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?

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.

"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

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.

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.

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?

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...

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.