Dear Yahoo,

While I don't care whether Yahoo 360 shuts down or that Geocities is going away, I am miffed that you shut down Yahoo Music.

You see, I have this here blog, so Yahoo 360 wasn't the ideal place to put things. I mean, yeah, I used it for the insipid OkCupid questions and some of the stumbling stuff, but really, I had a whole of seven posts over a three year period. I've recreated the posts here and that's cool. And I really didn't need a website anyway, because I'm really not that interesting. I'm pretty fucking boring.

But the Yahoo Music...that was cool. I was very sorry to see it go, as it had been superior to Rhapsody, what with the fucking hijacker Real Player. It was confusing and stupid, and the tech support was awful. It was a bitch to use when I was four sheets to the wind. But Yahoo Music was good! And the tech support was awesome! It was everything that I wanted in a music service and more! I really loved the random trivia that would come up. It made me feel smarter, like I almost could be an Insufferable Music Snob. For that, I thank you.

Sincerely,
A Long Time Customer

Dear Sky Fairy Fucker,

Please let this week be a good week. Nice and easy and no crazies. That's all I really want. And if you can manage it, please deactivate the sigh button for Clueless, because I'd really like to slap her if she keeps sighing.

There is nothing as cool as mitosis represented in the medium of donuts.

And I LOL'd.









Who knew that Hitler could be so funny. It's Hitleriffic!

This made me think of a funny story.

I can't remember how old I was, probably about 9/10, when we lived in the Downer house for the second time (not that I remember the first time we lived there!). It was summer and the night was hot and muggy. I was up in my room, with my little boombox on, Madonna or something like that, and I fell asleep with the lights on. At this time, my parents had bought those screw-in touch light things that all you had to do was touch the lamp and the light would come on. It may not seem important, but it's the only thing that I could come up with to explain my dream.

It was Earth and we were very happily playing, busying ourselves with mundane tasks. And then the UFO came. It hovered over Earth, but there was no communication as to why they were here. At first, everyone was excited to see it, but it didn't do much. Until it brought its "friends", and by "friends", I mean warships, because they started firing at Earth. They shot lasers that would destroy things, and predictably, there was panic - a lot of panic. People running everywhere, trying to find a safe place to hide. This was before they launched little saucers that could fly down to street level. When that happened, there was very little hope. They would laser any human on the street, hellbent on eradicating us all. I remember hiding in buildings, at first; they were destroying large buildings before the smaller ones. Anywhere where we could hide would be destroyed with swiftness. In the last moments, when I was hiding with another person in our little alcove of rubble from a building that once belonged to the college that we lived near, when I still had a sliver of hope, it fell silent. For a few moments, my companion and I just laid there. I'd lost my family; they'd made me hide somewhere where I couldn't be found, and when I emerged, they were all dead. Being that I was child, I didn't know what to do. I had no way to find out if any of my other relatives were alive. My companion, an adult, found me after a few days, and took me under her wing, helping to hide us, finding food and water. And we laid there, with her arms around me to protect me, terrified at the utter destruction that these creatures had wrought. We'd been in that hiding spot for a few days; water and food was scarce and quickly becoming scarcer. "It's quiet; let's make a run for it," she said. "Over there, see that little space?" I nodded. "We'll run there. Get ready." She unlaced her arms from me, and we positioned ourselves to run. "Ok, let's go."

We bolted out of there, my eyes focused on our destination, my attention drawn in making my legs move as fast as they could. Not far, I told myself. Not far to go. Keep running. Suddenly there was a scream, and I heard it behind me. Don't turn around, keep running! But it was there, I knew it was there, and I knew it would train its lasers on my back. But I kept running. For all I knew, I was the last of my family alive, and I didn't want to die. Please God, I prayed, please don't let them get me! I was almost there, when there was this bright light, oh so very bright, and pain, oh the pain, and screaming....

I fell off of the bed and woke up. It took me a few minutes to realize that I was in fact at home in my room, the tape still playing, and I was lying on the floor. My heart was still racing as I stood up. The light in my bedroom was going wild - off, on low, on medium, on high, then off, repeating the cycle over and over again. I guess the humidity was affecting the sensor. It was at that point that I chuckled to myself - lasers, indeed! I put on some pjs, unplugged the lamp, and crawled back into bed. As I drifted off to sleep in the dark, I stared out of the window and thought, Thank God that was just a dream!

Maybe it's not the drugs. Maybe I'm just having a fucked up dream week, because even though I didn't take pain pills, I still had one very fucked up dream.

And it was merely a strange dream until I realized who the people in the dream were. When I did, that made me wake up fully and go, "What the fuck?"

It was a dream about Mr. Asshat and his parents. But not his parents, really. It was the parents of another asshatty friend of mine, someone I lost touch with long ago. His parents were surprisingly normal, and I couldn't understand how they could produce such a jerkwad. And for all his flaws, Mr. Asshat actually is a sweet guy, except for that kicking me in the leg thing. Maybe that's why I connected the two, subconsciously. Because Mr. Asshat's parents, when he talks about them, seem like jerkwads themselves. In some strange way, it makes some sort of sense.

I don't think personality is entirely nurture, given that this happens a lot apparently. Some assholes have really nice parents. Some nice people have asshole parents.

But then there was the gender reassignment surgery for extra what-the-fuckness.

I'd rather go back to day-glo creatures with keyboard-like mouths. That seems less fucked up.

Because I'm in a very silly mood...

"Are you free this weekend?"

Well, let consult my magic papers:

Post-Operative Instructions for Oral Surgery

Number 6: do not use a straw. It does not mention how long that should last.

I say this because there's certain things you don't ask the dentist. Really, you just don't.

I will never ask for oxycodone - better known as Percocet - again.

This stuff is like crack. Seriously. I have some deliciously fucked up dreams on this shit, and it makes me want to do it again...and again.

So when the pain stops, I will give them to my friend who is almost always in pain. I don't fucking need to have fucked up dreams with penguins in dress pants and a shirt and tie, working in an office, moving the mouse with his foot and using his flippers to type. Really, I don't, but it's still awesome. Which is why it needs to go.

Just like I don't keep around the cracklike liquor, I shouldn't keep the cracklike prescription drugs around. Nothing but trouble.

I find this rather funny:



From this site.

Now 100% Wisdom-free!

Everyone kept telling me how painful this was gonna be, how miserable I'd be. I'm not feeling miserable. Just blah and a bit tired, due to the ibuprofen and the antibiotics. I mean, where the teeth were is quite sore and a little swollen, but they were always sore before then. I still had the mega ibuprofen from last year's teeth debacle, so I'm taking that instead of the pain pills, which make me feel clammy and gross. And I'm fine, just a little more tired than usual. And as long I put ice on it, I'll be okay.

I'm not quite sure if I just have a high tolerance for pain or not. But it doesn't feel painful, just tender. I also discovered that despite my love for pudding, there's only so much of it I can eat. Luckily I've got applesauce and eggs.

Alright...so the drugs have kicked in.

Of course, it did so right as I learned about this bizarre concept of genital beading.

Body modification in general, while I find interesting, just isn't my cup of tea. I don't really understand the drive to do it either. I mean, I can understand that people like to be different...but that kind of modification just seems a bit odd. I don't even know if I really could understand it. That's not to say if I saw people with modifications, I'd be rude and crass. I might stare a little, only because I find it interesting.

I like this cartoon.

I've had a similar thought myself, except for positives. Like, "Would do again."

Hehehehehe. But that's just me.

I'm only hopped up on advil right now, but even if I wasn't, this is still funny:

Toy Movies

Atom.com: Funny Videos | Animation | TV & Movie Spoofs

In the Shades of Past

Who are you, Dear Face, that I see in dreams? I can recount every line of it, every delicate feature, every hair. And every time I see a glimpse of the face from out of the corner of my eye, I look harder, but it is not your face. And your face in my dreams is vivid, as if you are there, standing near me, that I can reach out and stroke your cheek, kiss your eyebrows.

Were you once the friend from the invisible playground? Or are you someone I've yet to meet? Are you just another in a series of images of a fevered mind? I want to know, I really want to know, because it seems strange not knowing. Are you just the part of myself that I never allow people to see?

And I read all of the words past and I realize I was more right than I thought I was, more real, and suddenly I'm me again, but you've appeared. Where do you lurk, I wonder to myself. Are you like me? Or are you the total opposite of me? I never know, and will probably never know.

So I swirl through the aether, floating motionless, sanguine flights of fancy.

But I still look.

Really, I have to stop surfing the internets. Because not only has there been one instance of WTFery, but TWO. I give you...



Wow. I never thought that bread could be so cheesily sexy. NOT.

I came across this post on family portraits. Some are pretty laughworthy, but then there is the one...oh, dear god...I can't even begin to describe it...



I just...words fail.

Perhaps we need to license people to use the internet, like we do for driver's licenses. Why do I say this? Case in point.

Sometimes I wonder if we as a species will really survive.

An interesting link, about Ye Olde Health Tonics and Whatnot.

One person's "health tonic" is another's "controlled substance".

Better yet: Get tomorrow's illegal drugs legally today!

The Cutest Tongue In The Universe

So tiny and blue,
ashen and pale,
head studded with dark hair,
alien fingers,
low set ears,
but then the tongue -
little pink tongue
peeked out of the little mouth,
so sweet and silly,
the little baby
born to tragedy.
We wish you had been healthy,
we wish you had lived,
nine days of waiting for death,
before your heart gave way.
She prayed for you, child,
and you were desperately wanted,
but now you reside,
in the saddest part of a cemetery.
We'll carry on with life,
with a bit of sad memory,
hoping that your grandmother
takes care of you
into infinity.

Alright...my other stuff, that I barely wrote in...I decided to create a new one.

And I really, really want to order some absinthe now.

*sigh*

Not going to wait by the phone.

Not going to call, because hell, whatever.

Not going to wait for the call. Because really, I have no life, but I really don't want people to know that. It's unseemly.

This is totally fucking funny:


The Glee Club of the Damned.

It never ceases to amaze me, my sense of humor.

I was thinking about the You Suck at Craigslist post that will forever make me laugh, the one

Hehehehehe. Sorry, I had to do that. But then I was thinking of some other really funny stuff, like the graphical version of What's Liberal About the Liberal Arts? (I have not read the original book.) Or any metathread, where people "speak in meta" (Heh, or "Obligatory chuckle"). That will never fail to make me laugh. It's kind of strange, to analyze why something makes you laugh. If you look at my bookshelf, among other things, there's always Life In Hell, The Far Side, and Bloom County. I even have a few years of Garfield, mostly before it really sucked. I've always been a fan of MAD. I like satire and sarcasm, and if possible, wit.

I only state this because I have to work today and I need to think of things to laugh at so that Clueless doesn't upset me with her *deep sighs* and high velocity sneezing. I wish she didn't sit next to me because that's what really creates the annoyance factor. And there haven't been any great job openings at my company so that I can do something else and not be near her.

But I suppose the deep sighs and sneezing is a step above diarrhea. Hmm...I wonder if you can pressure wash with bleach...

I'm sick of the Clueless One. I want her to stop running into my cubicle, I want her to stop just "talking out loud to herself" in order to get attention from anyone in the vicinity. I want her to stop sighing deeply, like she's got some wistful rumination in her empty, vapid head. She fails at life, really, and I'd have pity for her, but she knows how to think. If she truly were stupid, I'd have more compassion and sympathy for her.

She's a mean-spirited asshole who pretends that she cares. Plus, she really thinks everyone cares about all of the minutiae of her life. I mean, how awesome does it sound when you say you are going against doctor's orders because you don't want to do something? I could see if your doctor ordered you to eat a live puppy everyday to sensibly seek another opinion, but we're not talking anything like that here.

Maybe one day she'll wake up and realize that the world isn't about her. On second thought...no. She probably never will.

Shit, it hasn't even been a week. When's the next day off?

Who Let The Dogs In?

While I understand the drive for creating something, I do at least recognize that I can't do everything.

I had this inspiration of doing like a youtube/podcast thing playing a demon who works in Hell. I'm still thinking about it, and how I would go about doing this as to make it pretty believable (still working on the script!).

However, I at least have enough sense not to be a conservative rapper. Case in point:



I damn near died laughing. They should have a warning on this, like "May laugh yourself to death" or something. The lyrics? Totally awesome. I'm glad that "the youngins" are trying to uplift the very same party that stands for sexism, racism, homophobia, robber barons, and rapid depletion of natural resources as well as religious domination and war. Because what's cooler than bombing some brown people? Torture! And Jesus!

The lyrics are a laughfest. Really. I think that they need a little help.

Thank you Miss Cali for reminding us of marriage

Can't support abortion, and call yourself a Christian

I support life, you're a puzzled politician

Translation: I like to keep the bitches down, yo. That's where they belong.

So, since I'm feeling generous today, perhaps they could use this as a guideline:

I keep down the the bitches and hos
kickin’ liberal hippies in the nose
chilin wit’ my bros
pressin’ red buttons
blasting them desert hos
straight into the sun
you know you wanna join the fun
of being a Young Con
not “convict” son
conservative man
worshiping Ayn Rand
savin’ precious fetuses
for the Lord Savior Jesus.

See? Not that hard to take awful rap and elevate it to half-assed. Yo.

I'm going to be honest for a moment.

I want to fuck you. Right now. For 12 hours straight.

That will not happen. At least, not right now, and probably not for 12 hours straight.

And I say 12 hours straight because every day isn't an option. I mean, when it comes down to it, that's what I really want, but will not get. I suppose I could make an effort to find someone who is willing to do that, but I would just be thinking of you. And then that makes it really sad and pathetic, and pretty hopeless as well.

I've done that before. There isn't enough Tequila in the universe to wash away the sad and pathetic of that.

But instead, I will go clean my kitchen, and continually think of fucking you.