I'm all about doing some shit these days. Emphasis on the some. Or the shit, I don't know. My sleep schedule got all whacked up and I had insomnia again. My insomnia is like being a child on Christmas Eve. The mind is tired. The body is tired. Head meets the pillow. And then BAM! I'm awake! Can't sleep! Too much shit to think about!
And when I finally DO sleep, the dreams are ridiculous. I've had dreams where I'm referencing other dreams and talking about how crazy they are. I had one the other night in which my husband was refusing to cut his nose hair, which had developed into a thick black mess. He called it his "second mustache" and was combing it out over his existing one, handlebar style. Messed up.
I've been trying to figure out the whole pagination thing on the blog, but I'm picky as hell. And I haven't gotten around to reading anything. I've tried, but damn do I pick the most inappropriate times to tackle stuff, like when I barely keep my eyes awake as it is.

In other news, if you haven't seen the trailer for The Legend of the Grassman, Monkey Ltd's indie horror flick, check it out below:

I'm looking forward to resuming helping on this flick, and it's been getting quite a bit of press lately.
I also found out in a seemingly negative review situation (which I won't post because...in the words of Ice-T, that guy can eat a dick), I'm torn between the elation of seeing my name and the emotion of dealing with negativity. I'm not sure what that emotion is yet. It was a sting at first...then a "meh"..then a musing on how I should get thicker skin...then another musing on "Shit, I thought I HAD thicker skin"... then I got distracted and went elsewhere.
BUT MY NAME WAS ON SOMEONE ELSE'S SITE! WOOT!!

I know...I amuse myself at least.

Moving on... I'm also in the process of getting ready for podcasting. Project one involves something for this site that I'm excited about. It will be a collaboration of jackassery and comedy. For project two, I will be donning the producer hat. More jackassery on that one, no doubt. More on these to come very soon. I just need to buy a mic first. I bought a cast iron griddle this weekend, but not a mic. Target does not sell mics in the griddle aisle, else I would have nabbed one. And mics can't make pancakes. So...

Shit is gonna get done. LOOKOUT!

As many of my (mis)adventures so often go, this particular foray into the world wide web began with a string of tangents. I started on my brother's blog and was scanning his "liked" links. Despite my nerdom, I haven't spent nearly enough time on Topless Robot as perhaps I should. I was clicking through posts and came across this diddy - Cobra Commander Is Waiting to Talk to You. Hilarious, as is the Cobra Commander tumblr site, Cobra takeover. This all led me to Chatroulette, a site I have never been to...not one for chatting online to random people. Not since about 2000-2001ish. Even then was a stretch. But this...was magnificent. You vs stranger. Click for a new random person. I was still not in for the chatting. I was on a personal mission to find Cobra Commander. Alas, I did not find him this time. Ah well. I came across a cam focused on a picture of Toshio Saeki (creepy dead kid from The Grudge), which freaked my shit out. There was a creepy mannequin/mask thing and plenty of stills done in Microsoft Paint asking for a boob flash. As I clicked refresh again and again, I tried to think of something witty to say, but I was drawing blanks. Plus, that requires chatting. And effort.

In other news, I need to really get more sleep.

As for you, Cobra Commander: One day we shall me. I am certain of it.

YEOW!

Image via Wikipedia

Yeah, I know it's been a while since my last post, blah blah, I've been sleeping.
And taking notes. About things to write about. Creative juices = done flowed.

I was checking out my mafia farm in facebook to see if my new crops of thugs needed harvesting and whether or not the jerks who call themselves my friends joined my mafia family neighborhood yet, when I saw the same ad I always see on Facebook -- sorta. It was the "moms go back to school and get your learn on" ad, but with a rather curious alteration:

What the HELL is that??
I've given this some thought and decided on a few possible explanations. Maybe the advertiser is trying to infer that without a proper education, one's kids are destined to become ruffians and potentially homeless*. Or, perhaps it meant to say "Join this site and all your personal information will be given to THIS guy who will surprise you with a few weeks of stalking leading up to a home invasion and sexual assault." Or, maybe Facebook ads just suck donkey balls. Hard to say, really.

* For the record, I don't automatically assume all hairy beardy men are homeless. Hell, I'm married to a hairy beardy man. Sometimes, he DOES look homeless. And once, his beard got so out of control that he appeared to be supporting a terrorist group of sorts. His beard is like a separate member of the family.

This morning, I stumbled into the bathroom stall barely awake. As I sat there whizzing (too much info??), I found myself humming a tune out of no where. I paused for a second, scanning my mental media database of songs and jingles, only to realize that I was oddly humming the jingle to a 1987 cereal commercial:

My initial reaction to this revelation was to exclaim "What the fuck!"
....
I do not recommended yelling "What the fuck!" from a bathroom stall. It doesn't look good, no matter how you try to spin it.
....
What I love about this commercial (which I still have the words memorized, 22 years later..eeks) is the Jimmy Durante impersonator and the use of the word "indubitably" to describe a kid's cereal. They don't make commercials like this anymore. Now we have talking babies and pseudo-hipsters who love Miracle Whip and Jettas. What the fuck, indeed.

Ah-cha-cha-cha!

So thanks to the economy sucking, and my money management skills sucking, and wanting to actually pay bills instead of letting them accumulate, I was a little worried how plentiful Christmas was going to be this year. Part of the issue is that Christmas growing up was maybe a hell of a lot different than normal people's christmases. Is that a word? "Christmases"? Spell checker isn't picking it up, so I'm thinking perhaps it is.
But I digress.
Growing up, we had the "Santa" presents, which was a multitude of gifts in a selected spot. I seem to remember my spot being closest to the hallway and across from the Christmas tree. Then, there were the presents under the tree from the parents and siblings. These were wrapped while the Santa presents were not. Every Christmas Eve, I would be laying in my bed way too excited to sleep, and hit with a fresh dose of anxiety. I'd be frantically wondering if I was good enough that year for Santa Claus to visit. Had I fought too much with my younger brother that year? Had I talked back too much to my parents? What if I wake up in the morning and there weren't any presents for me?
It all seems silly now, but I never had one moment where I realized there wasn't a Santa Claus. I was 18 and still had doubts. (And I wonder why I had such a hard time adjust to the real world.) My parents were THAT good.
Unfortunately for me, this set the bar really high for me with my own kids. I was so determined to keep Christmas the same as it was for me. I have no idea how my parents pulled it all off though. There were four of us kids, and we were all going to parochial school. They must have started saving in January or something. I, however, kinda suck at saving money too far in advance. Every year I say I'm getting Christmas shopping done before Thanksgiving and every year that hasn't happened. This year felt especially different. There were no big bonuses to be had and the bills were aplenty. I could get the kids the major presents they wanted, but I couldn't do an extravagant cornucopia of toys. And I actually felt bad about that.
Then I started thinking seriously about things. What was the point of spending extra dollars to get them toys that they may or may not play with? They have plenty of toys as it is now, perhaps even too much as the result of birthdays and Christmases of past. They got the item they most wanted and a few corresponding accessories. I have to say, they were completely happy. My house wasn't overfilled with tons of packing waste and a million pieces of toys. It was very simple and stress free and definitely how I want to continue Christmases in the future.

At my previous job, staying up-to-date on the latest celebrity gossip was almost a necessity. My coworkers enjoyed sharing tidbits on who was dating whom, and who was seen wearing what. If there was a particularly hot story, of course you wanted to be the first to get and share the scoop. It was all pretty exhausting and particularly mind-numbing. At my current job, no one seems to give a damn on such things, so avoiding gossip sites was a welcomed change in the daily routine. After almost a year of not being engrossed in it, I'm pleased to say that I have no clue as to who is boinking who. Hell, a good percentage of the time, I have no idea who various "celebs" are. It's refreshing.
There is something inherently disturbing about the media's obsession over public figures' private lives. I never understand why it becomes news when a well-known person admits to diddling people on the sides. Isn't that a matter than he/she needs to take care of with their significant other? I suppose the newest morbid fascination is the whole Tiger Woods affair, which I've done my best to avoid completely. I couldn't care less about who he's having the sex with or how many women claim to have ridden Tiger's wood. How is that news? People have sex...get over it already! He's not the first person nor the last to have cheated on his wife. *yawn* It bears no relevance to my life nor should it affect his professional career. It may change the meaning of "hole in one", sure. *cymbal crash*

I will mention that one thing did catch my eye that I've rolled my eyes at and declared it the sign of the coming apocalypse. While doing some research to see if I was the only person who thinks German actor Daniel Bruhl resembles Smashing Pumpkins' Billy Corgan, one of the first things shown in the google search under news stated that Corgan was dating none other than Jessica Simpson. I'm telling you, that IS the apocalypse coming. Get your affairs in order, and quickly!
While I'm on the subject of celebrity gossip mags, I'm going to repeat the sentiments of so many others : since when did TMZ become a reliable source for anything? It is downright vile to see the AP quote TMZ or mention "TMZ had this story first." Bleck.
Anyway, I highly recommend removing this sort of mental clutter from your daily routine. Allow celebs their private lives and stop encouraging these gossip sites from invading the privacy and supplying pics every time Britney Spears gets a hamburger at a drive-thru.
Also:

Image via Wikipedia

That had nothing to do with any of this, but seriously, how often do you see Mariah Carey and Robert DeNiro together? Weird, right?

Ah, my first foray into the audio world.
Lessons learned:
1) It is hard as hell to talk to my computer when it's not talking back.
2) I say "you know" and "whatever" a lot.
3) Editing is mah friend.
4) I don't really have a four.

Enjoy this tidbit of advice being smacked your way.

I never really understood dream analysis that much. I'm sure the process has some valid points about the inter-workings of the brain and the subconscious, but I tend to think sometimes a dick is merely a dick. Not that there's a large collection of peni making cameos in my dreams or anything.
For a while, I've been having dreams with a reoccurring element popping up, and for the life of me, I have no idea why.
In the dream, I start out doing something or about to do something when I stop and say "First, I'm going to get a snack." But I refuse to use the vending machines readily available and instead announce that I'm going to use the "better vending machines in the basement". These vending machines are located in a parking garage and are truly awesome machines.
What I found most interesting is how the outer shell of the dream changes. Sometimes I'm in an office building. Sometimes it's a university. Once, there was a terrorist situation going on and I was sneaking down to the good vending machines undetected. Another time, there were zombies and I wanted to get a snack before barricading the doors.
So maybe there's some dream analysis that would interpret what an awesome secret vending machine in a parking garage symbolizes, but I'm almost certain it's merely my head messing with me.
And it is incredibly disappointing to wake up and realize these machines don't really exist.

I always thought my parenting style was a bit laid back, despite my oldest insisting that I'm "strict". I tend to do things that I consider to be common sense - an enforced bedtime to allow them to have enough hours of sleep to do well in school, restricted TV time, even more restricted video game time, and even more restricted access to "junk" foods. We don't keep snacky cakes or candy in the house, and fast food is the devil, so it's a rare event for the kids to have any. But despite the fact my kid had a friend that NEVER had Chef Boyardee and a friend that NEVER had an Icee, I'M the strict one. Hahaha! (It's my plan to move them completely off the processed crap..slowly but surely.)
When people tend to ask "is it alright if I give them [fill in the blank for whatever candy or treat]", I usually shrug and say it's alright cause I know they're not getting an excessive of it at home. Moderation is fine with me. Plus, they have no major allergies, so there's nothing for me to freak out about.
Ah..but with my dog...that's another story.
Bella has had many trips to the vet since we adopted her. We've switched vets once after the vet tech pissed me off and are ready to switch vets yet again (more for a cost/location issue). The poor dog has allergies - food and possibly inhalant. She gets itchy skin and chronic ear infections. As a result, she's on a few meds and has to adhere to a restricted diet -- and by the way, administering meds to a dog on a restricted diet is much fun considering we can't use cheese, peanut butter or any of those tricks. (Grape jelly does the trick, as we learned after weeks of trying to get her to swallow pills.)
Being on the restricted diet means approved dog food and that's it. No Snausages, or Beggin Strips, or leftovers. Of course, Bella doesn't understand this and begs all the same. We have to barricade the kitchen when we go out so she can't sneak in there and dig through the garbage for tossed out food. She's eaten entire loaves of bread in record breaking time out of desperation for "people food". I can deal with preventing her from having the potentially allergy-inducing food. It's when there's other people around that I become a crazy "parent". The amount of times I hear myself yelling "Don't give her that! She's allergic!" is ridiculous. I become crazy-protective, eyeballing her every interaction with people in case I see forbidden food approaching my dog. It makes me relieved that neither of my kids have any major allergies, as I would be a complete mental case about it.

It does nothing to help the case for one's mental sanity to be standing outside an elementary school and accusing a cat of stalking you.
I mean, what are the kids supposed to think when they see a grown woman telling a cat that he can't be following her around like this anymore and it has to stop?

Not that I did this or anything....

But for the record, it was a case of mistaken identity. (Having two black cats jump out at me in the course of twelve hours a few miles apart was a little odd, yes.)

As I mentioned in my previous post, October was a rough month for me, health-wise. I'm still getting over my latest sickness, but already feeling hopefully that November is going to be different. I made a major change in October. As much as I joke about how "crazy" I am, the truth is I'm an eccentric person. My mind goes off in complicated tangents and sometimes I lack a certain filter in what I say or how I act, but this is all normal me. Dancing when I get excited and getting distracted by shiny objects? Normal me. Unfortunately, I was dealing with a very non-normal me for a few months -- a very decidedly crazy me. Crazy me worries about scenarios that would never actually happen. Crazy me is unable to do simple tasks like make phone calls because of the aforementioned scenarios in my head. Crazy me is unable to sleep and wonders if scrubbing the walls down at 2 am is a bad thing or not. I had to tell crazy me to go to hell, as it was really interfering with my life. It felt like nothing was getting done cause of the time and energy I was wasting on, well, being crazy. I tried to "control" my anxiety issues on my own, but there was no amount of yoga to stop the internal jittering in my head. On my brother's advice, I decided to get actual help for my "issues". Of course, then I had to deal with the anxiety of telling someone that I'm crazy and the anxiety of taking a medicine to stop the anxiety. Ha!
Well, I started last in October, which may have coincided with the peak of my insomnia. But this past Sunday, something wonderful happened. I was actually tired at a reasonable hour. TIRED. This happened the following day, and the following. IN YOUR FACE, INSOMNIA!
I've also noticed that I feel less on edge than before, which is nice. I still feel a little jittery, but nowhere near what I was dealing with. Plus, I'm beginning to feel that I have a certain control over my life again. Perhaps it's looking on the really positive side of things, but it feels like I'll be able to focus again and get a lot more accomplished now. WOO!

I've had an incredible funk of a few weeks. After spending two days in the cold on set of The Grassman, I returned home feeling a little "off". At first I thought 'Damn, I'm awfully sore for not really doing anything too strenuous." Then I felt like my eyeballs were roasting, which is always a sure sign of a fever. I soon realized that I wasn't dealing with over-worked muscles, but lovely body aches, soon followed by nausea and headaches. Ah yes, "flu-like" symptoms. I spent several days out of work, felt better, relapsed, and finally am feeling 100% - minus the HORRIBLE FREAKING INSOMNIA I've had this whole time. Aren't you supposed to be able to sleep all day with the flu? Not I. So now I'm trying to feel well enough to do actual active things instead of feeling like a zombie. What is it about getting sick that, while your body has eradicated the virus or whatever, regaining momentum takes several days longer? To top it off, I hate sitting still too long, so all this resting and being drained is making me completely stir crazy.

The plus side? I managed to play a few more minutes of F.E.A.R 2 without cowering, thereby increasing my total play time to about an hour. Victory is mine!

As a child, I had an odd fear of kites. Don't get me wrong; I liked kites. I loved kite-flying. But I was afraid to actually hold onto the kite. My parents used to take us out to a local park, which also happened to be perfect for sled-riding, to fly kites when the weather was perfect. Once it got up in the air, I was convinced that it would some how be able to drag me off the ground and fly me away. To counter this, I would rationalize in my head that by lying flat on the ground, the kite would be unable to take me away. Unfortunately, I don't recall my parents being too understanding of this phobia. How does one, as a young child, articulate "Look guys, I'm scared shitless of this kite. Just allow me this one crazy indulgence so I can fly the kite in peace."? I just figured this was the start of my craziness and thought nothing more of it. I laugh about it now. So cute how crazy I was.
Then I see this video today:

Now I'm thinking maybe I wasn't so crazy after all.

(By the way...at the 1:12 mark - could that guy's voice POSSIBLY get any higher?)

Just in case you weren't aware that there are some really...odd..people out there, or that the internet is a great way to find them, I present you with this wonderful etsy profile.

I feel like a dick (no sidejoke there intended) cause there's this elaborate blurb about sexual abuse and her *feelings*, but the celebrating of the vagina..it's just so...fem movement circa 1990s.

And never have I seen so many items designed around the female genitalia that wasn't in that shady shop off the highway with the equally shady men inside that I don't even like to accidentally brush shoulders with cause I just know they're gonna be whacking later and frankly, that's too much info for me to handle. Plus, they never seem to be looking at the good stuff.

I'm wondering if the fam would be too terribly upset if this baby ended up on the couch:

And for Christmas, I want my own vulva portrait. I will hang it above the tv. Or not..

Don't get me wrong. I'm glad that this person is happy with her body. I just don't buy into the whole celebration of the vag thing. It's a body part. That's all. Ooh. Magical. (I know, I'm no fun.)
Do guys get all celebratory about their manly bits? Like "I used to feel dirty about my penis. Now I love it. And all the penises I meet."? Cause so far the only thing I've seen on etsy that dealt with manly bits were labeled as "NAUGHTY!!!" Yes folks, having a male sex organ on a piece of paper (ie, "penis stationary") is "NAUGHTY".

I just set myself for all the pervs to find me now with all that vag and peni talk. Shit.

There are a few terms that, for one reason or another, just make me twitch. "New media" is one, cause, really, is it all still "new" now? That's a relative term. The other is "social media" considering, as many have said, the very nature is anti-social. I'll admit it, I LOVE me some twitter and Facebook, although Twitter was way more fun pre-Oprah. I think the Oprah frenzy died down, but I'm still tired of seeing mobile phone companies trying to be hip by mentioning Twitter in their ads. "Well..shit..I was going to go with Sprint, but they haven't mentioned Twitter yet in their ads so clearly they hate technology." We get it. You know that we know. A-MA-ZING.

My major "issue" with the whole social media wave is the amount of twats emerging (and that may or may not be a whole pun/spin off of Twitter..I haven't decided yet) proclaiming themselves to be "experts" on the matter.

Hmm..."expert", you say? Well...let's dissect this one a bit, shall we? Let's think about other experts. Like, I dunno, an expert in marine forensics perhaps.

"I'm an expert in marine forensics. I have a college degree and many years of hands-on experience. I am recognized by other people in my field as being knowledgeable and reliable on the subject."

Versus:

"I'm a social media expert. I blog. I use Twitter. And Facebook. And sometimes I blog about blogging. Or I blog about how you should be blogging and I link to that blog post in my Twitter account. And I share links to other blogs and YouTube videos in Twitter and Facebook. And sometimes I blog about how you should use Twitter, which of course I link to in my Twitter account. So you see...expert. Pay me money."

I guess the word "expert" is becoming relative as well? Social media "experts" like to proclaim themselves to be experts. If that's acceptable, I henceforth declare myself to be an expert in awesome. Because I said. One day I shall have conferences on how you too can be awesome. It'll be epic. Beowulf-style.
These experts also like to throw in phrases like "personal branding", and remind us gently via 20 blog posts and twice as many Twitter updates that those nudie picks we've posted of last Saturday night can easily be accessed via potential and current employers. I like to call those "Epiphanies of the Obvious, aka, No Shit Sherlock". I know not to put up dickvids (aside from that being a physically impossibility...the female version doesn't sound nearly funny enough), yet that doesn't make me an expert? Or does it? The non-dickviding expert?
It's just a ridiculous amount of clutter on the internet, and we don't need any more clutter. To those self-proclaimed social media experts: If all you are doing is pontificating your expertise on Twitter, please knock it the hell off and get an actual job. Thanks.

1. There are a group of women (men?) who use the word "coupon" as both a verb (ie, "I coupon.") and a descriptive noun ("Yeah, I'm a couponer.")
2. Some of these folks use items such as actual binders to hold their collections of mayo and tampon deals.
3. There is a black market for coupon inserts in the newspaper. As in, prior to delivery. I'm not making this shit up.
4. These folks have ACTUAL CLASSES on using coupons. CLASSES. On using coupons.
5. Some of these people are batshit crazy. About coupons. And, in general. If you use too many coupons or buy too many of the same thing, they will get you with their ninja-like skills and piercing words of disdain.

I'm sure using coupons is complex. I mean, they put such tiny writing on them and all, right? So..yay for coupons and saving money. I, however, enjoy having hobbies that don't involve my walking around in a grocery or shitty supermart chain. Although...I'm pretty sure that I spent $30 today at the store on cheese and Count Chocula cereal, so maybe if I had taken some coupon classes I would be more grocery-store L33T. Damn!

Ever have that one friend who, no matter what, always had some sort of quasi-epic shit going on in their life? And I don't mean good epic, but melodramatic, disproportionate shit. My best friend growing up was like that, unfortunately I didn't realize until about 10 years into the relationship. Not only that, but she was a perpetual liar. It was impossible for her to not lie, really. Finding that out after investing 10 years into her bullshit and drama hurt me deep, but it gave me the much needed lesson to be able to distinguish these types of people immediately and walk away fast.
Now, I'll admit...I have issues. But my issues tend to be either related to my anxiety problems or typical shit like I don't have enough money to pay a certain bill. Sometimes, it seems when there's one issue, ten more follow right along. I take them in stride. Shit like this happens, but it's not the same as people who are so utterly unsatisfied with their life that they MUST create some form of drama.
My former friend did stupid shit repeatedly. It began to wear thin that 10th year of our friendship. She dated and broke up with a guy multiple times - a guy who tried numerous times to get in my pants, and yet instead of realizing that he was a piece of shit, she acted like he was the best thing ever. In itself, that's not a crime, but it was how they conducted themselves that was too much - the weird phone calls and the dramatic breakups and the over-the-top fights about shit that was certainly made up. When she realized he was a piece of shit, she dumped him and started dating another guy. Unfortunately, BOTH guys were drama-whores as well, so there were ridiculous stories of stalking and death threats, and OMG, the friend of a friend of a friend who was TOTALLY spying on them all the time! (Riiiight.) If I was in the car with them and a cop drove by, they ducked cause they believed the local cops had it in for them. For what, I have NO idea, nor do I know why they thought ducking in a car granted them some sort of invisibility to the cops. It was around this time that I realized that she was a goddamn liar and had been ever since I knew her. See, she happened to be dating a guy that was friends with one of my brothers, so I got enough information from both ends to see where the conflicts were coming from. It was a real eye-opening experience.And as painful as the experience was, it gave me the no-tolerance for dramatic bullshit stance I live by now. The second I get a hint of someone who manifests situations for that emotional effect it has on someone else, I end the relationship. Live is too short for that sort of nonsense.
I've seen this former friend a few times over the next several years. At one point, she said to me , clueless as ever, "I'm not sure why we stopped hanging out with each other." I chuckled and said "Because you're a fucking liar." It was almost as if she didn't know how to process that. She didn't seem upset or try to deny it. She just said "Oh...", like the thought really hadn't occurred to her until I mentioned it...and yeah, maybe it kinda did make sense. Can't say I know where she is now or what's she's up to. She had told me back then what her plans were, but I didn't listen as I figured it was all bullshit coming out of her mouth.
I will say this though...she did introduce me to the wonderful world of NES, and I will always remember our nights staying up till 2 in the morning and playing Super Mario Bros or Paperboy quite fondly.

Last year, I was a madwoman when it came to exercising and eating right. I was doing strength-training, yoga, cardio. I felt fantastic! And then something happened - I ended up switching jobs. By switching jobs, I mean I got laid off from one job and got a job offer from another place IN THE SAME DAY. It was the best lay off ever.
Let me back up a few...In another life, I was working in marketing. I'm not even sure how that happened, cause I have had this sort of dislike of marketing people since my first professional job. Anyway, I ended up in marketing and I kinda rocked that shit. But company-wise...eh...things were getting rocky. For months, there were days I didn't even need to show up in the office, or I worked from home, or I worked short hours. The point is, I had a hell of a lot of free time with which to exercise with. Then one day, I realized that things weren't going to pick up and I started looking for another job. The timing was impeccable. Unfortunately, after months of essentially not working, putting in a full 40 hour week took some getting used to. Suddenly, I no longer had the energy or time to work out. I tried for a while to maintain my schedule, but there always seemed to be SOMETHING to throw me off.
To top it off, self-loathing happens to be one of my many talents. Not exercising propelled my self-loathing which propelled depression which stalled any motivation I may have still had.
That brings me to now. I needed to find something to motivate me, to get me back on my feet again. I was visiting a site that had the community support I needed, but the problem with me and "forums" is that I lose interest rather easily. But I did take away a trick that I found helps me stay motivated and focused. On the site, I would participate in team challenges, which were modeled as races to various parts of the world. Using the amount of steps you took on a daily basis, it would be calculated how many miles to that goal you would go. I decided to do something like this- small goals to a "destination". Showing the real progress would be something tangible to me, which is what I need.
For my first goal, I picked a journey from my hometown to Nashville - a total of 273 miles. Now so far, I've only done 3 of those miles since starting yesterday, which is pathetic. It's recommended that people walk 10,000 steps a day to maintain a healthy lifestyle - roughly 5 miles a day. I'm gonna cut myself a little slack since yesterday I could only track what I did on my nightly walk (if you haven't seen this tracker, do it. It's AWESOME.) But I definitely need to get my ass moving. Not sure how long this will take, but it'll definitely be interesting to see if this works!

It was a dark and stormy night -- scratch that.. It was rainy, kinda gray, and in the middle of rush hour traffic. As I sat through "stop and go and stop some more" traffic, something caught my eye. To my right was a Ford Explorer with a very distinctive personalized licensed plate. When I see a personalized plate, there's usually a few things that come to mind. For example, "Yeah, dream on buddy", "WTF is that supposed to mean?", "They can have THAT, but I was denied Monkee?", and the rare "So that's the person out of all the people in the state that scored that one...nice."
What happened this particular evening was more in the vein of the last two. You see, the license plate simply read "GOD".
I was speechless for a few seconds, then gave it a second look. Yup, that was "GOD". I'm not sure how someone was allowed to nab God, but good for them. That's when the jokes began to pop in my head.

"Oh. OH. So God drives a gas-guzzling SUV, hmm? "Always pictured him as more of a hybrid type-deity."

And then, "If that's God, who would HIS co-pilot be?"
That's when it happened.
The car in front of me was turning right onto a street, when his car just stopped moving. That meant that I had to make my car stop moving right away. My foot stomped on the gas, kicking in the ABS. But my car wasn't stopping, but rather skidding. A hybrid of words and yelps can out of my mouth as I tried to wrangle my car back into control. It finally stopped, but I couldn't tell if I had hit the other vehicle or not. As I pulled off the road behind the other driver, I realized that all of this happened right in front of a police officer. I was cursing my luck under my breath as I hopped out to check with the other driver. To my absolute shock, both cars were unscathed. Apparently my vehicle had merely grazed off the side of his car, leaving no damage. This was a warning shot, no doubt.
As we hopped back into our respective cars and drove away, me passing the officer who was still waiting to turn at the light, I had one fleeting thought:

"Okay, maybe it was wrong, but you still have to admit it was funny."

Well, don't we all?

Subject: Thievery
Message:
Hi [name removed]!
[Name removed] tells me that I should let you know of some shenanigans that went down. I had 2 microwave meals in the freezer last week. They were there Friday before I went home sick. Today, they seemed to have vanished. I am understandably annoyed. As in, I can't promise I won't pelt frozen apple blossoms* at the offender. In fact, I'm drafting plans for a trebuchet right now.
I've attached an image to further detail my feelings.
Thank you.

Attached image:

*A pastry-type food, often stored in the breakroom freezer.

Over the course of the last several years, I've come to a very abrupt conclusion about my life: I lack passion. I'm not talking about passion in the "do the sexy times" sense, but rather that sort of passion that gets one all riled up to do something. In my younger years, I would get overly-passionate over just about any cause and I would not stand down from my opinion. I remember my teen years, when I was beyond irked over the use of a Native American mascot for my high school's sports teams. I'd get pissed off and grumble and refuse to participate in pep rallies and voice my feelings to anyone nearby. It's not that I feel using Native Americans as sports mascots is a great thing these days, I just don't feel so worked up about it to protest. As I got older, I was ready to protest any sort of injustice. Beyond that, my temper got a little more fiery and it was pretty likely that I would come to blows if necessary to defend my beliefs. (Okay, even beyond beliefs..if I were pissed off enough.) These days...don't really see the point. I'll take verbal jabs when necessary, but that fieriness is all but gone. Part of it is that I just don't have that attention span to really care that much. But I think another part is just good ol' fashioned jadedness.
Growing up in the 90s, it seemed like we were part of a generation that was really going to make changes. CLEARLY the older people just didn't "get it". We blamed them for the ills of the planet and were determined to fix things. And yet, almost 20 years later, shit is still broken, metaphorically speaking. Major companies are just now bragging about going green when the rest of use were pushing Reduce-Reuse-Recycle. AIDS is still being spread around and teens still haven't figured out the safe sex mantra. Corporations and people alike seem greedier than ever while the structures of the economy seem to be crumbling. These are people MY age who bought cars and houses they couldn't afford and lusted for more material items. What the fuck happened? How did we go from trying to change things to perpetuating the problem? We've become self-centered douchebags and are helping feed the egos of countless more generations of self-centered douchebags.
True, I am probably glossing over the larger issues at the center of this mess we now find ourselves in. I suppose my disillusionment is something of a beast at this point. I don't mean to imply that I don't feel strongly about certain issues; I just lack the desire to really pursue these issues beyond holding that belief. What would the point be?

I had started this year with the best intentions. Although I'm not one for New Year's resolutions that are rarely kept, I wanted to give myself a list of goals for 2009. Not stuff like "I will not eat cake", but something with more meaning; something that would ultimately work towards fulfillment on a higher level than my pants size. (There's a joke in there, I'm almost positive of that.) So that was my first approach to the New Year- a list! I maybe spent a whole 2 minutes pondering over said list until I inevitably got distracted by some shiny object and all motivation I had was swept away in the mental hurricane in my head. Sure, I've had those random two seconds here and there where I think I should really get around to this damn list already, but it has yet to happen. So now, in April, I am forced to rethink my strategy and find some new approach. I've decided to instead make a list of the things I do manage to accomplish this year, so on December 31 when I'm pondering where the year went, I can look back and say "hey, I kicked some ass this year!". I'm almost positive that this method will allow me to end the year on a high note, regardless of the current economic situation and whatever else happens. Of course, this new plan is not without its own cons: I still need to actually write stuff down in order to keep track. In essence, I'm setting myself up for failure.
Well, I thought it sounded like a good plan at least.

I'll be completely honest here; I'm not entirely sure how normal people manage. By normal, I mean people who maintain sort-of extracurricular activities beyond work while balancing a family life. I keep my schedule to a bare minimum and I barely find the time to handle that load. Get up, get the kids up, get ready for work, take the kid to daycare, get to work, get home, dinner, clean up, get the kid to bed, time for the other kid to go to bed, exercise, get to bed. And yet there are people that toss in book clubs and parties and girls night out and sports clubs and scout meetings...how the hell do they do it? Seriously? I have two kids' soccer teams looming out in the horizon and already my brain is spinning trying to think how I will manage to keep things toppling down on me. I will admit that time management has never, ever been my strong point - after all, it's been HOW LONG since I last posted? But I just don't see where to squeeze out more time, except by perhaps eliminating some hours of sleep. Clearly I missed some sort of super-multitasking 101 course or something.
I guess I should just suck it up and stop whining. I'm just awed that people are capable of running like machines and DON'T go completely insane. I can't help it...I like having scheduled xbox time to kill off a few hundred zombies. It's training, you see. Training for the inevitable. Oh yes...

I was sitting at work, doing my thing (which I do quite well, if I may interject), when I received a phone call on my direct line. (I specify direct line as most people who need to reach me know to call my mobile phone and not a desk or home phone, which tends to result in my staring at the phone blankly thinking "What is this beast and why is it shrilling at me?" Sometimes, I try to find the "ignore" option on the home phone, but alas...there is none. So for the purposes of this story, it was my desk phone that rang.)
I picked up the line, expecting it to be my husband since 99% of the time he is the only person to call my office line. Not having to deal with people on a daily basis has its perks, you know. There was a pause, and I repeated the standard "Hello?" greeting, but this time with an air of trepidation. It could, after all, be an ACTUAL person I would have to converse with in a strictly professional manner. The caller began to speak, utter one word that threw me into a mental panic "Spanish?" At first, I tried to convince myself that he was asking for someone named "Spanish". Certainly he wasn't expecting me to remember three years of high school Spanish and a few Nickelodeon shows to exchange meaningful dialogue? Ah, but he was. He answered "Um..Spanish?" to my partially freaked out "What?" In the next few nanoseconds, my mind raced and poured through what tangents I did remember from Spanish class, but nothing seemed to fit. How the hell did I convey to him "that I only had three years worth, and, honestly, the last one being a good 13 years ago. Surely my linguistic prowess in such things is non-existent!"
I cleared my throat and said "No" with as much sympathy and condolence as I could muster. Yet, it typical jackass manner, I managed to say it with an accent. I wasn't aware one could accent a one-syllable word such as "no", but I pulled it off. I could hear my subconscious justify this atrocity "Well, maybe if I say it like it's a Spanish word, he'll understand me." Of course he would freaking understand me. He was probably expecting either "no" or "sí". The caller hung up the phone and then it occurred to me "if only I knew how to say "But I'll find someone who does!" in Spanish. It also occurred to me that I could have accidentally said the few words I do know and have confused the man, so I'm feeling pretty good that I didn't. Way to go self. Way to not be a complete jackass this time!

Pure goodness.

My brother made the comment the other day that my blog looked lonely and envious of my Twitter. I guess I have enjoyed the convenience provided by Twitter for quick and easy quips and observations instead of having to collect all those random thoughts into a lucid paragraph. I'll admit it- I'm greedy with the Twitter. As is the case quite often with me, I went into stimulus overload. Once again, I got my mind going into more directions that I keep up with. I'm really enjoying my career and the positive changes in it over the course of the last few months, but adjusting to a new job and a new course of work proved to be more tiring than I thought it would be. I think part of that is due to some pressures at the job in the form of deadlines. Luckily I work in an environment that keeps me grounded and remembering that no one is defibbing on a crash cart at our job; ie, anything can be dealt with in stride. It's hard to see it from that angle when you're knee deep in it, but it's a refreshing outlook that I have to work on adopting as my own. The man thinks I freak out way too easily and I'm inclined to agree with him. Problem is, I'm not really sure how to NOT freak out, considering it's all second nature to me. Or is it first nature? What the hell kind of stupid phrase is that anyway?
I have a long list of things I want to accomplish or just flat out do for the sake of non-accomplishing- related matters. Time management is not my forte. Neither is an accute attention span for that matter. Hell, the only reason this is getting posted now is because I figured out how to post via my bberry. Hehe.

I may be extra giggly tonight, following an email from one of my brothers that can only be described as something a drunk person would pen, except there's a 95% chance he was completely sober at the time.
Then I received this video from the husband that just completely did me in:

(And yes, it totally made my day.)

Came across this today while on my way to grab a coffee:

I know I shouldn't find it as amusing as I do, but this is one of the greatest acts of vandalism I have come across...ever.

Well because of Wil Wheaton, I found myself watching Lil J Showstopper on You Tube. I should probably elaborate on that, but nah...it's a good sentence the way it is. Relish it. Embrace it. I just blamed something on Wil Wheaton. YEAH!
So anyway, Lil J was a sad, sad picture of the youth of today, and really not worth posting here. But somewhere along the lines, I came across my absolute fav "remix" video EVER. (I think I had this posted on Monkeythoughts V01, but those days are long gone.)

Enjoy Bubb Rubb, Lil Sis, and the WHOO WHOO!

This is the face of a vicious attack dog:

You're scared. You know it's true.

And the pathetic....

And the delusional...and the psycho...and yet...funny all the same.
Some people just don't *get* it.

If you're one of the people that didn't crash the server a few days ago to see "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog", I highly recommend checking it out before it's gone. From the mind of Joss Whedon (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly), it's a 3-part musical comedy. Neil Patrick Harris is stellar as Dr Horrible, a villain trying to get his foot in the door at the Evil League of Evil. Felicia Day (of The Guild (among other things), which is a hilarious online sitcom that I also recommend, especially if you're a gamer) also turns out a great performance as Penny, the girl of Dr. Horrible's dreams.
It is definitely worth the watch!

I have this reoccurring theme in my dreams.
It involves the last play I was in my senior year of high school. In the dream, I have to perform the role again, but it's been this same span of time and I cannot remember my lines. I start freaking out that I'm on stage performing and having no idea what happens next and I'm desperately trying to find ways to improvise my way through the role.
I'm sure it has deep meaning, considering I get this theme during certain times of my life. Unfortunately, I haven't paid attention to what times so I can't figure out what the connection is to my waking life.

Find more videos like this on AdGabber

That is shenanigans. My cat does not stand for such things. Heck, when I push him off my yoga mat, he attacks me.
(He's actually quite mild-mannered, but does not put up with any sort of bs.)

I stumbled on this video (which amazingly never made it into my inbox...no one loves me apparently). I don't know why, but with the sappy Aerosmith ballad, I found myself giggling and thinking "this is a joke right?" I was actually prepared and waiting to see the lion maul the folks, but alas...it was just a sappy video.
Watch it and try not to get all sappy yourself. (Unless you're like me and expecting things to go horribly wrong.)

What is life without a nemesis or two? A few years back, I embraced the fact that I had to deal with someone I refer to as my Arch Nemesis. My arch nemesis used to tick the hell out of me, and I took solace in venting through various online outlets about the jackassery I had to deal with. Lately, I could care less about this arch nemesis, who's been downgraded to just a minor annoyance, a mere eye-roll. So there was an empty spot to fill in my life.

Enter a old nemesis.

......

Okay, so the old nemesis never actually bothers me except when I happen to read stuff about her. Then I start twitching. Old nemesis is from back in the day and honestly, not that bad of a person. So why have I crowned her as a nemesis? Frankly, I missed the conflict. I need someone to shake my fist in the air at and curse the gods about. It provides yin to my yang....or is that yang to my yin? Regardless...it keeps life in balance. Although today, I ended up hiding under my blanket in a seriously funked out mood. Sure, I'll be irritated for the next few days (mind you, over absolutely nothing), but I'll be fine after getting it out of my system.

As I said to a colleague earlier today, maturity is overrated.

Me: "I'm 30 yrs old and I got no cool nickname"
My brother: "The Leopard."

rawr.

I was sitting at my kitchen counter tonight faced with a bit of a dilemma. A dilemma in the form of a really bad batch of brandy sitting on my fridge, ever since that night I thought it'd be good to have a drink. It was bad...really quite awful. I'm the type of person who enjoys the "hard" stuff more than a beer, but this was just putrid. I wasn't sure what exactly to do with this brandy; throwing it out would surely be alcohol abuse and yet there was no way I could drink it again. (I'm allowed to make alcohol abuse jokes by the way. It comes with the territory of having a recovering family member- endless supplies of jokes for therapeutic purposes.) I even googled 'What can I do to make shitty brandy taste good?" Seriously. That led me to my ah-ha moment. I caught a comment about someone liking brandy in their coffee, which made me remember just how much I love it when someone spikes MY coffee. So bam! In a cup of coffee the brandy went. I gotta say, while I prefer other liquors in my coffee, it's not half bad. I win!

One of the best spiked coffees I've ever had was not a spiked coffee. It is called the "Lucky Coffee". It's "sambuca negra or sambuca romana in a steamed snifter with espresso beans afloat (to be eaten) & a complimentary coffee". See, they trick you. I love Sambuca, but it knocks me on my ass every time. The coffee came in handy, let me tell you.

Two weeks ago, the husband and I were out to breakfast and I mentioned how I just want to look at dogs afterwards. He was all for it and started constructing fantasies of us surprising the kids with a dog, so I stressed again- I just wanted to look. We had entertained the thought of getting a dog, but having grown up with dogs and therefore enjoying the ease of care that having a cat requires I wasn't overly eager to take on that commitment. We drove out to the local SPCA to look at the dogs up for adoption. One in particular caught my eye. She was a lab/retriever mix and seemed really happy to see us, but her kennel-mate snapped at her and she retreated away from the fence to mope. I went to the counter to get more info on her, just out of curiosity, and was told that she was about a year old, housebroken, good with kids, good with other animals- and she had been adopted TWICE by the same woman (and subsequently returned each time). The reasoning was that she was "wild". Of course, having grown up with as many as six dogs at any given time, I was accustomed to all sorts of temperaments as well as some training, so the wildness didn't phase me. After much discussion, we decided we couldn't let this poor dog spend another night in the pound and decided to adopt her. She has been so loving and goofy, and reminds me a LOT of a previous dog I had as a teen. Sure, she gets overly excited and needs some leash training, but nothing so horrible that it couldn't be overcome with some training.
Anyway...here is the newest member of the family, our dog Bella:

Enjoy.

I've decided that Emily enjoys depressing me with Myspace posts of dogs in need of adoption and fostering, all of which I feel really helpless in saving. But one of her posts today really struck me, and I felt the need to get it out there in case anyone browsing by can help.

Meet Sniffles:

The little dude was born without a nose and has some teeth missing. He's located in a Georgia shelter and the vet says he's happy and healthy. He's in need of a foster home (and I would assume a nice loving forever home).
There's something so freaking adorable about him, though he reminds me of the Predator without his mask (it's the under-bite). That just makes him all the more awesome to me.
I don't have any other info on him, but you can contact Heather via heatherkballance at yahoo dot com if there's any way you can help.

This is all kinds of awesome:

PS- The best Muppet movie was The Great Muppet Caper, hands down.

The problem with being a cat owner is that they don't really make a lot of cutesy outfits to dress your cat up with. There's a reason for that...it's because cats don't like to put up with that kind of shenanigans.
I did happen to come across some 'hats' designed for cats and I had to get them. It was a totally useless impulse buy- seriously, what do I NEED cat hats for?
This is what happens when I put these adorable hats on my unsuspecting cats:

Pez, with a lion hat, really trying to pretend I'm not there



Sake, with a giraffe hat, plotting out my destruction

Sure, a New Kids on the Block reunion is unintentionally funny to think about. But I would be lying if it didn't make me giggle with girlish delight. I did, after all, dedicate a good portion of my early adolescence to collection Teen Bop posters and buttons and t-shirts all smothered with the face of Joe McIntyre. (He was way cuter than Jordan, no lies.) I remember that fateful day when I decided I would like them. Seriously, I decided to like them. All the girls at school and my best friends were on their way to becoming groupies while I absolutely detested the band. Feeling a bit more socially awkward than usual, as is the case when you're a tall, brainy 12 year old with glasses, carrying around so-called 'baby fat' and a bad spiral perm, I decided to give into peer pressure and force myself to like them. And sure enough, when I did, I ended up with more than one female friend that year. Yes, 6th grade was a great year. Then 7th sucked. And in 8th, I ended up befriending a bully that I had to deal with for the entire elementary school run and we found out that neither one of us sucked as bad as we thought each other did. In fact, we even had a nice hug at our 'graduation' as we were going to different high schools. Sigh. Memories. High school kicked some ass though. That's right, I actually enjoyed high school. Considering I had put up with bullshit for 8 years of my life, I think I was entitled to enjoying myself. I give credit to the track system my high school had, so I was no longer the 'smart girl', but a regular girl in classes with other equally smart people. Emily will totally rat me out and bring up the point that when they highlighted the "top 6%" at our graduation, I was rank 11 out of the top 11. The dumbest of the smartest. HA! There is a small part of me that thinks they made it top 6% and not top 5% just because they liked me and felt sorry for me.

This has nothing to do with the fact that NKOTB is reuniting and I would like to take this opportunity to inform my husband that should they tour and come this way, we will TOTALLY be going. MUHAHAHA!

For the memories:

This

...where I should have mentioned I was playing a video game.

Me: I AM STUCK IN A STAIRWELL! AIEEE
: why are you stuck in a stairwell?
Me: Cause I can't find the door out. And I have no flashlight
: seriously?
: do you want me to call the fire dept?
Me: Well, in silent hill 2
Me: hehe
: A HOLE
Me: Call them...tell them the game lies and I can't find the door
: I thought you were really stuck
Me: lmao..i'm sorry
Me: that would be awesome though
: it's okay
: I wasn't too concerned because i figured you had your laptop
Me: WIRELESS BABY!

Twenty minutes later, I finally found the door. Another twenty mins later, I found the flashlight. Five minutes after that, I figured out how to pick up the flashlight. I am a Playstation genius I tell you.

I stumbled upon this little ditty today:
Garfield Minus Garfield

Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolor disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life? Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against lonliness and methamphetamine addiction in a quiet American suburb.

I have to say, reading some of the more bizarro-hilarious ones such as this or this or this reminds me of one of my brothers. Ahem. Sometimes. When he's hopped up on too much Arby's.

We've decided to leave our humble apartment and move to a humble, but totally ass-kicking townhouse that has hardwood floors, a backyard and a freaking DISHWASHER. And I have about a week to pack everything up and get ready to go. I've gotten about 6 boxes so far, which seems like a lot to me, but is quite evidently not much at all as I still have miscellaneous shit everywhere. No matter what I pack, I'm convinced I'm making a huge mess, and that makes me tick even more.
I've made a list of everything to do and it's not boding well with my crazy side. Too much to do, too little time. But if I had too much time, I wouldn't do a damn thing with it. I'm a classic procrastinator. Even if I'm going on a vacation, I tend to pack 5 mins before I'm supposed to be running out the door. I don't know what it is about me. Regardless, I'm determined to do this as organized as possible.

In other news, I have no idea where I put my Netflix movies. It's quite annoying. I've had them in the same place for a month and they are suddenly not there. I'm guessing that I decided I had a better place to put them, but I just failed to keep myself in the loop of communication. That totally sounds like me. Doing things without letting me know.

Oh my...forget McMansions or cul-de-sacs in manufactured neighborhoods.
THIS is the house I want:

How awesome would that be? You just need a wizard or so to really complete the whole "look". And maybe a small pony.
Read all about this awesome home here : http://www.simondale.net/house/index.htm

It would not be a stretch to say that this year started out a bit rocky. And by bit rocky, what I mean is that someone was enjoying a laugh at my expense. That's not to say it was all bad. I did have some really good moments and achievements, so I've stayed positive for the most part.
Lately though, I've been unable to get myself out of my stressed/panicky mode. I feel like my heart is racing a lot of the time, and I can't get to sleep normally. I guess I'm bracing myself for the next thing, but man, I'm driving myself crazy. I had been feeling pretty good earlier this year, but now I'm back to feeling run down and exhausted and just on edge a lot.
I really need to figure out how to relax and stop working myself up over nothing.

Stumbled upon this today- http://www.zombiechannel.com/node/3

Some of my favs:

If you are searching for something which caused a loud noise and you find out it’s just the cat, leave the room immediatey if you value your life.

If your car runs out of gas late at night, don’t go to the nearby deserted looking house to call for help. Likewise if your car has broken down, and the only refuge for miles is that creepy old mansion/castle on the hill. Stay in the car.

If you are fleeing from a killer or supernatural being and you see a cop car, run right by it. There are three possible ways that things will turn out if you try to get the cops attention and none are good: # A. The cop is already dead in some gruesome way that will cause you to scream and alert the killer/monster as to where you are. # B. The cop will probably end up dead as he tries to help you, this will only distract the killer away from you for a few seconds, but chances are you will end up getting killed anyway. # C. The supernatural being has assumed the form of a cop and just when you think you are safe…he will kill you

If the killer is standing three feet in front of you, don’t just stand there and scream while he comes running towards you. It may comes as a shock, but he DOES in fact want to kill you.

Girl Scout cookies have an Official Myspace Page.

Once again, now that I actually have time to breathe and notice what is going on around me, I find myself craving intellectual and artistic inspiration. I've never been one for really precise time management, so when the whirlwind that is work suddenly stops, I find myself feeling lost. What am I to do with all this free time now that I no longer need my blackberry super-glued to my hand? Sure, World of Warcraft is fun and all, but it isn't fulfilling the stimulation I need. I have ideas, lots of ideas, but feel dazed as to how to execute them. Not to mention my already short attention span feels shot to hell.
My main problem seems to be that I have mental lists of things I want to do and need to do, but no plan of action. Anytime I contemplate a plan, I feel frustrated immediately.
Maybe what I need is just a few days to recoup and get my thoughts in order. THEN perhaps I'll be able to relax and do something with my free time.

Dove pounces with an equally strong follow-up piece to their Evolution film.

Check it out here:

I believe I've been at my current residence for about 3 1/2 years now. I had no intention of really moving until I could afford a house or whatnot. The location is fantastic; not so thrilling as far as school choices go, but I have a 2 grocery stores and a plethora of other stores within a short walking distance. (The two grocery stores in the same plaza still baffles me, but not as much as the fact that they attract completely different categories of clientèle.)
Anyway, although I've had the idea of moving for a school that is not a 20 min drive for a year or so, I really didn't want to be bothered with the task. Mainly, the task of cleaning everything and packing and moving. The mere thought makes me twitch.
Unfortunately, for the past few weeks, it has become evident that the neighbors have shifted to less than ideal. "2 AM on a school night shouting matches in the parking lot" type of less than ideal. "Perhaps now is a good time to call the cops" type of less than ideal. These aren't the neighbors I bunk with, but they are neighbors somewhere within the vicinity, and it has become an all too common occurrence to debate whether I scream "Shut up you stupid bastards" or simply ignore it. How any person can be so unbelievably loud is still a matter up for investigation. The stupidity and inconsideration for fellow human beings is not as much as mystery, sadly. So I'm basically down to whether or not I can tolerate shouting matches that using begin with classy starting points such as "I ain't ever.." and whether the interruption is enough to warrant the mess involved with moving.
Another point to consider is that I have neither a dishwasher nor W/D hookups, which my boss assures me is point enough to move.

It's always good to have at least one drunk post, even if it takes twice as long due to correcting typos.

3/4 bottle of mojito
2 shots pucker- blue
2 or possibly 3 margaritas

I am now watching the BBC which is just freaking hilarious in this state. (it's funny any way, but pee-inducing hilarious now)

I'm sifting through stock photos and have noticed a ridiculous amount of photos involving "business people" shouting through megaphones.
Is there some massive demand for this sort of imagery or something?

So I was on one blog and got directed to another where I came across a link to this little gem of a story:
Hey Nike, Just Don't Do It!

Yes, it's about 6 years old, but it amused me nonetheless. Being a big fan of horror movies (and a woman), I cannot fathom how someone could take this commercial and see something negative about it. It's a parody for crying out loud. And a parody of movies in which the girl victim usually ends up tripping over her feet when she runs and doing something stupid. So in that sense, it's a positive spin on the situation. Of course, I don't want to get that analytical about it. Obviously, it was just jokes.

Sometimes it seems there are some groups of people who would rather play the victim role and whine about it than moving on and rising above.

The following was written over the course of two hours of being trapped in a parking garage:

----

It's been an hour now since we got stuck in the parking garage. Five
cars have managed to escape. I wish them god speed. The rest of us are
still stuck. We have no rations and this is beginning to trouble me.
Not as much as the thought of no restroom. Every few minutes, I hear
an agonizing 'woohoo!' Dear god, what are they doing to these people?

----

The other people have decided to revolt. They have been laying on
their car horns in what I can only surmise to be a desperate attempt
to get someone's attention and let us out. It has absolutely no
effect.

----

Several more cars have gotten out. From my view on the second level,
it doesn't look promising. Especially since there are several
jackasses standing outside their car instead of inside with the engine
running.

----

I'm starting to get anxious. These people would suck in a zombie
apocalypse. Again, another revolt. Good luck on this attempt.

----

Seriously? WHY ISN'T ANY ONE MOVING? WHAT KIND OF HALF ASSED OPERATION
IS THIS? LET ME OUT DAMMIT

----

Two hours till we were allowed to exit the garage. By this time, the streets were virtually empty leaving no damn reason why everyone was trapped inside for that long.
Thank god for ipods and bberries.

http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/ver/223/popup/index.php?cl=3995715

Nothing says "I WANT" more than a cup o' joe with a monkey on it. Why does all the cool shit need to happen in a city other than where I live?

*grumble*

Dude: What do you mean you like hockey? Are you Canadian?

Girl: No. I wish I was.

Dude: Well, you CAN'T be.

A strong argument with many valid points. Take that hockey-lover!

Whoever decided "free anal sex hemorrhoids" was a good bulletin board spam topic CLEARLY did not think it out all the way through.

Just the mental image alone is disturbing.

I saw an ad for Alli in a magazine. As I skimmed over it, I caught the phrase "treatment effects". Intrigued, I read more.
Well, it turns out the effects are things like the shits or oily discharges. So, essentially, the pill works like such: You take it, you eat healthy, or you will shit yourself. It forces people to eat less fat out of the fear of the shits.

It's so simple and brilliant.

How it was approved by the FDA is beyond me.

This is keeping me oddly entertained.

To be completely, utterly, without a doubt, insane

Enjoy.

I hate that term. So why do I insist on using it?

This was mentioned in CaffiNation's recent podcast (kick ass podcast, by the way) and considering I had just had a conversation about Eddie Izzard not more than 2 hours prior to listening to the podcast, I thought it was a zany coincidence. And since I dig Eddie Izzard, I thought "Hell, I'm a gonna post that".

I'm digging his new show The Riches too. Good stuff.

Dog and Monkey 4ever

If there's one person who I wish would not have articles written about them, it would be...

Surprisingly, not Paris Hilton, or Anna Nicole, or Britney...

But Rosie O'Donnell. Yes. I am tired of hearing her views on every topic and how it relates to her. What's that? Someone died? Quick! What does Rosie have to say about this?? Britney's in rehab...quick, someone ask Rosie!

Aside from all that...I'm come across excerpts from her blog once and had to check for myself to really get the full effect. Now I'm not one to speak in terms of grammar, etc, but Rosie's blog is so painful to "read". It's like reading a 12 year old's Live Journal, assuming that 12 year old is a girl who is a fan of emo and is failing/barely passing school.

Yeow. I think at some point (and that point being almost 45), it should be a illegal to write like a pre-pubescent.

I once worked with this woman who reminding me of Rosie. I ran into her last year. And here's what I have to say to her:

ahem...

big head
stupid laugh
i have ur yearbook still
ur not getting it back
ever
hahaha

I was reading an article in the UK edition of People just now. I read a few lines in my head and stopped. Something wasn't right. Read a few more. Stopped. What IS that? Then I realized- I was reading it with a British accent. In fact, I couldn't read it without hearing a British accent in my head. (Am I the only person that "hears" things in her head when she's reading or typing? God, I hope this is a normal occurrence.)
I'm a little ashamed of myself at the moment. Just how long have I been going on faking accents in my head?

I was recently contacted by an acquaintance of mine who does the whole real estate thing. We were talking shop and I admitted to him my reservations about owning a house. When he asked what my hesitation was, I said "I have a fear of commitment."
He then pointed out how weird that was, considering that I am married and have two kids.
I paused for a moment and answered with "Yeah...not sure how that happened." Such is the contradiction that I am.

While I think it would be nice to be able to paint a room red with metallic stripes if I damn well wanted to, I tend to think about the bigger picture. The bigger picture meaning "I'd be stuck in the same damn place for a loooong time." It's not like I have any plans to move anywhere, but I like to have that option, I think. And plus, if something breaks I wouldn't know the first thing about it. Wiring, plumbing, roofing, termites. No freaking clue. And what if I buy a house and then 10 years from then the neighborhood turns to ass? See, this is what I think about. I'm just not ready to take that plunge yet and I keep convincing myself that over and over. One day I may give in. Just not yet.

I'm not entirely sure what the hell is wrong with me sometimes, but I don't think I'm "all there" so to speak.

The other day, I received a text message from my brother which stated that he had seen me on the news. I immediately thought "Oh shit, they found me!" and had a few seconds of genuine panic. I had no idea who "they" might be, or what the hell I would possibly be in trouble for, but I panicked nonetheless. Then it occurred to me to maybe ask what for, as I didn't recall being around any news cameras recently. (Turns out I was, just not aware of it.)

Then there was the incident about 2 weeks ago. I was attempting to call my mom during an ice storm and got the "all circuits are busy" message. Do I think "Hmm...must be because of the storm?" No, of course not. I think "Shit! The zombie apocalypse is here!"

There are times that I feel not one rational thought runs through my head.

And then there was the issue I had yesterday with the date. I kept trying to date my checks in January. Yet I couldn't remember just what date in January it was. What the hell have been doing the past few weeks that I erased a whole month out of my mind? A birthday month, no less. Course, it was 3 AM when that happened.

I still don't have an explanation for the other things though.

So the resemblance is not quite there...

BUT I GOT A SWORD:

-There is nothing quite as unnerving as attempting to eat frozen yogurt in front of my cats. It's an almost impossible feat and if one succeeds it is done while being glared at.

-I just found out today that Chilean sea bass is neither Chilean, nor a sea bass.

-I kinda feel sorry for this guy.

That is all.

I freaking love my birthday.
It's like a national celebration of me.
WOO! BIRTHDAY!

But I have to say...I'm feeling a little ripped off. Nothing cool comes with 29. Except maybe a discount on my car insurance. I don't get any special powers though. Not that I did last year either. *sigh*

After digging my car out of the snow this morning, I made a quick stop to the grocery store. I walked into the store and starting picking up the goods I wanted when I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. As I shoved my hand in my pocket to retrieve it, my fingers brushed against the packet of hot cocoa mix that I had put in there on the way. This would be the same individual packet that I had purchased from the very store a few days ago. Immediately I panicked. What if someone checked my pockets? How would I get out of that one once they discovered I had a packet of cocoa with no receipt. My mind started spinning around all the scenarios and possibilities and what I would say.
Then it occurred to me.
It's a 33 ¢ packet of cocoa.
Why the hell would they search me for it? It's not like I was walking around and sticking shit in my pockets.

I think my mental issues are a great source of self entertainment.

Well...What a week it's been. Last week, I had a typical "so out of the loop, I can't even see it" moment when I found out that my son's school was potentially shutting down. This didn't sit well with me for many reasons. First off, I rather like his school. Second, I spent about 3 years researching schools before making this decision. I kid you not. He was scarcely a toddler when I starting looking at schools. From state report cards to extracurricular activities to teacher/student ratios, I was looking at everything. I finally found the one I liked, and now they want to close. What the hell? And I'm supposed to magically stop being neurotic and find a backup school in a matter of months. Yeah, right.
Anyway, I've gotten on the whole crusade to save the school and I find I'm doing..well...work. To some degree, it feels like I haven't left work. I'm telling them what to do with their data and convulsing over the thought that they don't have consolidated up-to-date databases for things. (In fact, if you want to make me convulse, just utter the words "the information is scattered in bits and pieces. I'm not sure who has what.") I'm trying not to get in over my head, but I have a feeling I'm going to end up devoting more and more time to this.
For the record, I'm blaming the man who ruined Christmas.

I've commented in the past about how the hallway in the apartment building tends to smell funny. It never smells pleasant like the adjacent building. (I swear, that one smells like flowers.) Typical odors- ass, spaghetti, asian food, fish, crotch and any various combination of those.
But today is the worst smell of all.
I walked out of the apt on my way to work and was hit with it. I returned three hours later and the smell was still there. Two hours after that, I returned (again) and the smell was STILL there.
Then I started thinking...that smell...reminds me of something. But what? Garbage perhaps. Ah no... it could possibly be the distinct odor of decomposition.
I started thinking which one of my neighbors I haven't seen in a while, but then I realized we're not exactly a social able bunch to begin with. (In other words, I've seen maybe 1 of them in the past 3 days.)
I'm tempted to ask the manager to do a body check to make sure no one is...well...you know. Cause that smell will not go away. Reminds me of the time my dad decided to dispose of a dead critter temporarily directly under my bedroom window, which was opened and had a fan blowing in. Nasty.
In the meantime, I can only speculate.

Diddy sneaks a peek

God bless him.

Weeeeeeeee! (Gonads & Strife)

As dumb as this sounds, this video has some fond memories from back in the day. I completely forgot about it and stumbled upon it just now.
If it wasn't for the "gonads and strife", I doubt I would crack a smile. But gonads and strife makes me giggle...a lot...

I'm getting really antsy lately. It's only mid-Jan and I'm already stir crazy. There is just way too much shit in my head right now and I have no outlet really. (I don't mean a "talking" outlet...more like "I need something to hit").
I went to the dentist the other day and was told that I would need not one, but two root canals. Never had one before, but based on how I've seen people react, it didn't strike me as a good thing. But you know..I couldn't give a shit about the pain. I've felt freaking pain before. The list of "painful things I've endured" could go on for a bit- although jamming my finger in something is the only one guaranteed to make me curse a whole hell of a lot in very creative ways, which is kinda funny. What gets me about the root canal(s) is the amount of money I'll end up paying out of pocket. I guess I'll find out the real cost Friday morning when I go in for a really overpriced consult with the only endo-dude on the plan. What the hell.
What burns my ass (ha...midget with a lighter) about this whole thing is the fact that it was completely AVOIDABLE if I wasn't so damn unmotivated about finding a dentist when I changed insurance. Now, I'll be up in that dentist office all the damn time.
And if I even so much as look at sugar, I want to slapped upside my head.

But yes, I'm in a funk. I need something to do. Something exciting. I need a freaking adventure of sorts.

Blggherrrpfff. That's the sound I make when I'm in a funk.

*I don't want this year to go as fast as last, funk or no funk.

Thanks to Justin Timberlake, I received the following email:

Sender: Sexy's Back
Subject: Is your lingerie drawer filled with granny panties?

(I would also like to thank William, for using my email address and ensuring I'm bombarded with 80-100 spam messages a day. It's a fair trade. Life for spam. I'll get him back. One day. When he's 16 and asks to borrow the car.)

As I'm browsing the library's online catalog for books to borrow, I'm thinking to myself:

"Heh...It's amazing that I can even get books out of the library, what with my germ issues and all. Cause of all the...people...who've...touched the book...which isn't disinfected...and they could have taken it in the bathroom with them.. Oh, maaaaaaan."

I'm ready for a new spill of reading. Of course, I'm into vampires and werewolves at the moment (as in nonfiction books). I might throw in some "Once and Future King" or "The Farthest Shore" if I'm feeling sassy.

And if I'm lucky, I'll actually READ the damn things instead of collecting them.
That is assuming I can get over my newfound fear of library books.

I just realized it's well after 4:20 AM. I've been playing WoW for the past..er...shit...7 hours???

I really, REALLY, wanted to level up. It didn't happen, but I'm close.

I also had the extended version of Fellowship of the Ring on. I like the extended versions cause of the whole book design. I actually just purchased Return of the King a few days ago. Total delay there.

Speaking of LOTR, I was looking for those and another book at the library. Not there. But you know what was there? A man who smelled like he shit his pants. He kept following me around but I was able to loose him with my ninja skill. HAHAHAHA. Shitpants lost!

Must...sleep...

Straight out of 1995, the upcoming topic of discussion is...

Learn about how to navigate your computer and different websites.

I wouldn't be surprised if they handed out a cheat sheet of what LOL, BRB and ASL mean. Or perhaps the dangers of MySpace. Or how people in chat rooms just may not be who they say they are.

If it weren't for the fact that I already have plans, I would love to go and play like a total dumbass and really make them work for it. And maybe ask them where I plug my computer into the internets at.

List available here

Now, I enjoy "awesome" and honestly didn't realize that many people used it to the point of overuse. So I need a new word to take the place. Maybe "fantastic" will do. Several years ago, I tried to bring back "fantastico", but it didn't stick with me. Although, I have been using "kick a" instead of awesome lately. That may work just as well.

I would also like to add "wow" to the list. I'm guilty of this one. But generally, it is overused for things that do not need a wow. Maybe "shits, that is crazy!" would be more efficient in some cases. I'm making a mental note to extricate "wow" from my vocabulary.

Also, "assnuts" is the new "asshat" for 2007. So anyone who I refer to as an asshat on a regular basis shall now be assnuts.

Not that I have normal dreams.
But this one was a beaut.

It starts out with me hanging out with Tom Hanks and Dakota Fanning. (Yeah, wtf). Turns out, we're trying to get her away from the likes of Keanu Reeves. They get onto an elevator while I put him in a headlock. I was kicking some serious ass. Once their elevator leaves, I attempt to get into another one, but I have to keep kicking some dude so he doesn't get on too. I go to floor 7, which happens to be some sort of shopping mall. As I'm wandering the mall, I come across a part that's being renovated. It is there that I discover some sort of shopping mall conspiracy, but the bad guys (who happen to be soccer-momish women, detect my presence and start chasing me. I hid in some pit of sauce which is all part of the conspiracy, but I am detected there too. As a bad guy gets in the sauce to get me, I fight like all hell and get out. I run (surprisingly well considering I was just in a vat o' sauce) to the elevator and go to another floor to catch up with Tom and Dakota. They happen to be on the level with a genetics research lab, which somehow ties into the whole conspiracy. We breathe a sigh of relief for figuring it all out and I get proposed to.

Then I woke up. I would like to add that I did not drink/smoke anything prior to going to bed. This all happened naturally.
It's like a Scooot dream.

It usually takes a lot for a person to intimidate me. I think it's cause I'm a jackass and will fight back/run my mouth without thinking first. Such jackassery tends to get me in trouble, but lately I've been a lot better at picking my fights and shutting my fucking mouth. WOO.

I just met the one group of people that terrified the shit out of me by just looking at me.

I went into a beauty supply store, partly because it was there and I hadn't been in there before, and partly cause I was interested in the hair dye goods. Now I've heard stories about the owners. They are generally distrusting people and once chased a naked woman into the parking lot for trying to steal a wig. (I don't know why/how the woman became naked. All I know is it was on video surveillance.)

These were not people to mess with. But I went into the store all the same. Seeing how I just came from another store, I knew it would be best to leave my bags at the counter to avoid any confrontation. So I willingly checked them. After browsing for several minutes, I had to approach the man at the counter and ask about a product. He glared at me and said "You ask her!", pointing to a woman by another counter. I approached the woman and asked her about the product. She commanded me to check a certain aisle. I did, but the product was not to be found. I was now faced with the task of getting my bags from the guy at the counter and leaving without buying anything. I slowly approached the counter. The man glared at me silently. I asked if I could please have my bags. He didn't move at first, but managed to glare even more. Then slowly he picked up my bags and gave them to me, looking suspiciously disgusted with me. I felt really, really bad for not buying anything, but wanted to get the hell out of there. And part of me wanted to assure them that I didn't steal anything. Instead, I damn near ran out, vowing to never go in again.

Man, that was some scary shit.

Nothing says Christmas like a Dixie cup o' wine and a few notes scribbled on an envelop on what presents you were going to get but didn't come in time.
Hehehehe.
I have a Socrates book (and I'm pronouncing it "So Crates" too), so that makes it cool.
I should be sleeping now, but I'm distrustful of one of the cats at the moment. In a few hours, he managed to knock the star off the tree, and possibly a few ornaments as well. And he keeps messing up my display o' presents. Bastard.
We had no milk and cookies this year, so we left a candy cane and root beer for Santa. That's how we roll here. We also just got our tree up at about 3 pm on Christmas Eve. How's that for procrastinating? Taking it down will be another matter. Our record thus far is February or March. All I remember is that the tree was very, very dry and it took a matter of seconds for the apt manager to bang on the door and tell us to vacuum the hallway. We have since then gone with the artificial tree.
Anyway. Merry Christmas. Yeah!

I'm not one for New Year's Resolutions, cause I think "Hey..we should set challenges and goals all the time in our lives...so we can fail more often." Maybe not that last part. But if there's one goal I have this new years, it's not to get completely wasted on New Year's Eve and drunk email everyone I know. You know, what I did last year. I'm also not planning on bleaching my hair into 6 different colors and having to pay well over $100 to get it fixed. Again, like I did last year. Or having to crash at my dad's cause I drank a whole bowl o' wassel (also known as the prelude to the email). (Last year. But hey, that shit was tasty.)
As for next year's plans...if I can take a normal vacation this year that actually involves me taking the fam out of the state to a cool ass place, that would be a hell of an improvement.
So here's to not going out like a damn fool this year. WOO!
God help me if there's wassel available.

I enjoy a chocolate covered pretzel. But a 10-inch pretzel rod dipped in so much chocolate and crap to render it deadly? Even better.
I am now armed with a Pretzel O' Mass Destruction.

I have no desire to eat the thing. I just want to threaten people with it.

Funny enough, I actually thought today was Thursday. Normally, I'm a day behind. Somehow I managed to be a day ahead. Not sure how I pulled that one off.

It's the 7 Lamest Fight Scenes of All Time!

I disagree with Sonny versus Carlo making the list, cause I probably would have bit the bastard too if he was holding on like a pansy ass. And with the Witness one, cause I thought that was awesome. If I was a cop pretending to be an Amish person and someone ice creamed Viggo, I 'd kick ass too.

But #1...man...that's a gem.

Came across this entry and had to share.

I guarantee you when this originally aired I was staying up late with the VCR ready. I'd be ashamed by that fact if I didn't find it so damn funny now.

What to do in a zombie attack:

It came to my attention this evening (i.e., Scooooot was kind enough to mention) that one of my email addresses had a fucked up reply-to address. And by fucked up, I mean it was going to a domain I haven't owned in about 4 years.

What's really bad is that it happened sometime on June 25th, @ 12:35pm and I just now noticed. This explains so much. Except for how the hell it happened in the first place.

The 25th was a Sunday, so I'm not completely ruling out that I may have been drinking at the time.
And somehow, in the minute between normal setup and fucked up set up, I managed to go into my options and change the address to something I would never be able to check. Yeah, that sounds about right.

I can see you...

A haiku to express my feelings.

Ahem...

dear loser fuck face-
i think you should fuck your mom.
she just might like it.

I was feeling bad earlier today and considered going home for a bit. But then I thought "Well shit. I can't go home. There's a bomb over there."

Yeah, it's one of those days.

I wrote this several years ago for USA Today's haiku contest.
Needless to say, I did not win.

Poodle: Purebred shit

See its funny ass

Well, I had a pretty uneventful Thanksgiving, which means no fires. Now I get to enjoy the long weekend in peace.
I made the mistake one year to actually try to shop on "Black Friday". Poor naive me had no idea that people were crazy and greedy and just overall bastards when it came to Christmas shopping for good deals. After that experience, I decided there was nothing worth going through all that for.

MSNBC.com had an article this morning on the shoppers (no surprise there. They have the same damn story every year.)
This particular bunch of paragraphs just made me all warm and fuzzy inside:

Even those who arrived early Friday and waited in line for the doors to open at 5 a.m. were not guaranteed success. Brian Clark, 27, of Bristol left empty-handed after the televisions and computers he’d eyed as Christmas gifts were snatched by earlier shoppers.

Alarmed by a recent shooting of a customer waiting outside a Connecticut Wal-Mart store for Sony’s PlayStation 3, which are almost impossible to find, Clark had tucked his Glock pistol in a holster under his jacket and put extra ammunition in his pocket before heading out early Friday.

*sigh* Nothing says "Tis the season" like a Glock.

It's officially Thanksgiving. Almost 2 AM, actually. I have an overwhelming amount of work to get done to make sure the place is both ready for company and ready for turkey.
To stay focused and calm, I've revisited the incident that occurred last Thanksgiving:

It would be unheard of for Thanksgiving to have gone by smoothly. I planned the meal for 2pm. Around that time, the smoke alarm began to go off. I noticed smoke was quickly filling up the apartment. I knew it wasn't the turkey as I had removed it about 30 mins ago. But I went to the oven which I figured could be the only culprit. Upon opening the door, I saw a rather large fire had started inside the oven, thanks to the drippings that had accumulated by the heating element. My immediate reaction was to think "Hmmmm" and close the oven door. I sat there for a few seconds thinking this situation could not be good when my husband came back in the apt. He saw the fire and freaked, telling me to get water quick. I filled a cup of water up and began to try to figure out why I had this overwhelming feeling that water would not solve things. I took a few steps back and tossed water onto the flames, only to see the fire double in size and shoot out the top of the stove. While my husband ran downstairs to get the fire extinguisher, I closed the oven door again and turned the oven off. That seemed to do the trick, actually, and by the time he returned with the extinguisher the fire was out. So the moral of the story is- don't use water on fires in an electric stove (which makes so much sense now) and sometimes pretending things don't exist will help....

So, basically...as long as I don't set anything on fire this year, Thanksgiving will be a success.

While doing absolutely nothing, I stumbled across a blog post about the "Moms for Modesty". To sum this "movement" up, it basically has to do with moms who object to the production of, well, slutty looking clothes for girls. Now I may not have a girl, but I can understand. Some of the clothes available for little girls are ridiculously inappropriate. Add that with those fucking Bratz dolls and the ol' hotel heiress who got famous for sucking dick on camera, and what the hell are girls supposed to think?

However...
While reading the "pledge" of the Moms for Modesty, this particular bullet caught my eye...eventually (I skimmed the list the first time around) :

I believe that it is unwise and unfair to taunt boys and young men by permitting my daughter(s) to dress in an immodest manner.

Ahem. Unfair? Say wha? Since when are members of the opposite sex not responsible for their actions? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this in the same vein as the "Bitch deserved it, dressing like that" rationalization for rape? One's manner of dress still manages equates sexual desire and how bad a person must want it? Still??
Reminds me of my ex-asshole, who was convinced that any shirt I wore that was shy of being a turtleneck must have been a deliberate step on my behalf to show the entire male population my tits. For the sole purpose of cheating on him, of course. In reality, I can't stand anything too close around my neck. I could never wear turtlenecks or high collars cause I feel really claustrophobic with something too snug. I prefer anything that does not creep too high above my collar bone else I feel like it's going to eat me. (That's the best way I can describe the feeling.)
But no, I must have been trying to get everyone to look at my boobies.

(I just had a thought. I wonder how effective it would be to respond to those "I can't make eye contact. Must talk to boobs" people with a nice, friendly, crotch stare down? Someone must try this and tell me what happens.)

Anyway, I recommend that bullet point be rewritten to read:
I really don't want my daughter to be a cock tease just yet. cause that is essentially what they're saying.

One thing I've noticed about the new kitten (Sake), other than what an adorable little bastard shit he can be, is how he seems to possess the ability to be wherever I am at any given time, yet I never see him move from one place to another. He was in the living room, hanging out. I got up, went into the bathroom and closed the door. A second later I jumped as I felt something hit my leg. It was Sake. After I left the bathroom (and thus opening the door to let Sake out), I heard a bang in the kitchen. I went in to find him messing around in one of the cabinets. How the hell is that even possible? He was just in the bathroom! He'd had to have dashed passed me in a hallway full of laundry, yet I never saw him.
He does the same thing when we go to bed. He'll manage to sneak in the room and hides out until some time has passed. Normally, when I'm ready to drift off to sleep, he crawls up on the bed (from the headboard) and sticks his purring head in my face. It drives me nuts.
And now I've convinced myself that he has some sort of superpower.

Woman practicing Elimination Communication wonders if shitting in a sink is a bad thing

It's not so much the emptying of the child's potty in the sink as opposed to, oh I don't know, the TOILET, as it is this statement:

"I worry a bit though, because when we're out and about I do hold her over bathroom sinks because she likes that better than being held over the toilet"

So next time you go to wash your hands in a public restroom, you can wonder if some whack job decided to let her child SHIT IN THE SINK.

(And if you don't know, Elimination Communication)

I'm so freaking bored lately. I have no interest in doing the usual things. I have less of an attention span than usual. Hell, I'm lucky I can pay attention to the things I NEED to get done on a daily basis. I guess I'm just in a funk at the moment. I love this time of year on one hand, and on the other I don't. I'm still shocked how quickly a year can go by and I feel like I've done nothing. In fact, if someone asked me what I did this year, my answer is nothing. Same with last year.
Of course, I am broke, which puts a hamper on doing things.
Maybe I did something. I don't remember it though.

OJ's book, If I Did It, Here's How It Happened set to go on sale Nov 30.

How is this not funny, in a sick yet surreal way? It's the title that has me shaking my head. I liken it to those movies where the bad guy tells you his master plan and how he executed said plan. Yet in doing so, he gives the hero enough time to foil the plan.
Minus the hero part.
Although I think a better title would have been "I Didn't Kill Them And Am Still Looking For The Real Killer, But Let's Say I Did Kill Them (I Didn't, By The Way), Here's How I Would Have Done It. You Know, If I Killed Them. But I Didn't. And I'm Still Looking For The Real Killer."

I have to admit, I'm very enthusiastic about voting. I suppose one day, I may get voter apathy, but for now, I really love Election Day. That's not to say I have any idea what's going on. I mean, I know things suck, but when there's suck in your own life, you tend to focus on "local" suck moreso than national suck. I wasn't even aware the ballots had changed till I went to the polls today. (And I didn't even get to use the REAL ballot machine thanks to my inattention to updating my name in the voter's registration prior to today. I had to get a provisional ballot, which means they put it in an envelope and threw it away. Or sent it somewhere. Who knows. All I know is that someone other than me got to look over my ballot today.)
So the Monday before election day I use to catch up on what the issues are/who the candidates are. I do a pretty good job of filtering out all those stupid ass campaign commercials. I mean, isn't the mudslinging old by now? At least they should do it in an interesting way and say "Don't vote for Mary Smith! She's a crack whore with VD!" Okay, that's not legal. But it would be funny. Don't even get me started on the "I'm so-and-so and I approve this message" crap. Now where was I? Oh yeah, getting acquainted with the ballot. This year I actually took a voter's guide with me, as I realized counting on my memory for anything is crap.
And I voted. WOO.
Then I told my husband he was voting. Sure, he didn't feel like it. But I didn't give him the option, cause I'm all pro-vote and all. Of course, I didn't consider that he had no idea who was running for who and what the issues were, etc. So he voted based on who had the cooler name. I can't get on him for this. When it came to the judges, I voted based on who didn't have a stupid campaign sign. I don't get the whole voting for judges thing. Being not employed in the legal industry, who the hell am I to say whether or not someone would make a good judge. Do they have a law license? Did they go to school? Do they know shit? Okay, fine, you can be judge. (And on a side note, I never want to be picked for jury duty as I don't feel I possess the qualifications for such a position. I know nothing about the law. Minus the obvious stuff.)
Anyway...I voted, and hopefully the people I voted for won, because I like feeling like I won. And then maybe shit won't suck.

I stumbled across this shirt . Unfortunately, I never was good at the whole "picture instead of words" thing, so at first glance I was thinking to myself "I love rooster and cat?? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Ehh. I'm smarts.

Another Halloween has come and gone, yet neither of my kids were recruited for witchcraft or asked to experiment in the occult . What the hell (or lack, thereof)? In fact, they had a rather safe, fun-filled, candy goodness of a time.
I suppose my kids aren't "cool" enough. Psssht. Whatever.

I stumbled across this entry on the whole issue of stores decorating for Christmas before Halloween is even over.
Word. It's cool to see someone else who's not happy about the rushing of holidays.
(Seriously people, what is so wrong with Thanksgiving? Turkey, pie, mashed potatoes. It KICKS ASS.)
That's not to say I don't love Christmas. But I love Halloween and will dedicate Oct for that. Most of Nov goes to Thanksgiving. When Thanksgiving is over, THEN I will be all Christmas-like. But not a day sooner.
I would suck badly in the retail business.

Nissan's new ad campaign for the Sentra involves some dude living out of it for 7 days.
I had a Sentra. It was nice.
I also lived out of a car once...and I can't imagine anyone wanting to do that. Of course, I highly doubt this dude is actually living out of it. And I lived in mine for more than 7 days. Oh, and I wasn't paid for doing it.
Damn.

A while ago, there was a picture going around that had represented a crapload of bands by various images. (It was a contest actually...forget who sponsored it). This is in that same vein, only using horror movies. Find the movies

It's driving me mad cause my brain likes to analyze too much instead of just figuring out the representation. I'm at 22 out of 50 right now, and it's taken me a while for that. (And I freaking love horror movies. Go figure.)

*Update: I finally found all 50 last night...but jeesh. Some of those clues were damn silly.

I came across this entry on Google's official blog: Do You "Google"?
Like so many other readers, I am truly wondering if this is just an big act or if someone really has their panties in a twist about the word "google" making its way in every day conversation. (Hell, William is even telling us to google things these days.)
Bottom line is if someone is using "google" synonymously for "searching on any other website", they most likely aren't the most tech savvy folks in the first place and really not something Google should be worried about. And like other people have stated, it does reflect on their street cred and throws an unflattering typical big business light on them. But hey. Won't stop me from using them. I love the Google.

Not to sound like a crazy-cat person, but I'm quite impressed with the progress Sake and Pez have made in the past few days. For awhile, I was beginning to think we'd have to accept a life of keeping the cats separate. But a few days ago, Pez was hissing noticably less and just seemed interested in Sake. So we left them out in the same room. There was some stare downs and some slight hissing but when Sake got bored and started playing by himself, Pez seemed to realize "Hey...this little shit could be kinda fun to keep around." And they've been hanging out ever since. Sure, Pez has those moments where I question if he's trying to eat Sake, or if they really are just playing. And he was visibly pissed off when Sake used his litterbox for the first time. Other than that, they're cool, which is a huge relief. Coordinating the whereabouts of the two cats at any given moment was getting to be a real pain in the ass.

Working With Idiots Can Kill You

Right on. Unfortunately, it originated from Weekly World News and therefore...made up.
I have worked with some real idiots in the span of my 13 working years. Some have been harmless and just nice-but-not-bright folks.
Then there's the stupid-and-vidictive folks, the lazy-and-stupid folks, and the stupid-and-unable-to-take-responsibility-for-anything folks. Those are the ones that cause excessive drinking or trying to find ways to get the stress out in a non-violent, non-possible-time-in-jail ways. Not harmful to health my ass.

(Yeah, it's an old article. But a jpg has been making the email rounds, making it look like a real article.)

Hey, I don't work here anymore. Why are you sending me stuff? :)

A few days ago, I made a decision. Being an indecisive person by nature, it was not an easy decision and I'm still wondering if I made the right one.
You see, a coworker had a "porch cat" accompanied by two kittens. We decided, after much consideration, to take in one of the kittens. We had to think about Pez hating other cats, and the cost for taking in a stray kitten ($131 for that first vet visit, in case you're wondering). But it was a cute little kitten and we felt bad for him, so we brought him into our home. Pez is pissed off about it, as expected, but is surprisingly not taking it out on me. (He held a grudge because I "brought home" another child. I assumed he'd be more irritated about another of his kind.) Anyway, this new kitten (named Sake), is a bit more rambunctious than Pez was, even as a kitten. We keep the two separated for most of the time until they get used to each other (which I read could take as long as 18 months in some cases, and never in other cases). My sleep has been interrupted more than once due to Sake deciding to bite me. Mostly, I just feel bad for Pez. And I never pegged myself as a more than one cat kinda girl. I grew up with dogs and am used to their social structures and behaviors. Cats are completely different. I have no idea what to expect with these two. Luckily, it's not as bad as this :

I was reading AdRants and came across the story featuring a Dove ad. In the ad, a "normal" looking woman is madeup and photoshopped into a model for an ad. I knew there was some tooling around with ads and stuff, but this is incredible to watch it all unfold.
http://www.reginaldpike.com/dove/index.html
While it's a powerful ad, I can't shake the urge to go Photoshop myself and see what happens.

I was logging into my Myspace account 10 secs ago and I saw the ad for this: MySpace Jobs. Is that really necessary?
Seriously, they are becoming the "Amazon" of social networking sites, only with more teens and creepy old people who like teens. Ew. And you can't buy shit there. Yet.