Pictures From the Pit of Hell

Ugh. Have I always been this hateful? Every morning, I despise everyone I see to the point that my stomach churns. Waking up every day has gotten to be like the pain of birth - from the child's perspective, not the mother's. Have you ever stopped to think what a traumatic experience being born must have been? And yet, none of us remembers it. Maybe we're all blocking it out. Fucking torture anyway.

So, yesterday I went to get a salad and had a detestable experience waiting in line. I've got to figure out how I can live my life with the most minimal contact with other humans as possible. On the other hand, maybe it's just this city or just this country that sucks. I still hold out hope for the rest of the world. America is going to crash and burn and we all deserve it. Oh, wait...there was a point....yeah, the purse. I managed to snap, at the end of my long wait in line, a shot of another hideous handbag It isn't loaded with shiny buckles and formed out of animal skin, but it's gross nonetheless. Behold, in all it's horror:



And did I tell you about the guy on the bus a couple of weeks ago? Oh man. It was all I could do not to laugh hysterically. Let this be a lesson to everyone out there to embrace their true body size and shop accordingly (or at least dress accordingly):



Did you pee just a little? I did. Freakin' hilarious! I feel a little better now.

What the Hell Is That?!

Look at what my co-workers gave me for the holidays:



It's a Red Lion Amaryllis plant! It came in a nice little box with a pot and some soil to plant the bulb in. As you can see, the pot's not nearly big enough. When it grows up, it should look something like this:



It's funny that my fellow employees should get me a plant as a gift. I mean, sure, I have more plants at my desk than anyone else in the office. However, I'm really terrible at caring for them! The ones I have are all orphaned and I adopted them from eminent disposal.

In other news, the holidays suck (as always), it's freezing outside (and in here too!), I think I'm coming down with a cold, and my mom's mom will probably die on Christmas day. ....and you wonder why I haven't posted in a while...

Oh Hell, You Di'nt!

I can't believe I haven't posted since that ridiculous crush on my stupid boss (Well, he's not really stupid, but anyway). I am so over that...ish. Life has been a crushing weight lately though. I got into a huge fight with my alcoholic father over the weekend. So bad that I left the house in tears and went apartment shopping the very next day. I'm waiting to hear back about the place. How long does it take to do a damn credit check?! Bastards. Keeping me in suspense. grumble. grumble.

To cheer myself up, I thought I'd post some more horrible fashion blunders! Yay!
This morning, I saw this guy:



I first noticed him because he had a little bird tattoo on his hand. Then, I started looking at his crotch. Poor guy must be lacking some equipment because I couldn't see so much as a ruffle in that area. And THEN I noticed that he's got mad VPL going on (follow the gun). I didn't think guys could have visible panty lines (I'm calling them Manty lines)! Hee hee. Let that be a lesson to all the Hot Topic Emo fellas out there - if you're going to wear tight pants, skip the boxers! Sadly, that's probably going to be the highlight of my day.

Some time ago, I was out for pizza with Mom when I ran into this monstrosity:



What is the deal with women and their gia-normous purses these days? Not only are these things large, they're normally some type of imitation animal hide and covered with chrome buckles and plates. What an eyesore, not to mention you could probably fit a body in there...

Neko Remembers Why Hell is a Bad Place

SEEMINGLY OFF-HAND COMMENT FOUND GUILTY OF ASSAULT

Early Thursday morning a seemingly off-hand comment made by one Mr. Crane performed a shocking assault on one innocent crush. Authorities say that the incident began as a topping survey in preparation for an office pizza. The conversation, centering on suitable vegetables, quickly escalated from olives to martinis. Neko, caretaker of the innocent crush suggested that she, a fellow admin and Mr. Crane share a round of martinis. Witnesses say that Neko's suggestion was not out of place considering the topic of conversation and did not appear to be intended as a serious plan. However, in response to her suggestion Mr. Crane released this deadly comment, "I never drink with co-workers". Very savagely, this comment leapt forth and impaled Neko's innocent crush with deadly accuracy. The wound was delivered just to the right of the heart. Innocent crush is currently under intensive care at a local hospital. A representative at the hospital relayed a grim outlook for its survival.

Seemingly Off-Hand Comment was spared from the court's harshest sentence due to the fact that SOHC is not normally deadly. Experts suggest that it was only in the presence of Innocent Crush that SOHC was destructive. The judge in this case stated that Seemingly Off-Hand Comment showed a lack of consideration for Mr. Crane's fellow employees first, by calling attention to the separation between their status in the office and secondly by expressing Mr. Crane's opinion of the co-workers involved as lesser beings. Fellow Admin did not appear to be injured although could not be reached for comment.

Number 10 is Hell

Ten random reasons why I [heart] Mr. Crane:

1. He's intellegent
2. He loves his dogs
3. He is good at his job
4. He's considerate
5. He goes out of his way to help other people out
6. He's not a push-over
7. He doesn't act like a macho asshole
8. He's self-confident
9. He's tall
10. His crooked smile makes me want to die

>sigh<
This is totally unhealthy.

Imagine You're in Hell

I'm in love with my boss. Wait. Let me rephrase that. I've developed an unsettling crush on my boss, which he knows absolutely nothing about. How does that sound? It's far more accurate. He's not terribly appealing in the looks department (not that he's at all ugly, but he's no Robert Downey, Jr.), but personality-wise he's holding a royal flush. I hadn't even realized that I felt anything unusual for him until a sexual dream caught me off guard. That didn't really mean much either until I heard him talking to his wife on the phone and noticed I was getting jealous.

Yes, I'm doing my best to resist. I am smart enough to realize that fantasizing over your married supervisor isn't the best thing in the world. To get mixed up in that is almost certainly doomed. To even hint to him that I'm infatuated would mean a 95% chance of not having this job anymore. I like my job. So, I'm just going to write it down and leave the poor guy alone. I have to admit though, that it's very, very tempting to recommend the movie Secretary to him. That's a hot movie!

Okay, so for the purposes of the written fantasy world, let's call my boss Mr. Crane. I'm not going to describe the dream that floated this infatuation up from my subconscious except to say that it involved his fingers and my unmentionables. But just yesterday, the two of us shared a piece of cake. I'd bought it to support National Feral Cat Day. It was chocolate with chocolate creme frosting and raspberry preserves throughout. Mmm. We're going though moving madness here and I suggested that the two of us share the cake as a way to de-stress. Instead of cutting the piece in half, we had two forks and shared it from the same plate (i.e. takeout box). Sound romantic? It really wasn't. We just took turns with our forks and had polite conversation. Since that dream, it's been kind of difficult to look Mr. Crane in the eye. In reality, the cake eating wasn't in any way suspicious. If someone else in the office had walked in, nothing would have set off any alarms.

In my head, though, I'm sitting on his lap (and about 40 pounds thinner) and hand feeding him the cake. Oh my. As he's licking the chocolate and raspberry off of my fingers, he's also reaching up my business-like skirt.

Fresh Green Hell

Today's salad consists of:

spinach
cannelloni beans (white kidney beans)
portabello mushrooms
cheese tortellini
blue cheese
Parmesan cheese slices
kalmata feta dressing

all wrapped up in a thin tortilla and accompanied by a bottle of lemon & lime tea.

It was yummy until I got about halfway through it. What's the point of eating a salad anyway when the damn thing's bigger than your head? I feel ill and I think the girl at the chocolate shop poisoned my latte this morning. Dizzy....

Sweaty From All That Hellfire

After the moving madness at work, the blood-spattered incident at home and the uncomfortable situation at mother's house lately, I need to take some time to look at Robert Downey Jr.'s hottness.



Why, oh why aren't there more pictures from Iron Man on the 'net? I swear there were juicier shots than this in that movie. Well, he's a sexy beast anyway. I'd totally let him have his way with me. (grin) I keep saying that I'm not into men anymore. I should change that to, "I'm only into famous men now." The regular guys are just too much headache to deal with.

Clear, Plastic Hell

I ordered some boxes yesterday, to facilitate the office move from Hell. They arrived today, all wrapped in clingy celophane stuff. Being the Eco-nut that I am, I immediately tried to think of a way to re-use it. The first idea that sprang to mind was, "I know! I could wrap myself up in it naked, buy a ball-gag and go to that fetish ball!"

Strange the way my mind works sometimes...now, off to Google "fetish ball, Halloween".

Send Your Garbage to Hell

This video is great. Hopefully, people will see this and take a hint. I initially thought I was going to see some weird hippy guy with crazy ideas, but (although he's kinda "Boulder") everything he suggests is really practical. Take a look:

Hell Has Big Eyes

***Uh, oh***

Ever wonder why there have been so many movies and books cautioning us against this very sort of thing? Orwell, Bradbury, V for Vandetta....we all need to wake up and keep our civil liberties intact - before it's too late.

Exquisite Visions of Hell

Holy Wow. I discovered the art of James Jean today and I have to say that I'm in awe. I just....wow.....I so wish I could draw like that. It makes me want to die. Which, if you don't know me by now, is a good thing.

More Vomit from the Oriface of Hell

Ugh. As if it wasn't bad enough that I had to wake up this morning in the first place, I had to see these on the bus on the way to work:



These shoes are horrendous. Well, they could potentially be worse, but they suck pretty bad. It's as if someone ate some camo and some Pepto and puked all over her feet. If you can tell from the picture, the shoes are basic canvas slip-ons with an unholy pattern of pink plaid. What makes them really suck though is the odd buckle strap thingie on top. Far from being functional, the gruesome "decorations" has those square studs you find on a Hot Topic emo-kid belt on them, only they're pink. They don't work with the pattern of the material, they don't hold the shoes on, and they don't do much for my eyeballs at 7:30 in the morning.

They would have matched the poor excuse for a jacket that I saw earlier on a middle-aged woman seated across from me on the train. I didn't snap a picture of it, but it was basically a mock denim jacket in pink. Where do I begin? First of all denim jackets are not cute. They may have been popular on tween girls back in the 80s, but that fashion should stay in the grave along with legwarmers. Secondly, instead of being an authentic denim jacket, it was a crude and nauseating imitation of denim. Get it straight people - denim belongs on your legs and ass and nowhere else. Thou shalt not wear denim in jacket form, hat form, shoe form or skirt form - ever. And the most cardinal sin of them all? Overalls. Unless you're 4 years old or a farmer, nobody should even consider a pair of overalls.

Whee. More examples of poorly dressed people next week.

Hell and The Fashionista

It seems I hardly blog anymore. I was so focused on Gummi Popcorn for a bit, then I got busy with projects at home. In the morning, on the way to work, is when I get the most inspiration for this blog, but I end up actually working sometimes and then don't get the chance to write. So, the idea gets stale or goes away completely.

However, sometimes they stick because of painful daily reminders - like this one!

I never claimed to be the best dressed person in the world. If I had the money, I would be, but that's not reality. I almost always manage to at least be color-coordinated. All of my cats shed in coordinating colors. I also tend not to buy in to extremely retarded trends like most of the idiots I see walking around out there. So, without further ado, I present, "Fashion Trends That Make Me Want To Choke People":



1. Enormous Bug-Eye Sunglasses. What is the point of wearing sunglasses with lenses as big as salad plates and who decided this looked good? I have a sneaking suspicion that Paris Hilton started this one, which makes me hate it all the more. The vast majority of victims to this awful fashion fiasco are women. Don't these gals realize how ridiculous they look with big, huge fly-eyes on their faces? The funny thing is, these people seem to thing they're ever-so-hot anyway, which just makes me laugh. Sure, it's a disgusted, hateful laugh, but that's as close as I get to mirth these days.



2. Big, Furry Boots. It's summertime/falltime right now. Why are you wearing jean shorts and sheepskin boots that go up to your knees in 80 degree weather? What, your calves get chilly, but not your thighs? Besides, can you imagine what it smells like inside that pair of Uggs? It's hot, your toes are sweaty, and all that sweat is trapped inside a dead animal's skin. Gross, gross, double-gross. This girl actually has a blog about this hideous footwear (which is obviously where I ripped this picture off from).

3. The Half Sweater. Have I bitched about this one before? Can't these people afford the rest of the garment? I could understand if they had knit the sweater themselves and just got tired of it halfway through, but why buy it that way? It's like buying pants that cost $80 that have been purposely damaged. WTF?! Now, I only watch Deal or No Deal when it's on at the gym and that's because it's easier to look at than the time counter on the treadmill. But, Howie Mandel was on Conan a few weeks ago and I was pleasantly shocked to learn that he's got the same aversion to the dreaded half-sweater as I do! Go Howie!! (I believe it was the Sept. 9th show)

I'm out of bitchin' time for now, but trust me, there will be more on this topic. If you're just jonzing for more right now, here you go.

Breezy In Hell

First, my new car smelled like new car. I liked it that way until I realized that "new car" really smells like chemicals and plastic. Then, after leaving a coffee mug (that I thought was empty) in the cupholder for forever, my car smelled gross. It smelled like moldy coffee. >gag< Once I threw out the grody coffee cups, my kitty died. So, then my car smelled like dead cat.

But now? Well, ever since I put this thing in:



My car smells like fresh baked cupcakes!!!!!! Which totally fuckin' ROCKS! Every time I open the door, I get a yummy, vanilla-y waft of cupcakey goodness. Oh, God it's fan -friggin-tastic!! <3

Fresh Hell

Things I'd rather do than be at Dad's company "picnic":

1. Plucking my eyebrows
2. Cleaning the litter box
3. Eating glass
4. Stabbing myself in the eyeballs
5. Giving John McCain a blowjob
6. Categorizing varieties of pocket lint
7. Burning my fingerprints off
8. Wetting myself on live television
9. Teaching Linsey Lohan how to behave in public
10. Having a vaginal infection

IWBIH 8

She sat in front of a row of expensive liquor who's bottles glistened like exotic jewels. The bartender who looked like Pete Wentz handed her a six-toed kitten and a slice of pizza.

IWBIH 8

...of course the name and phone number were bogus; just for show. The number actually went to an answering machine. If you were meant to get the real message, you knew how to decode the password from the flier. If not...

IWBIH 7

...and it was a good thing too, because Neko wasn't entirely decided on the subject. It could be said that she went both ways, but she was leaning hard to one side lately. She was just about done with them altogether...

IWBIH 6

...She wondered if, eventually, her hatred for her "fellow man" would consume her and drive her to insanity. Already, a burning anger dominated her thoughts whenever she was forced among the masses. She fantisized about the most efficient ways to thin the population. She needed an outlet, a release, before she lost it completely...

IWBIH 5

...most of the girls' names she couldn't remember at first. But, one named Alice made an impression right away. It was hard not to notice how beautiful she was, under that spiky red hair and all of the ink...

IWBIH 4

...Neko went to the sink the next morning and spit out a tooth, along with a good-sized chunk of the inside of her cheek. She wondered how people in the movies made getting hit in the head with a two-by-four look so pleasant compared to the real thing...

IWBIH 3

...being a secret society, The Sisterhood of course had an initiation process. Neko couldn't expand on the details, but it involved getting arrested...

Hell Was in a Movie Last Night (pt. 2)

...The sisterhood was aided, in part, by an ambitious young printer named Max Donahue who ran off propaganda for the girls' clandestine activities on his small letter press. Max had an animal - a crow - in his shop. No one could say that the bird was Max's pet, but it certainly became a mascot of sorts after the robbery...

Hell Was in a Movie Last Night

...Late one night, while vandalizing the windows of a local Rib City eatery, Neko met a blonde woman with dreadlocks. As she would soon discover, this woman - codenamed Spear - belonged to a sisterhood of underground lesbian animal rights activists...

Hell With Little Wings On

If I was to become some sort of pixie or sprite, I think I would be a tickle fairy. Except, I'd tickle people at terribly inappropriate times - like at a funeral or when they had to pee really bad.

The Components of Hell

"Self improvement is masteurbation. Now, self destruction..." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

It's the rain and this afternoon's procurement of Gerard Way's "The Umbrella Academy" that's put me in this lovely mood. And they say I wouldn't love Seattle. I feel like knitting some black, webby garment and watching something haunting. I wish I had Donnie Darko. (I did once, but I threw it away after a particularly painful inful break-up. Stupid. Well, I figured I wasn't going to live too long, so what was the use of hanging onto material possessions?) I feel like painting in blacks and greys so heavy with water, they just drip down the canvas like tears. I feel like creating something subtly disturbing.

After a few martinis, I don't really feel like spending a thousand bucks on a personal trainer was the right move. Eventually, I hope, I'll be rail-thin like I used to be. I miss those days. Funny how you don't realize things until it's too late. Too bad the heroin diet isn't an option. I don't want to fuck up my life that badly (again).

It's not that I feel so dramatic as to throw myself off of something high. I just fell a comfortable ease and a longing for shadows. It's familiar and welcome. I'm thinking of slipping into something comfortable with webbed stockings, painting my nails black...hiding myself for a while in my personal tomb..giving birth to something awful and mysterious.

The eve of the DNC and static electricity in the air. Watching the opening ceremonies of the Olympics, I felt sure that something dreadful was going to happen. It was the same feeling driving home tonight, but much closer to home. As if something with inky black tentacles was lurking in the drain, thinking how nice it would be to eat something young and tender. Not me of course, for I'm neither young nor tender anymore. I'd marry it and help it feed. (smile)

hopeful in Hell

I just keep hoping that someday, somewhere, like on the train or in a bookstore, that someone will see me and fall completely in love. And then, we'll go off together and live a crazy rock star life together.

Another Day, Another Hell

The city smells like refuse again this morning. My stomach feels like I swallowed a lead balloon; bloated, nauseated, heavy. The wafting scent of dumpster isn't helping me much in the battle against vomiting. But, I've got to find coffee somewhere. That's the first step to feeling moderately bearable. Despite the fact that I woke up moments before I stepped off the train, I still have the presence of mind to try for someplace, anyplace but Starbucks. I imagine myself a hero for the small business owner and for groggy people around the country, "fighting for your choice in morning coffee". I discover my new breaktime hangout. They're independent, they're friendly, and their list of veggie sandwiches is as long as my arm. My only regret is holding this scone instead of a nice bagel. I'm not much for sweets, but I'm hoping the food will calm my churning innards. That is, if I can bring myself to eat it.

I get to the office and realize that I've forgotten my key. I can see the red-haired admin inside the reception area, so I knock on the window. She's oblivious. My office, off to the side, usually has one woman in it who never unlocks the door or turns on the lights. So, I knock on that window, thinking that if she's in there and she doesn't answer, I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. She irritates me anyhow. Eventually, I am rescued from my lost-puppy look in the hallway and someone opens the door. There's nobody here in the office. When I check the calendar, it looks like I'm going to be the only one in my department today.

Soon, I think that Mexican woman is going to come. She sells tamales and burritos door-to-door in the building. The same woman used to do the same thing in my last building, the one I was in before I changed jobs. There are only tamales on Friday though. They cost half as much as the burritos, but she knows I'll buy. I always buy, if she's got something vegetarian. But, since she knows I'll always buy, she always brings something vegetarian. She even extends me credit, because I rarely carry cash.

Cash...that's right. I need to get some so I can pay my bills...I need to call my storage and tell them not to auction off my furniture. I have a lot of crap to do today. My stomach doesn't think apricot scones are a good idea.

the Phone Call From Hell

OMG! IjustgotanewiPhoneandittotallyrocks!!!!!! OMG!!!!!!!

If Nintendo Was In Hell

What??......No way. There's just no way this exists.

Big, Fat Hell

I'm having a hard time coping with my weight gain. Whenever one of those skinny girls walks by, I narrow my eyes at her and look at my own expanding belly...and feel bad about myself. I haven't gone to the gym in a couple of months. I'm just so tired when I leave work, it's hard to motivate myself to do much besides sit on the couch.

Thinking that maybe a diet would help, I put myself on the Special K diet. It's the only diet that didn't seem too bizarre or not veggie friendly. My doctor told me to go on the South Beach Diet. So, I went online to find out more about it and what I found out is...if I go on the South Beach Diet, I'll die! There isn't much more than meat on that one. The damn doc knows that I don't eat animal! Bitch. So, the Special K diet basically means that you run around buying everything Kellogs has on their list and munch that stuff all day. The protein water sucks ass, but the rest of it tastes just fine - like cereal.

So, I keep nagging myself to hit the gym and guilt tripping when I don't. I really don't mind the gym once I get there, but it's getting there that's the problem. I always seem to find an excuse not to go.

I hate being fat. So, why am I being so lazy?

Hell's Window on Speed

Here's just a wee catch-up on the window display at work:

Like my new tattoo?

Where the Hell Did the Sun Go?

My window display is beginning to affect the weather outdoors. Or, maybe the other way around. On my way home from my little knitting circle (yes, I have a knitting circle, shut up.), the thunder started rolling and there was some spectacular lightening. I thought for sure that I was going to get trapped, jacketless as I was, in a downpour. But, I managed to make it all the way home without getting wet. Usually, I find these situations a little thrilling - or I used to anyway. Last night, however, I was freaking out. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up and I was suddenly and irrationally afraid that I would be struck by a thunderbolt. I was sure I felt doom creeping up on me.



As you can see, there are only a few new clouds, but they look a little grim compared to the others.

A Cloudy Day in Helldontown

Another set of clouds has rolled in.



But they're still light and fluffy, so the birdies below don't seem too worried.
These pictures are of the backside of the whole window display. The opposite side of the clouds have some detail, but you're not missing much. This is the side I stare at all day, so it has to be somewhat entertaining. Partly, I'm just wondering if the people who walk past it day by day will notice what's going on. Also partly, I need something to amuse myself with.

Feeling a bit....mopey today. It's probably because I'm out of meds (again). Stupid.

Paper Cut-outs of Hell

Yes, I've been remiss in updating Little Tragedies. Sometimes, little tragedies and minor changes obscure the path to blogging. There was a death. There's a new job. General malaise. Much Gummi Popcorn updating. I like having that site as a form of expression, because it isn't so personal.

But, I have a big window in my new office. It looks right out into the hallway - whoopee. So, a while ago, I decorated it with little paper-chain birdies. They were just hanging out.



But then, I decided that the birdies needed some drama. See that cloud rolling in from the East?



Oh. There's another one coming from the West...



I wonder what will happen on this glorious landscape of glass. Stay tuned......

Bloody Hell

Some knitters are just out of control.

The Sweet, Rich Aroma of Hell

If you'd been with me from the beginning of my blogging days, back when I wrote Neko's Rainy Day, you might have read my rant about Starbucks. As I recall, I was proud of it; the way it was worded, the accuracy of my expression. The gist of the post went like this, "Starbucks is evil. I hate all of the people who I pass in the window, looking out as if they're better than everyone else." Later, I ended up eating my words after becoming addicted to the coffee chain's "Gingerbread Latte" at Christmas time.

Flash forward to the recent past. I found myself drinking Starbucks' coffee almost daily at my last job. So much so, that I bought myself a coffee pot for my desk and starting grinding my own coffee so as to avoid the $5 cup. Then, I decided to switch to tea, so I sold my coffee pot. Then, I started drinking a co-worker's brew and eventually, went back to the evil empire. When I left the job a couple of weeks ago, I was given a gift card for Starbucks.

As a greeting, when I began my current job, I was given another gift card for Starbucks. So, needless to say, I've been there every morning for several days in a row, cashing in my gift cards. Now they're cashed out. Today, I decided that, since I could no longer get free coffee, that I'd try and support another coffee vendor. I walked to another shop called Sugar Beat that I remembered was pretty cool. But, when I got there....it was closed! Not "closed" as in "we'll be back later", but closed as is "for lease"! I'd always remembered them being pretty busy. They had sandwiches and other snacks at lunchtime and the line was always a long one. That sucks.

Since The Sugar Beat was no more, I thought I'd revisit another shop not much further away. The name of this one was Maui Wowi and it had a Hawaiian theme. Their drinks were unique and tasty, but they didn't have much in the way of food. On the way to Maui Wowi, I was lamenting that all the small coffee shops around are disappearing. Was it because of Starbucks? I'd always heard about how the monster sized chain was pushing out independent business, but then again, I'd also always seen plenty of coffee shops around. In fact, until Starbucks, it hadn't seemed that people were really drinking coffee outside of the home and 7-11. It occurred to me that Starbucks may have even created a market for their competition.

As these thoughts swam through my early morning, pre-coffee brain, I thought the words, "If Maui Wowi is gone too, I'm really going to freak out." When I saw the "Open" sign dimmed and started to panic, but then I realized that it was Quiznos' window I'd been looking at. Right next door should be.....what?.....Maui Wowi is gone!!! That's right. Another small coffee shop disappeared. Thank god Daz Bog Coffee is still around (and that they have a very cute cashier).

So, I think I've resolved to never again drink Starbucks if there's anything else remotely close by. Instead of being angry at the company, it's really the consumer's fault. After all, when you own a business, generally the object is to make money. A successful business will make money any way it knows how (hopefully in legitimate ways). So, you can't blame Starbucks for making money. But the dawning realization that struck me this morning is - as a consumer, it's important to support independent coffee if you'd still like a choice as to where you get your coffee from.

Holy Hell....WTF?!

Um....okay. I've decided on a slow death via starvation. Not really, but I'm having a hard time coping with new guy seeing another chick. He's not to blame though. There was never any pretense of being "exclusive" and I have to give the guy kudos for telling me the truth when I asked him. It's still quite a blow though. I haven't had an appetite for days. I suppose I asked for it. I feel like an ass for letting myself have the feelings I had for him. I still plan on dating the guy, but it's been rough.

So, get this: in the midst of my despair and self-loathing, I get an email from an ex. Remember the guy with the 13 inch mowhawk? The one who uncerimoniously dumped me after proposing? Well, I "he" is now "she". No shit. I'm still reeling from shock. Just when you think things are bad....Well, it's not such a terrible thing I guess. It's good that the guy finally got in touch with the hidden side of him/her. I wished her well and said we could be friends. I just feel like I got run over by a truck though.

Movies From Hell

I've been up to something good over at Gummi Popcorn! I have introduced the first ever Gummi Awards! Choose from 15 quirky new categories and nominate which movies you'd like to see win! Then, after the nominees are chosen, the reader who submitted the winning nominee wins a prize! Be sure to read "The Lowdown" first. You can get there by using the link in the upper right, once you're at Gummi Popcorn.

Go on over and gander!....while I mope about being stood up for my lunch date....

Hell of a Good Time

Alright mo'fos, this is where it's at!

Do Me Hard In Hell

This is how I spend my off hours at work. Online. I'm sure that habit doesn't make me unique in the slightest. But do you find, like I do, that you may start off at one of your favorite haunts, only to follow a seemingly endless chain of links before you end up somewhere entirely unexplored? That's basically how I found most, if not all, of the links to the left here. That's probably one of the things I adore about the internet.

Today, I started out at The Park Bench. It's a blog that I discovered recently and added to my weekly (but not daily) rotation. Eventually, I ended up at Reverse Cowgirl. It's a blog about porn, sex, prostitution...let's just say "the pleasure industry". The blog was named on Time Magazine's recent list of top 25 websites (or something like that). Funny - I read about that article on about 5 different sites, but never once visited the Time site, or even had to (or even wanted to). Frankly, I could give a shit about Time Magazine.

But, the point of this post isn't to catalogue the odd twists and turns my slacker adventure consisted of this afternoon. The point is that, after reading a little bit of Reverse Cowgirl, I wanted to know some personal information about the blogger. Whenever I read something, I try to take into consideration things like who the person is, what their purpose for writing is, and if that person is trying to convince me of something, do their beliefs align with my own? I think these things are important. If I'm reading a piece of paper, contradicting the validity of the ideas put forth in The DaVinci Code, and I turn that piece of paper over to discover that it was distributed by the christian church, I'm soooooo less likely to believe anything said paper has to tell me. It's because I know their agenda, and I vehemently disagree with their beliefs.

I found a list of prestigious publications that the author of Reverse Cowgirl contributed to, and I found a picture. Not much to go on, but part of the beauty of the internet is anonymity and I don't begrudge the woman the desire to keep to herself. So I clicked on the picture. I clicked on it again. Then I clicked on "enlarge picture". I concluded that the woman in the picture is "way too skinny."

So...did I go through all that trouble just to pass judgement on this woman? What was I looking for, really? A connection of some kind? What does it matter to me how thin this woman is? I'm not going to fit her for a dress, it's not as if I'm going to date her and it's far less likely that I'll ever meet her in person. But, then consider that her appearence isn't going to sway me from reading her blog. Am I a shallow bitch, hoping to find fault in everyone? What's the deal?

(I thought this post was going somewhere, but it seems to have petered out. Sorry.)

When I Feel Like Hell

I found this postcard on PostSecret and was really touched by it for some reason.



Thanks, whoever you are. I'm going to keep this around to look at when I feel like Hell.

Let's Get the Hell Outta Here

Um...that rant about coffee shop boy?.....Over it. I just had an epiphany last night and then *bling*, I was over the whole situation. Yay! Now I'm just upset because I left my iPod on the charger at home. D'oh!!

I would like to abandon my current life/situation and go on to something new. I'm so bored and run down with the whole routine. I tried doing a few new things, like knitting groups and belly dancing. It worked for a while, but it all seems mundane again. I've been cruising around other, more creative/fortunate people's blogs and it's made me a little depressed/unsatisfied.

I need a makeover! No, not the kind where you pay some blone/beauty school cunt to spackle makeup on your face and tease your hair. I mean the kind where Queer Eye for the Straight Guy marches into your apartment (that reminds me. I need to get my dad's garage "pimped" somehow) and makes life beautiful again. Although, that would only work if they moved me to a new city and gave me a new job as well as the wardrobe advice. Poo.

I've decided that I'm going to invent a new style genre. It's called "GothaBilly". Yeah, like the bastard child of "goth" and "rockabilly". Half of my existing wardrobe already applies. It's going to have to be back to the Bettie do as soon as I can afford it. My tummy really needs some flattening. Let's see....manicure (that's when you pay some Vietnamese/Korean cunt to spackle your nails with acrylics)...some sewing and some thrift store shopping....

Oh, and a new car and apartment...yeah, I'm all over that shit.

Where the Hell is My Phone Call?!

**CAUTION: The following is a drunken rant regarding Neko's distaste for having relations with the opposite sex. If you're rolling your eyes already, don't bother reading any further.**

Rrrrrr! I hate guys! It's always the same old story.

A few weeks ago, I had a brief conversation with a guy in the coffee shop. Very brief.

The next week, same guy approached me as I was knitting with my friends and introduced himself.

Following week, guy sat next to me (same coffee shop) and we had an interesting little chat. After which, I went out for drinks with him and followed him home. Dispite being upset at the moment, I will admit that the sex was amazing. I mean, eyes rolling back in my head, effing fan-freakin'-tastic. I called in sick the following morning and proceeded to spend the rest of that day screwing his brains out. In between the fantastic animal love fest, we had equally great conversation and went out for lunch. I told him to call me and we set a tentative date for this upcoming Friday. Guess who thought she felt something "click"?

Tomorrow will mark one week's time since that lovely evening. Have I recieved a phone call? One god-damned ring of my phone? No. Of course not. A wise woman would tell me not to give up the goods on the first date and somehow it's my fault there's no phone call. Fuck her. This is what I hate about dating men. It's always the same story. They're more than happy to take you home and pile drive you, but when it comes to the follow-up, there's a gaping void of NO PHONE CALLS! This guy did send me a MySpace message, mentioning that he might be at the same coffee shop tomorrow. If he's expecting a warm welcome, he's very much mistaken. Fucker. I suppose he's not terribly interested in moi then. It's too bad I got my hopes up.

So guys, sorry but I'm switching teams - effective immediately.

((grumble, grumble, grumble))

Another Hell-a Cool Website

Attention artists, web designers and lovers of cuteness:

I've had Meomi Design's website up in my list of links for quite some time now, but recently revisited to check up on things. (Hint: if you're not scoping my links, you're missin' some good s h i t) Check out this page and make sure to roll over all of the characters and trees 'n' things in the background! It personally made my day.

Holy Hell Geekery, Batman!

The Raconteurs have a new album. And they're on tour. Granted, they aren't quite as good as The White Stripes, but I'll take what I can get since Meg's having problems. You see, Jack White is a god - a musical diety. In person, he's a real sweetheart and genuinely appreciative of his fans. When I met him, I was starstruck for a week. Ticketmaster sends me little alerts when a band they think I like comes to town. After learning of the new Raconteurs album, via said Ticketmaster alert, I was curious to view their website. It is (and this is where the geekery comes into play) set up to look like an old-school green-screen computer monitor, like the kind they have in 80's movies like Terminator. A true geek could probably tell you the make and model and OS for the thing, but I'm not that good. Anyway, go an check it out, even if you don't like the band. You'll see what I mean and then I won't feel so stupid.

Sista's Gotsta Stick Togetha' 'N Hell

The Park Bench blog is going to be my new regular reading. Just check out this post.

Soft, Cuddly and Straight from Hell

With all of my knitting groups, belly dancing class, gym workouts and general drunken stupor, I feel like I hardly accomplish anything. But, over the weekend, I sat down and made a Softie! Softies are basically stuffed animals/objects that are designed by indie artists and generally not for children (because of small parts or delicacy). The one I made is from the Softie kit I bought on Wednesday at Fancy Tiger.

I also found this lovely website this morning, called Softies Central. The Softies book is on this blog, at the top left. I'll try and post a pic of my Softie - which is a little cake - as soon as I sift through all the crap on my camera and suffer through the insufferable download process (or is that upload?) I think I could get into making these in a big way. I've got dozens of ideas floating around in the ol' noggin. The trouble is translating them into workable patterns.

Crazy Like a Hell Fox

Evening Sans Hell

I stop at the door and fit the key into the lock. Click. I push the door open with my foot and stumble into the room. A multitude of bags in paper, plastic and canvas jostle and rustle in my arms, threatening to fall to the floor. I use my foot again to shut the door behind me. I pause. The gentle and warm scent of jasmine tea wafts into my nostrils. With my eyes closed, I breathe deeply in and out for a few minutes. Slowly, I open my eyes again. More calmly now, I amble into the kitchen. Most of the mess I'm carrying gets deposited on the counter top. A paper bag crumpled around a bottle of imported French Pinot Nior. A canvas sack bearing a selection of cheeses, a tub of Greek olives and a bagette. Plastic static clings to an 8 pound package of 9 Lives.

Something warm and soft curls around my ankles, bringing a sleepy grin to my face. Meow! I bend over and drop my hand to the creature's head. I can feel the vibrations coming from his throat reverberating somewhere in my chest. He appreciates the attention.

A few moments late, but no less welcome, a mechanical click sounds in the next room. The soothingly hip melodies of Getz/Gilberto dance casually to my ears. A corkscrew is probably the easiest object to find in the apartment. Second to that are the wine glasses. I uncork the bottle of red and inhale a familiar boquet. I slide a large plate from the cupboard and load it with chunks of various cheeses, a handful of assorted olives (the garlic stuffed are my favorite), and several slices from the bagette.

Trying not to trip over Mr. Noisypants, I take my glass and my plate into the other room and settle into a huge easy chair. It's a little worn and the cats have nicked the uphostry a couple of times, but I sink right in. The uncomforable heels are kicked off right away. I wince distractedly as fresh cuts and blisters meet the air. Leaning back, setting the glass on the roughly hewn wooden end table to my left, I grope under the cushions for a skinny black remote control. Click.

What a nice way to start the weekend (too bad it's not true).

Out of the Frying Pan and Into Hell

The office in which I work has an email group designed specifically for topics that aren't work related. It is to said group that people email their requests for plumbing referrals, sell their hockey tickets, and advise the rest of us about their childrens' fundraisers. Occasionally, someone will post a topic that raises an uproar and causes a backlash of email, such as a comment about supporting the troops or attending a GLBT banquet.

Yesterday, I was hoping for a recommendation regarding breast cancer charities. More specifically, which one might be beneficial for me to donate to. I sent an email to the group, mentioning that I was seeking an organization that does not fund animal testing. My email said nothing (although it was implied) about whether or not animal testing is wrong. It didn't attempt to sway the reader toward one conclusion or another regarding that topic. In fact, here's exactly what I sent:

I'm sure that, with all of the socially conscious individuals in the office, someone can recommend a worthy charity to donate to. Any suggestions? I'm looking for a charity that fights breast cancer, but does not do animal testing.

Thanks!

Not terribly zealous on the subject of animal testing, right? Considering the fact that I'd like to peel the flesh from the bones of any individual who thinks that it's justified to torture animals by the thousands in unnecessary lab tests, I'd say that my keeping the email as brief as I did shows exceptional restraint.

Of course, there had to be people who thought they needed to take up a torch against me. They were somehow offended that I declined their precious Susan G. Komen Foundation and their Lance Armstrong Foundation because they fund animal torture/murder/mutilation. I was polite. I was tolerant. I tried to inform. I didn't say, "It's fuckers like you who make it so hard to effect positive change in this world. You're the reason I have no faith in mankind."

I sent this link to a couple of people. A lady I know in the office responded, letting me know that the website I sent her to advocated stem cell research, which she did not support. "It kills babies," her email said. She's pro-life and almost began an argument with me over the abortion issue. I steered clear of that one. I did, however, tell her that I didn't know much about stem cell research and that I would check it out. I proceeded to do exactly that. A little while later, I came up with a link to a brochure released by (of all things) Right To Life. They, fortunately, offered a sensible take on the subject. Go here for the pdf. She thanked me for the information and I thanked her for prompting my research. Everybody's happy.

That's an example of when things go the right way. Another person responded to me in quite a different way. He basically told me that the best way to do medical research is to inject things into rats. He refused to consider other options. His final email to me was, "As a biologist, I disagree. I'll leave it at that." Hmmm....wait a minute. A biologist, eh? Well, it seems odd that a biologist would be masquerading as an attorney working for the government. Seems to me that a man so completely educated on the topic of biological research might have considered a position elsewhere. I wanted to boil his eyeballs and stomp on his testicles. I still do, actually. So nice of him to decide that the conversation was over and that he had the final say. So lovely of him to dictate when I should lay my beliefs to rest.

I did, actually, let him have that final word. Seeing as how I like being able to pay my bills and that my current mode of employment allows me to accomplish that, it didn't seem wise for me to continue the debate. The whole point was that I never intended for there to be a debate with anyone! All I wanted to do was help someone. See what happens?? This is why I clam up when my little political knitting group gets me riled. I want to continue to get along with these people. I haven't learned to argue past a certain point without getting angry. I wonder if that makes me just as bad as those religious fanatics who run around demanding that everyone believe in Jesus.

Vent Thine Hellish Spleen

Dear Asshole,

Yeah, you in the big, silver, oversized pickup truck. There's something called a "stop sign" that you apparently aren't aware of. It's red and white and shaped like an octagon (that's a shape with eight sides). Printed on the sign is the word "STOP" in big white letters. Yes, that's what those are. With me so far? Well, when you see one of these "stop signs", you are supposed to take your foot off of the pedal that makes your truck go fast (the accelerator) and put your foot on the pedal that makes your truck stop (the brake). You are supposed to stop your truck before you reach the sign. Do we understand the "stop sign" now? Do we??

Next, we'll learn about something called a "crosswalk". That's when there are white stripes painted on the street. People are supposed to walk across the street where those stripes are and you're not supposed to run them over. If you hit someone with your truck while they're walking on the "crosswalk" because you haven't stopped at the "stop sign", then you get in big trouble. You might even go to jail. Of course, the person you hit might just get up and smash your pin head through your own effing windshield. Yes, that might happen too.

It's a good thing that, this morning, when you failed to stop at the stop sign and I was in the crosswalk, you didn't hit me with your truck. I guess you didn't hear me yell, "Way to stop at the stop sign you f'ing asshole!!!!" before you drove off. It's too bad there wasn't a brick handy, because I would have made sure you stopped. You probably couldn't hear a thing over the noise of the huge engine under the hood of your absurdly large and most likely gas guzzling vehicle. Being behind the wheel of such a monstrosity only serves to accentuate the impression that you may be compensating for the inability to please a woman due to the horribly inadequate penis with which you were endowed at birth. The equation works like this: the larger and more unnecessary the truck is, the smaller the penis must be. Every remotely intelligent woman is familiar with this. So, unless you're trying to pick up other men who are similarly ill equipped, you might try something in the way of a hybrid or a Mustang.

I'm sure you must have been in a hurry this morning. There must have been a sale on magnifying glass and tweezer sets down at the Small Package store. I'm sure that killing someone with your truck wasn't much of a concern compared to that. Stopping at the crosswalk could have cost you a precious second or two anyway and we can't afford to be late, now can we? It's so lucky for you that I didn't get much of a look at your face. Then I'd know you if I saw you on the street. Then you might find yourself choking on your own reproductive organs. Thank God for small favors. I would if I were you. Asshole.

Fond Regards,

Neko

Wake Up In Hell

This morning, I blinked my eyes awake and realized that it wasn't my alarm clock that had awoken me. I fumbled around for my cell phone (which has been acting as an alarm clock)and checked the time. Usually, when I wake up completely on my own, it's past time for me to be at work. Today, I was 5 minutes ahead of my alarm. I found my glasses and put them on. The light in my bedroom was on. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was jammed in a corner of the couch (which has been acting as a bed). There was a glass of red wine spilled on the floor. Ugh...I must have fallen asleep reading last night...that means I didn't take my meds or brush my teeth or anything...Oh god, I feel like crap...I've got to figure out a way not to have to get up in the mornings anymore...really, that should be my goal from now on.

By the time I finish it, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix will be the longest book I've ever read. It will narrowly beat out Tolstoy's Anna Karenina. I'm counting page numbers, of course, not word count or difficulty level. HP weighs in at 870 pages. After that, I've got one 652 page book and another 784 page novel to go before I'm done with Mr. Potter. My reward for finishing each is to buy the DVD that's next in line. At the moment, I have the first two movies and when I finish The Order of the Phoenix, I will buy the third movie on DVD. I suppose reading the book will be its own reward, but there has to be something holding me back from spending all my money at once.

I met a girl recently who told me that she had a craft business and she worked from home. As it turned out, she was an Etsy seller with a scant 4 items to offer in her store. While I think it's cool that she's actually started to get something off the ground, I don't know if it qualifies as a business. "Fake it 'till you make it." I guess. She had the luxury of working from home because her bf is loaded, not because she reached that summit via talent alone.

There's got to be a way that I can leave this mundane 8-5 world and thrive.

Hell Has New Rules

Hi All. Don't know if you got the memo, but it turns out that I'm the new ruler of Earth! Neat, huh? Anyways, before things get all crazy and out of hand, I just thought I'd let you know what the new laws are, so that nobody has to get hurt real bad. Here's the new list of rules we'll be going with from now on and what will happen if you are bad and don't listen to Neko.

Rule #1: There will be no spitting in public. Should you be witnessed spitting in public by any of my new enforcement officers, you shall recieve a ticket and a fine of $500.00.

Rule #2: All those convited of murder, rape or child molestation will be executed immediately upon a guilty verdict. As in, taken in back of the courthouse and shot.

Rule #3: There is no longer such sentence as "life in prison".

Rule #4: Welfare benefits shall extend only to those with two or fewer children. Any family on Welfare with over two children, will have to live off of the two child benefit amount.

Rule #5: Any person convited of animal cruelty shall be imprisoned and have such punishment as was inflicted on the animal involved in the case.

Rule #6: Any person who wears animal fur will be shot on sight. Persons owning garments made of animal fur prior to Rule #6 being enforced shall immediately surrender such garments to their nearest animal rescue association. Any persons posessing garments made of animal fur, or possessing animal pelts of any kind must be employed with an animal rescue association and is required to be licensed to handle such materials.

Rule #7: There will no longer be testing of any kind performed on animals. Any medicals tests that absolutely must be performed on a living test subject or on once living flesh shall henceforth be performed on prison inmates. Prison inmates do not have the option of declining to participate.

Rule #8: The flesh of animals for human consumption shall henceforth be rationed. All factory farms must immediately cease operations. Government inspectors will be dispatched to each farm in the country. Any farm owner or manager found to have shown unnecessary cruelty during the practice of farming will be immediately fed to hungry pigs and/or hogs.

Neko reserves the right to enact new laws whenever she so pleases. However, she will post each new law for one week before it shall begin to be enforced. (You have one week from the date of this notice to comply in full.)

KFC Can Go to Hell

Make your own KFC sign at KentuckyFriedCruelty.com

Making a Racket in Hell

Am I wrong in thinking that all American men who watch women's tennis are perverts? I mean, here are these atheltic women, in short skirts, sweating. When they hit they ball, they're all, "ooohh! Uuugh! Aaaah!" How many female tennis players have posed for Playboy now? I'm willing to bet that it's 5 or more.

No disrespect to the players themselves. They must obviously love the sport and they've put forth the hard work and training that it takes to get to the Australian Open, or Wimbelton. No easy task, I'm sure. And if they want to make some extra cash by gettin' nude in front of camera, then why the Hell not? Shit, more power to 'em! If I had a body like Maria Sharapova, you bet I'd take it all off for a solid chunk of cash. (Heck, I'd do it now, but people are more likely to pay me to leave my clothes on.)

In the two week lull prior to the Super Bowl, it seems like there's not much on TV sports-wise. My dad's been watching the Australian Open (men's and women's). I couldn't help but get the impression that he was getting aroused by the female matches. Shudder. I was so disgusted! Granted, I haven't been terribly fond of men in general since my breakup with Mr. Assface. It just seems like anything with a penis is scum. Rotten bastards...maybe it's a self-defense mechanism. Like, I'm on a man-hating rampage because subconciously I'm repelling anything I'm afraid might hurt me?

Well.....this isn't bad.....isn't bad at all...

Useful Tips from Hell

This is a great idea, as long as you can find someone willing to cover you in duct tape.

Hell and the Crochet Hook

I've been knitting for a while now. Granted, I've only really done scarves and a few hats that looked like pillow cases. But, it's been several years since I started. I used to knit only in the winter months. Lately, I've been so into hand crafting that I may make it a year-round hobby.

Years and years (and years) ago, my grandmother, who is an expert with the crochet hook, tried to teach me the skill. I guess I was just too young to get too into it or maybe it's because my grandmother has always lived hundreds of miles from me. It's hard to learn things like that long distance. However, this past holiday, when I went to visit, I demanded that she give me another chance to learn to crochet. This time, perhaps because I have experience with yarn now, I took to it like a fish to water.

Presenting my newest foray into crochet:

In case it's hard to tell from the pictures, it's a scarf! (yes, another scarf) I made the pompoms myself too! I like to call it 'cranberry ice' because of the colors. I really love the nice cranberry red color I found. The only problem I enountered was that I had to switch between colors quite often. So, instead of cutting the old yarn and making a knot to join it to the new color, I tried carrying the colors up the side of the scarf. The problem with that is, if you can tell from one of the pictures, it made little loops along one edge. It looks okay, but I imagine that there might be a problem with those loops catching on things once I try to wear it. I need to consult an experienced crochet person for help with that in the future.

While knitting will always be my first love, I enjoy picking up a new skill whenever possible. Crochet seems sort of angry compared to knitting. I can imagine myself steaming mad and crocheting miles of material while I tell someone off, or vent. I need to relax while I knit. However, I picked up a book of delicate lacey crochet patterns while I was in Cali and those seem to require much more concentration. If I ever figure out the friggin' lace doiley I'm making, I'll post up a pic of that too.

P.S. If you put your mouse over one of the pictures in my slideshow above, the picture will expand so you can get a better look!

Hell's Little Bookworm

"Maybe I'm the one. Maybe I'm the one..who is..a schizophrenic psycho." ~ Puddle of Mud

I've got to stop going to the damned bookstore. It's like an addiction and I keep spending money!! Oh well. I'm still doing okay for the week and books aren't a bad thing to spend your money on (unless it's a romance novel). Just imagine what my friendly Barnes and Noble checker thought when I meandered up to the register with this book and this one.

Whoa Nelly! What a combination. This probably got my name on some wierd government list somewhere. Let's just hope they don't cross reference this with my pornography purchases! (shifty eyes)

Fumar Con El Diablo En El Inferno

I finally did it! I quit smoking!! I've been trying for years, but this time I think I've finally kicked the habit. It's been seven weeks since I touched a cigarette. I used the patch. 2 weeks on the 21mg patch, 2 weeks on the 14mg patch (you're supposed to step down), about a week on the 7mg patch and then I just started forgetting to put the patch on at all. Yes, it's true that I've tried quitting before. I did cold turkey for a year and a half several years ago. I quit for 3 months last time I tried the patch. So, what makes this time any different?

It's my attitude that's different. and my mental frame. Before, when I saw someone with a cigarette, my cravings were ravenous. It was all I could do not to tackle the person and rob them of their nicotiney goodness. Now, I see a smoker, think for a minute and then arrive at, "Oh yeah, I used to do that." Smoking now has the connotation of a lifestyle long since left behind. In a way, I feel a little like a traitor, leaving my cancer sucking brethren behind. But, I can sit right next to my mom or be in a room with my dad while one of them lights up and not feel any cravings. I realize now how awful I must have smelled with all that smoke clinging to my clothes. My breath probably suffered too.

I can breathe much better now, it's true. I can jog a little ways and not drop dead. I still have the smoker mucus thing going on in the mornings though. Can't wait 'til that goes away. The most amazing thing though; I was on the shuttle this morning and realized that my mind wasn't racing a mile a minute like it used to. Either it's a good day today or that's another side effect of quitting.

Seriously though, even if you can't quit smoking, it's still healthier and less expensive to be addicted to the patch. The way I figured it, I was saving $10 a week by not buying cigarettes. Course, I was a pack a day smoker at $5/pack. The patch also lets you absorb the chemical through the skin, so your lungs don't suffer. Plus, you don't have to go outside in the freezing-ass cold to light up. Groovy.

So anyways, yay for me!

How To Look Busy In Hell

I could have sworn that I'd posted since that "squirrels and poppyseeds" thing. I returned day-before-last from California. That was interesting. You'd think I'd have a huge pile of shit on my desk to work on, but no. Just as boring as ever. So, I wrote a move review for I Am Legend (you know where to find it by now, I hope) and applied for a new job. Since I'm stuck here for another 45 minutes, I might as well post some tripe.

Neko's Guide to Looking Busy at the Office:

1. Always walk quickly, like you're in a hurry to get somewhere.

2. Try to look tired and stressed out. It helps if you furrow your brow alot and grumble quietly to yourself.

3. Carry a piece of paper, an envelope or a folder wherever you go.

4. Type up your movie reviews in MS Word, so it isn't readily apparent that what you're doing isn't work related. Cut and paste into Blogger when done.

5. Keep a pile of papers and files at your desk. Periodically rearrange them, so it looks like some progress is being made. It's the same technique you tried to fool mom with when you didn't want to finish dinner.

6. If you're going to socialize, make friends with someone on another floor.

7. Make up bullshit projects for yourself, like reorganizing the archives in the basement or highlighting employees names on the phone list with different markers depending on which department they're in.

Just some of the highlights of my week. If you're reading this blog, chances are that you have already learned how to get away with goofing off at the office.

Hell's New Flavor

Okay. So I've decided that these are the new things I'm into:

poppy seeds
squirrels
appliques
buttons

I'm going to collect squirrel things now. Lots of squirrel things. I wonder where I can get a 2008 squirrel calendar.

I'm flying out to California on Friday. More travel! At the end of the month I will have been all the way from the East Coast to the West Coast. This time, I'm going to a funeral. Mom's side of the family. I don't really like anyone on that side. I hate her husband, who I'm going to have to endure, painfully, for 5 days. My mom wants to stick me with her brother, who I haven't seen nor heard from since I was 13. Not happening. I'll get a freakin' hotel if I have to. At least I will get to see the ocean and maybe shop for some cool buttons and vintage stuff. maybe.

iHell Envy

Oh man. I want an iPhone bad. Every time I see one, I start to salivate. When I rub one off, it's the iPhone's gleaming surface I dream about. It begs you to touch it. So smooth, black and techno-geekery *swoon*! I've just about had it with Sprint anyway. They just keep making up bogus charges for me.

"Uh yeah...that's the, um....cat owner's tax and video blog accessing fee."

"But I don't have a video blog."

"Yeah, but you need that package to send text messages."

"Crap!"

"There's also a one-time phone cussing fee of $5.00 for each seperate swear word."

And then there's the fact that if you're a little late with your bill, you can't access your invoice on their website. That makes it so you can't see what they're charging you for until after you've paid for it. Plus, I'm supposed to have a plan that only costs $39.99 a month. Instead, I'm paying $125.00 twice a month?! How the Hell did that happen?? I've investigated and it's hard, really hard, to get any answers from anyone.

That little fact coupled with the newest development make the time ripe for change. Over the past 5 days or so, some psycho (or psycho machine) with nothing better to do has been calling my phone in excess of 20 times a day. There are never any messages left and nobody answers when I pick up the call. I asked customer (dis)service and they told me to call the police. The police told me to call customer service. Fucking figures, don't it? So, it's time to change my number anyway.

I'd run right out and satisfy my burning desire for an iPhone right now except that you have to have the latest version of iTunes to jumpstart your phone. My computer at home doesn't have the version of Windows I need to support the latest version of iTunes. Fuck, fuck and double fuck! What must I do??

...P.S. if I get a new phone, AT&T is going to have to check my credit, which might look bad when I try to get a car loan in 3 months.

Muddled In Hell

Agh. I've got to get my head straight. There's so much clutter and garbage blocking my flow of chi, or whatever. There are so many ideas that I'm ultra excited about, but it's like I'm running in several different directions at once. If the voices in my head would just get in line and take turns yammering at me instead of all clamboring at once for my attention, it would help. Effing voices. Christ, can you believe this is me without the methamphetamines?!

I have returned from my trip to NY; the second trip this year. The weather was remarkably fair compared to what it could have been. The worst we got was a bit of rainy drizzle. Much better than the weather that burried everything in snow at home. Once again, I was a bit disappointed with my city experience. I am always thinking it's going to be like the once time I went and had loads of fun. But, it's getting to be more and more of a letdown each time. I blame that on lack of planning on my part and tragic lack of companionship, but not on the city itself. I met my cousin's roommate, who was impressive and just a tad bit charming. Why aren't there guys in this state like that? Why do all the men in my hometown suck? Fuck this place.

My family is another story entirely. They're so great to be around for about three days and then it's just fucking irritating. Everyone's always griping at each other, just like my fucking childhood. Uh. Holidays bite hard.

So, here's basically what I did in New York:

went to a NY Islanders game (that's hockey)
went to a comedy club
learned how to crochet
finally went to MoCCA
had 2 knishes to make up for not having one last time
went to a friends-of-the-family party
chatted with (i.e. endured) my remaining kin
rode the subway by myself
went to Brooklyn
got a bunch of cool presents
had some good Italian food
experienced the Heaven-on-Earth of a real Italian pastry shop
went to the beach to hunt shells

During the first half of the trip, you couldn't wrestle the camera out of my hands. The second half, I was so jaded by everything that I took no pictures at all. And my cousin? Well, I only got to see him for about one extremely depressing hour. There may be pictures forthcoming, but I can't promise anything.

So, I'm still getting into the swing of the new year and being back at home and work. I missed my kitties terribly though and I'm happy to have their furry faces to stroke again. But, like I said, there's so much I want to get into, but can't seem to decide on anything. It would be perfect if I was quadruplets.