A New Thingy

At the left, if I've done it right. Yay for Weekly World News!

Convergence

Life is strange:

• When I walk around work, I have constantly touch metal surfaces, otherwise the static electric charge buils up so bad that when I should finally happen to touch a metal surface with my finger, the tip will go numb for several minutes. So my one of my coworkers laughs and says that I'm electric. Yesterday, right before quitting time, one of the lights flickered, and I joked that it was me. He laughed and said, "So, you think you have special powers, huh?" I laughed and replied, "If I could really do that, do you really think that there wouldn't be a power outage every week? Hell, every other day!" When I left, something had blown, and the parking garage was frighteningly dark. A few lights were on, one being directly above my car.
• At the bar, I ran into a guy that I hadn't seen for a few months, hadn't called, but no biggy. He came up to me, told me that he'd lost my number, and has a cell phone now, so I gave him my number again. Odd.
• My aunt gave me money to do with as I pleased. I can now get new glasses...and even more joyfully, get my fucking wisdom teeth removed. I'm estatic. I also can pay off my credit card. And I'll have enough left over after that to pay for another bridge for my front teeth and to cap the broken tooth I have. I might prepay for all dental work, just for the hell of it. Yay!
• I had a very odd dream. That will be in a different post, but damn, the dream was really odd. I think my mom visited me.

Hopefully this good luck will last.

A Funny

Let us go back to 1990, when a little Sporkeyette was precocious and juvenille, and was completely obsessed with They Might Be Giants:

Your Racist Friend
(Flood, 1990)

This is where the party ends
I can't stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend

It was the loveliest party that I've ever attended
If anything was broken I'm sure it could be mended
My head can't tolerate this bobbing and pretending
Listen to some bullet-head and the madness that he's saying

This is where the party ends
I'll just sit here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
You and your racist friend

This is where the party ends
I can't stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend

Out from the kitchen to the bedroom to the hallway
Your friend apologizes, he could see it my way
He let the contents of the bottle do the thinking
Can't shake the devil's hand and say you're only kidding

This is where the party ends
I can't stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend

On Race

Or, Even If I Am White, Please Think Of Me As Black

I harbor no illusions that I may have an occasional racist thought. It takes effort and motivation to stop and think about that single thought, to wonder, to dissect the thought until I can get it out of my head, at least for the time being. When you grow up in the white world, it's all too easy for the many layers of racism to seep into your head. I'm not talking about the group of white people and there's a black person in the room kind of thing...I'm talking about when there's no black people around. Apparently, some white people can feel that they can say certain things because we're all white, don't 'cha know.

Whatever class privilages my color gives me, I would gladly spend a day talking with people about the honkies. Really. It's not a "Can't we all just get along?" kind of thing, it's a "Well, people are just people" kind of thing, and you know what? If you have to, in just about any conversation about people, have to use qualifiers like "Black" or "Mexican" or "Towelhead", you can just stuff it. Like a story about a rude person has to involve color...or a funny story about a person has to involve color. If it's not necessary to the narrative, then STOP. Rude people are everywhere, and I don't know about you, but I've encountered my fair share of rude white people, as well as rude people from other ethnicities. It has nothing to do with race. Rude people are just plain fucking rude. And no more towelhead shit either.

On the street, in the bar, well, I can take that little bit and just be annoyed for an evening. At work, however, I sit and boil, getting angrier that I have to work with one of those people, you know their kind, the people who blather about "Towelheads" and black people getting into car accidents (as if, in the history of the world, no white person was ever in an accident!), the kind that all look alike. Sadly, I look like one of those people. I wish I didn't. And I so wish my coworker would shut up. I'm afraid that one day I'm just going to start yelling at her. I've taken, in my head, just to go "Blah, blah, blah" whenever she speaks like that. It's not working very well.

This weekend's activity? Must apply for other jobs. Not that I'll avoid the blathering idiots, but hopefully I'll be in an office where there are enough kinds of people to discurage those people to start blathering, lest they get dragged into HR and get their ass fired.

Off to work now, thank god it's Friday!

Heh.

You are a Social Liberal (66% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (20% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid Free Online Dating

Learning.

I learned tonight, that if I, with my fatty body and fat ass, cannot ever be held to same standard that thinner women and their smaller asses would ever be held to...

So apparently, having small tits and a small ass, coming from an ex-boyfriend, would actually be an excuse not to hit her. As long as she was attractive, he wouldn't kick her in the leg if she was spiritual...well, now I know what I did wrong. I just wasn't thin enough. Or had small ass/thigh/boobies thing going on. Ah, yes, my fault. My fault that I see through this bullshit. Either you love a woman, because you love her, or you're looking for the perfect 10. If you're looking for "perfect" without the phrase "perfect for you", you're wasting your time. Seriously.

I don't care whether guys are attracted to me or not. Just let me know. A "I'm not into you" is so much better than anything else...and I so wanted that. I even fucking asked ex, in fact, I said, "If you're not attracted to me sexually, then we can't go out. I just want to know." But did I get the truth? Oh, hell no. What the hell? I said it would be okay, but I wouldn't date him, we'd just be friends. Are there guys out there as terribly insecure as girls are? If there are, I would have no idea why......

Just a note.

Dear TypeKey:

Who is the retarded one? You or me? Becuase I can never sign into a typekey account, even though it admonishes me that I have to log out before logging in, and if I'm logged in, then why the hell can't I comment?

Pandagon, bitches, in Atrios fashion.

I used to visit there every once in a while, but when Amanda came on board, well, I check the damn thing every day. As a very long time lurker, and hideously infrequent commenter, I love the site. It's made me think through quite a few things in my life. That maybe I'm not so weird and paranoid as I thought I was. Good work! And any man who needles deserves Extreme Accupunture, probably soon to appear in a Weekly World News near you!

And yes, will be putting up the poliblog once I have some free time from the crap ass job and stuff.

Until then, keep firing, Assholes!

(It really all comes down to Spaceballs, for me at least. Hahahahaha.)