horrible it is...and funny. ("Just remember, life turned her that way...I hate to admit it, but that last footprint's mine.") I think the best one is the "Will your lawyer talk to God?" It packs quite the bitter resentment punch. Seriously, there's some fucked up shit in those songs, and it's a beautiful thing.

And really, if people get mad that I could laugh at this stuff, the thing is, if your life is summed up in these songs, you need to rethink your life.

All I can say is, I will always enjoy "You ain't woman enough to take my man". And "Hey Mister Bartender" is great ditty too.

Dear Week,

Why have you sucked so badly? A day and a half of calls in the space of regular workday is bad enough, but why do holidays bring out the crazies? I'm damn near afraid to go to work tomorrow and get all of the truly crazy people. Just give me one nice easy day in which I can study my insurance book. I'd also like the jaw joint/ear pain to stop. Really, one can only take so much Aleve.

At least I have the fireworks out my front windows to look forward to.

Love,
Me