I made the mistake of watching television. Those of you that know me personally, know that I never turn on the television set unless it’s to then pop in a DVD or switch on the GameCube. But, I do live with someone who watches the thing on a regular basis. If you want an idea of what his tastes are, I can tell you that the Miami Heat won tonight’s game, but I can’t tell you the name of that guy who won on American Idol.
So, I’m watching Leno tonight, ‘cause that’s what was on after the game. Have you seen this Gilette commercial? I couldn’t even tell you the name of the product, except that it was a razor (no shit, Sherlock). But, the ad plays like a bad porno. Right stage, enter “scientist girl”. She’s wearing knee-high black leather boots, and a very short lab coat with apparently nothing underneath it. The pair of black rimmed reading glasses and briefcase are supposed to make you think she’s some kind of researcher. She walks up to a counter where a good-looking man is waiting and sets the briefcase down. “It’s ready,” she says, because, apparently, this is the best acting job blondie can muster. Open the briefcase and there’s the spiffy new Gilette. Cut to shots of man shaving. Fade back to couple.
Low and behold, blondie scientist girl has shed the glasses, untied her pony tail and his making out with guy’s ear. One final shot of the product and fade to black. I’m thinking, if it hadn’t been “fade to black”, it would have been “wacka-chicka wacka-chicka..bnow, bnow, bnow..” and the scientist girl sheds the lab coat and hops up on the table. Maybe I’m just over-sexed. Maybe I’ve seen too many bad pornos. Whatever the reason, I’m sure that the makers of male hair removal systems could have tried harder. Take my idea for example.
Fade in to a sunshine buttered bedroom. Woman is asleep in bed. She opens her eyes and rolls over to wake her husband. But, much to her surprise, in place of the man she recognizes as her mate, there is, instead, an apparent cave man. She screams, leaps off the bed, still holding the sheets to cover her unrated bits, and whips a can of mace from it’s place in the nightstand. The cave man dives for the bathroom entryway. Door slams behind him. Cave man’s reflection, bleary-eyed, appears in the mirror. We cut to spiffy computer generated diagrams of how our innovative new product (it’s a razor, in case you didn’t catch that) has cool titanium mesh that can sever hairs growing in any direction, blah, blah, blah. An impossibly well manicured man’s hand deposits the product in it’s battery-powered cleaning station. Cut back to the bedroom, focus on closed bathroom door. The door opens slowly and out steps a stunning, well groomed (and quite possibly gay) metrosexual with a big, white smile. Add, for effect, a gush of steam billowing out of the doorway behind him. His smile evaporates as we see S.W.A.T. officers inching toward him with heinous rifle barrels pointed his way. End of commercial. See, that leaves us open for a whole series of these things.
That’s my input on the razor thing. Now on to laundry.
Briefly after Vince Vaughn’s (drool, drool) interview with Jay, another commercial break. This next offensive, five minute piece of crap is for Woolite. A woman is sitting on a white couch with white pillows and white curtains behind her. She’s telling my fellow viewers and I about how much it irks her when she puts a brand new blouse in the wash and it comes out all stretchy and not fitting like it did in the store. My gripe here is not with the product itself, it’s with this woman’s fashion sense. First of all, when I actually decide to purchase clothing, quality is an issue. When you buy something made from chinsey fabric, you’re going to have disintegration of form integrity right away. Also, if the label says “dry clean only” Woolite is not going to cut it. Finally, just because the sign says “4 for a dollar”, doesn’t mean you’re getting a good deal. The thing that really gets me going though, is that this fashion victim is wearing a lavender…..(shudder)…..HALF SWEATER thingie!!!!! Remember my post about that absurd shit?! It’s enough to make me want to reach through the screen and give her an enthusiastic slap on the face. I’m not going to take advice from this woman, and you sure as Hell shouldn’t either!
‘Nuff said. (and all I really wanted to see was a clip from the new Omen movie)
5.27.2006
Energy Burning in Hell
Now that the warmer weather is upon us, I think it’s time to crack open a Samuel Adams Summer Ale and start my bitchy rant about the riduculous amount of energy people waste during this season. All around the neighborhood, I see people wasting energy and causing pollution where it’s completely unnecessary. And, being the enviroslut that I am, I’ve decided to let readers in on a little 411. Following are some tips, along with the usual ridicule, for solving a good portion of your sunny weather problems.
Do you use a gas powered mower to trim your grass? You’re a pussy. Think you’re a real man with your John Deer riding tractor-mower? No. You want a way to cut the lawn while holding a beer and chuckling to yourself about how easy it all is? I say again ~ you’re a pussy. A real man will go out and get one of those old-fashioned non-gas man-powered trimmers. You know, the ones with the twisty blades that you just push back and forth? (I’ll find a picture if I have to) That’s the one. These suckers build muscles, don’t pollute the air, and don’t use gas or electricity. It’s all you, baby. That’s the way to get the lawn done! What’s that you say? You don’t have time to pick up the trimmings? You don’t have time to waste on an envirofriendly solution? Well, I’ve got a quick answer to your miserable whining. I’m sure every neighborhood has a few teenage boys looking to make a quick buck. Knock one of them off their skateboard and offer them 5 bucks and a brewski to do the labor. The amount you pay them will be miniscule compared to what you’re spending on gas, oil and maintenance for the machine you’re using now. Sell that sucker at a garage sale and there’s more money in your pocket.
Better yet, if you just don’t want to deal with the grass at all, put in some native plants. It’s called xeroscaping and it saves tons on water. There are loads of flowering bushes and ornamental grasses that live naturally in your climate. They’re pretty, attract butterflies and don’t need fertilizer or more than the area’s natural rainfall. Add some mulch to keep the weeds down. Viola!
Now, if you live in suburbia, you’ve probably got another device or two that waste energy in your garage. What about the gas-powered leaf blower? If you have one, you’re a pussy. They make rakes for a reason. It doesn’t take so much more time to go ahead and rake up the remnants of fall lingering in your yard. If you pack those suckers into the trash when you’re done, your neighbors won’t be so pissed. Yes, that’s the reason they’ve been screaming and shaking their fists. That, and the fact that you let your dog crap on their petunias. If it’s time you lack, see above. Electric weed trimmer? Same deal, ya freakin’ pussy. If you’re a chick, you shouldn’t be mowing the damn lawn anyway. Your job is to bitch endlessly about why the yard isn’t done yet or, better yet, get your ass out there and pull weeds. He’ll like the way you get all sweaty out there with your ass up in the air (and so will the neighbors). Put on some sexy cut-offs, like the ones I’m wearing now (Daisy Duke had something right), tie your hair up, slip on your J-Lo shades (every girl has a pair) and get down on your hands and knees.
Do you run your air-conditioner non-stop in July? You live in the Rockies and you think it’s hot?! You’re a pussy. Nothing’s hot until you drive through New Mexico when it’s 105 degrees and your piece of crap car has no A/C. Even then, you can smoke a joint and the weather is suddenly tolerable. Just make sure you have water. While you’re away at your job, there’s no reason the apartment has to be 60 degrees. Turn that sucker on (if you must) only when you’re home. And if you’re SO much of a pussy that you can’t wait for the temperature to drop after you arrive, get a timer so that it kicks on about an hour before you plan to return. Hey, if it’s hot in your apartment and the fan isn’t helping and the open windows aren’t helping, you have the perfect excuse for a naked party! Mix up some magaritas, call up some sexy bitches and get your Spring fling on! You can even rub ice cubes on each other to keep cool. Mmm…now let’s see ya complain.
Oh no! It’s 90 degrees and you have to go to the store. Do you hop into your Exploder and burn some energy to traverse the few blocks to the liquor store, to pick up tequila for your naked party? No, you pussy! Walk! Is it too far to walk? They make these things called bicycles. They have 2 wheels, a pair of handlebars, and some pedals. Some of them even have a water bottle holder, Ooooooh! Work some of that flabby ass off and bike to the store. It takes me 5 minutes to walk to Albertsons, Wild Oats, Hollywood Video, Conoco, Petsmart and Kohls. And, I don’t even live in a large metropolitan area. I get a nice tan, a few calories melted and enough time alone to get my head together. Of course I sweat, but they make this stuff called deodorant too. Take a bottle of water (most cities don’t let you on the streets with open beer bottles), your new iPod, and hike a mile or so. If you live way out in Bennet, support a family, and need to do grocery shopping, it’s a different story. But, you can still fill the fridge for a whole month so you don’t have to make the trip to Sam’s Club so often. Do some other things while you’re joining the rest of us in civilization. Or, shop on your way home from your coporate job in the city. Less gas means more money for munchies to keep your Halo-junkie fueled for his next mission.
That’s about all for this episode. I’ve got to get back out there and weed the side yard. I’m sure I’ll get more inspiration from the morons on my block. Until then, think about the environment, your wallet, and how much sexy fun you can have in the Summer!
Do you use a gas powered mower to trim your grass? You’re a pussy. Think you’re a real man with your John Deer riding tractor-mower? No. You want a way to cut the lawn while holding a beer and chuckling to yourself about how easy it all is? I say again ~ you’re a pussy. A real man will go out and get one of those old-fashioned non-gas man-powered trimmers. You know, the ones with the twisty blades that you just push back and forth? (I’ll find a picture if I have to) That’s the one. These suckers build muscles, don’t pollute the air, and don’t use gas or electricity. It’s all you, baby. That’s the way to get the lawn done! What’s that you say? You don’t have time to pick up the trimmings? You don’t have time to waste on an envirofriendly solution? Well, I’ve got a quick answer to your miserable whining. I’m sure every neighborhood has a few teenage boys looking to make a quick buck. Knock one of them off their skateboard and offer them 5 bucks and a brewski to do the labor. The amount you pay them will be miniscule compared to what you’re spending on gas, oil and maintenance for the machine you’re using now. Sell that sucker at a garage sale and there’s more money in your pocket.
Better yet, if you just don’t want to deal with the grass at all, put in some native plants. It’s called xeroscaping and it saves tons on water. There are loads of flowering bushes and ornamental grasses that live naturally in your climate. They’re pretty, attract butterflies and don’t need fertilizer or more than the area’s natural rainfall. Add some mulch to keep the weeds down. Viola!
Now, if you live in suburbia, you’ve probably got another device or two that waste energy in your garage. What about the gas-powered leaf blower? If you have one, you’re a pussy. They make rakes for a reason. It doesn’t take so much more time to go ahead and rake up the remnants of fall lingering in your yard. If you pack those suckers into the trash when you’re done, your neighbors won’t be so pissed. Yes, that’s the reason they’ve been screaming and shaking their fists. That, and the fact that you let your dog crap on their petunias. If it’s time you lack, see above. Electric weed trimmer? Same deal, ya freakin’ pussy. If you’re a chick, you shouldn’t be mowing the damn lawn anyway. Your job is to bitch endlessly about why the yard isn’t done yet or, better yet, get your ass out there and pull weeds. He’ll like the way you get all sweaty out there with your ass up in the air (and so will the neighbors). Put on some sexy cut-offs, like the ones I’m wearing now (Daisy Duke had something right), tie your hair up, slip on your J-Lo shades (every girl has a pair) and get down on your hands and knees.
Do you run your air-conditioner non-stop in July? You live in the Rockies and you think it’s hot?! You’re a pussy. Nothing’s hot until you drive through New Mexico when it’s 105 degrees and your piece of crap car has no A/C. Even then, you can smoke a joint and the weather is suddenly tolerable. Just make sure you have water. While you’re away at your job, there’s no reason the apartment has to be 60 degrees. Turn that sucker on (if you must) only when you’re home. And if you’re SO much of a pussy that you can’t wait for the temperature to drop after you arrive, get a timer so that it kicks on about an hour before you plan to return. Hey, if it’s hot in your apartment and the fan isn’t helping and the open windows aren’t helping, you have the perfect excuse for a naked party! Mix up some magaritas, call up some sexy bitches and get your Spring fling on! You can even rub ice cubes on each other to keep cool. Mmm…now let’s see ya complain.
Oh no! It’s 90 degrees and you have to go to the store. Do you hop into your Exploder and burn some energy to traverse the few blocks to the liquor store, to pick up tequila for your naked party? No, you pussy! Walk! Is it too far to walk? They make these things called bicycles. They have 2 wheels, a pair of handlebars, and some pedals. Some of them even have a water bottle holder, Ooooooh! Work some of that flabby ass off and bike to the store. It takes me 5 minutes to walk to Albertsons, Wild Oats, Hollywood Video, Conoco, Petsmart and Kohls. And, I don’t even live in a large metropolitan area. I get a nice tan, a few calories melted and enough time alone to get my head together. Of course I sweat, but they make this stuff called deodorant too. Take a bottle of water (most cities don’t let you on the streets with open beer bottles), your new iPod, and hike a mile or so. If you live way out in Bennet, support a family, and need to do grocery shopping, it’s a different story. But, you can still fill the fridge for a whole month so you don’t have to make the trip to Sam’s Club so often. Do some other things while you’re joining the rest of us in civilization. Or, shop on your way home from your coporate job in the city. Less gas means more money for munchies to keep your Halo-junkie fueled for his next mission.
That’s about all for this episode. I’ve got to get back out there and weed the side yard. I’m sure I’ll get more inspiration from the morons on my block. Until then, think about the environment, your wallet, and how much sexy fun you can have in the Summer!
5.25.2006
Another Relationship from Hell
I’m working on another mix CD. Shenry got me into this CD swap menage e tua and this round’s theme is mine, so I’ve got to pony up. Since this computer’s way too slow and f-ed up to download music, my resources are limited to what I actually own on disc. So, I’ve been going through my old collection and listening to things I haven't played in a while. Part of that collection includes a set of discs confiscated from an old relationship. Listening to those tracks brings back memories…
Back in the day, I used to live with a guy named Mark. Silver and Shenry will remember him. We met at ‘Japan Nite’ during SXSW. He’d won tickets on the radio to fly out to Austin for the festivities (now I’m the one winning tickets on the radio, bitches!). He ended up sleeping on my couch (I used to have 3!). He decided he was in love with me, so he ended up staying. It took me a while to warm up to him, but I did eventually. I remember being really, really sick with the flu about that time.
He was a shy and awkward romantic with eclectic tastes in music, movies, art and fashion. There are a great number of artists, authors and bands that I never would have discovered if it weren’t for him. It’s been a while since I’ve blown the cobwebs off and allowed myself to remember. There’s something about music that really sinks into me, becomes part of me, entwines my heart in its thorny grasp. Certain tracks float old memories to the surface. There are a couple of albums out there that are completely ruined for me now. There’s a certain set of songs by Jeff Buckley that brings tears to my eyes immediately. No, not just tears, complete emotional breakdown. I kind of wish I had them now.
Mark also turned out to be a raging alcoholic who liked to throw me around my tiny apartment. That’s where the prefix ‘ex’ comes in. It didn’t help that he had the emotional development of a 14 year old. I sure can pick ‘em, can’t I? I put up with that for about a year and a half. We moved from Austin to San Diego together and that’s where I finally sent him packing. We were still in touch when I got married. Broke his little heart, but what did he expect? We all know I regret getting married, but I don’t wish Mark and I were still an item.
However, lounging in bed with the earphones on, flipping through track listings for a song that will join ‘Castles Made of Sand’ and ‘Living Dead Girl’ successfully, a sick nostalgia overcomes me. There were times when I had a serious relationship with someone. There were times when I returned from work, shared a meal, and lived in committed (either definition will do just fine) bliss with another person. We cooperated and joined our incomes and had a little life. There were times when I thought I was in love. There were times when I thought it was forever.
I don’t really believe in love anymore, not by my definition at least. I’m too old for that. It’s a fairy tale that little girls dream about. The kind of love I used to dream about doesn’t exist, or, if it does, it’s a bisected version, a one way street and never returned the same. As badly as you might want to ride winged horse, it’s just not gonna happen, ever, because they aren’t real. That doesn’t stop me, from time to time, from believing that “somehow, some way, this time it just might work”. You can’t stop a little girl from fantasy. By this time, however, the baggage and the scarring pile up. You try to mature, to overcome feelings of jelousy over those that came before you. You try not to let your insecurities topple everything. You try to relax and not put too much eggy hope in one basket. Good luck.
Now, I know that reading this might inspire others to leave comments of hope for me. A little story, perhaps, about how their fairytale wedding came true. Maybe, ‘don’t give up’ and ‘there’s someone out there for everyone’. Sure, comment away my friends, but it won’t do any good. It’s like listening to eye witness accounts of UFO landings tell their stories on the Discovery Channel. I want to believe, but I won’t unless it happens to me. And trying and trying at this relationship thing, and failing and failing is wearing me out. Is there any reason why I should bother? Any reason why I should put myself through the torture and pain? How many times does it take? How many loves does it take to get to the center of my heart (that one was a corny joke)?
I remember asking a friend of mine once if she thought I was a slut. She hesitated. Then she offered, “Well, yeah, but who says being a slut is a bad thing?” Her answer didn’t offend. The probable reason I asked in the first place is that I think I’m a slut and was looking for a second opinion. If you scroll down a few posts, you’ll find my entry about “the week of the horn dog”. I like sex. I LOVE sex! Whoever doesn’t, they have my pity. Sex is an f-ing wicked cool thing. But, for me, it’s more like eating. You pee when you have to pee, you munch when you’re hungry, and lord hopes you get it on when you’re horny. That’s almost completely separate from what the heart needs. That particular organ is so much harder to satisfy. My particular heart tells me that it’s starving. I’d cut the damned thing out if I didn’t need it to pump blood. F-ing emotions, f-ing needs.
The fact is, I’m far better off not being in a relationship. Looking back through all my journals (see last post) and snapshot memories, I find that the aspects that I like most about myself disappear when ‘the new guy’ steps in. Without the conflicts of a significant other, I’m far more grounded, logical, and emotionally stable. I’ve never attempted suicide while single. Yet, while involved with a man, I’ve tried and failed 3 times. I have, until recently, supported myself and handled the challenges of daily life with a fair rate of success. So, what is it that makes me mourn my lack of companionship? You can ask me, but I can’t say, because it’s completely beyond me. If every relationship is doomed to fail, and I’m better off without one, why do I miss them?
I seem to have droned on endlessly this time. I went from music to Mark to why I’m not in a relationship, or why am I not in a relationship. Thanks for sticking around! Don’t you have better things to do? Up and down, and all around. It’s what you call a menstrual cycle. But, it doesn’t make what I have to say any less valid.
Back in the day, I used to live with a guy named Mark. Silver and Shenry will remember him. We met at ‘Japan Nite’ during SXSW. He’d won tickets on the radio to fly out to Austin for the festivities (now I’m the one winning tickets on the radio, bitches!). He ended up sleeping on my couch (I used to have 3!). He decided he was in love with me, so he ended up staying. It took me a while to warm up to him, but I did eventually. I remember being really, really sick with the flu about that time.
He was a shy and awkward romantic with eclectic tastes in music, movies, art and fashion. There are a great number of artists, authors and bands that I never would have discovered if it weren’t for him. It’s been a while since I’ve blown the cobwebs off and allowed myself to remember. There’s something about music that really sinks into me, becomes part of me, entwines my heart in its thorny grasp. Certain tracks float old memories to the surface. There are a couple of albums out there that are completely ruined for me now. There’s a certain set of songs by Jeff Buckley that brings tears to my eyes immediately. No, not just tears, complete emotional breakdown. I kind of wish I had them now.
Mark also turned out to be a raging alcoholic who liked to throw me around my tiny apartment. That’s where the prefix ‘ex’ comes in. It didn’t help that he had the emotional development of a 14 year old. I sure can pick ‘em, can’t I? I put up with that for about a year and a half. We moved from Austin to San Diego together and that’s where I finally sent him packing. We were still in touch when I got married. Broke his little heart, but what did he expect? We all know I regret getting married, but I don’t wish Mark and I were still an item.
However, lounging in bed with the earphones on, flipping through track listings for a song that will join ‘Castles Made of Sand’ and ‘Living Dead Girl’ successfully, a sick nostalgia overcomes me. There were times when I had a serious relationship with someone. There were times when I returned from work, shared a meal, and lived in committed (either definition will do just fine) bliss with another person. We cooperated and joined our incomes and had a little life. There were times when I thought I was in love. There were times when I thought it was forever.
I don’t really believe in love anymore, not by my definition at least. I’m too old for that. It’s a fairy tale that little girls dream about. The kind of love I used to dream about doesn’t exist, or, if it does, it’s a bisected version, a one way street and never returned the same. As badly as you might want to ride winged horse, it’s just not gonna happen, ever, because they aren’t real. That doesn’t stop me, from time to time, from believing that “somehow, some way, this time it just might work”. You can’t stop a little girl from fantasy. By this time, however, the baggage and the scarring pile up. You try to mature, to overcome feelings of jelousy over those that came before you. You try not to let your insecurities topple everything. You try to relax and not put too much eggy hope in one basket. Good luck.
Now, I know that reading this might inspire others to leave comments of hope for me. A little story, perhaps, about how their fairytale wedding came true. Maybe, ‘don’t give up’ and ‘there’s someone out there for everyone’. Sure, comment away my friends, but it won’t do any good. It’s like listening to eye witness accounts of UFO landings tell their stories on the Discovery Channel. I want to believe, but I won’t unless it happens to me. And trying and trying at this relationship thing, and failing and failing is wearing me out. Is there any reason why I should bother? Any reason why I should put myself through the torture and pain? How many times does it take? How many loves does it take to get to the center of my heart (that one was a corny joke)?
I remember asking a friend of mine once if she thought I was a slut. She hesitated. Then she offered, “Well, yeah, but who says being a slut is a bad thing?” Her answer didn’t offend. The probable reason I asked in the first place is that I think I’m a slut and was looking for a second opinion. If you scroll down a few posts, you’ll find my entry about “the week of the horn dog”. I like sex. I LOVE sex! Whoever doesn’t, they have my pity. Sex is an f-ing wicked cool thing. But, for me, it’s more like eating. You pee when you have to pee, you munch when you’re hungry, and lord hopes you get it on when you’re horny. That’s almost completely separate from what the heart needs. That particular organ is so much harder to satisfy. My particular heart tells me that it’s starving. I’d cut the damned thing out if I didn’t need it to pump blood. F-ing emotions, f-ing needs.
The fact is, I’m far better off not being in a relationship. Looking back through all my journals (see last post) and snapshot memories, I find that the aspects that I like most about myself disappear when ‘the new guy’ steps in. Without the conflicts of a significant other, I’m far more grounded, logical, and emotionally stable. I’ve never attempted suicide while single. Yet, while involved with a man, I’ve tried and failed 3 times. I have, until recently, supported myself and handled the challenges of daily life with a fair rate of success. So, what is it that makes me mourn my lack of companionship? You can ask me, but I can’t say, because it’s completely beyond me. If every relationship is doomed to fail, and I’m better off without one, why do I miss them?
I seem to have droned on endlessly this time. I went from music to Mark to why I’m not in a relationship, or why am I not in a relationship. Thanks for sticking around! Don’t you have better things to do? Up and down, and all around. It’s what you call a menstrual cycle. But, it doesn’t make what I have to say any less valid.
5.24.2006
The Legal System From Hell
The ex sent me a letter. He’s not supposed to do that, according to the protection order he keeps ignoring. I’m supposed to report these violations, but it sure as Hell isn’t easy. I have a victim’s advocate downtown in the city. She’s supposed to help me with things like this. After two weeks, she finally responded to my voice mails with one of her own. The voice mail advised me to open a new case with my local Sheriff’s office. I was going to do that anyway.
Today, I got around to calling the Sheriff for the county in which I reside. An officer was sent to my home. He was a prick. You were expecting maybe…Officer Mary Poppins perhaps? I showed him the letter. I showed him the protection order. He asked me what I wanted him to do about it. I reminded him that I’m supposed to report violations of the protection order and he’s supposed to enforce them. He didn’t take the copy of the order I gave him. He didn’t take the damn letter either. He didn’t even take a statement. What he did take was a couple of notes and a photocopy of the envelope. Surprised? I suppose not. After all, this is the same county that let the ex escape so he could pay me that nasty little visit. I should probably sue. Daddy says, “You can’t fight city hall.” City hall can kiss my ass.
Officer Sunshine was able to offer me one tiny little piece of information. He mentioned that when an inmate sends mail, it remains unopened until it’s inspected by the facility and then sealed. Maybe I should call the facility. I guess I could have thought of that on my own. Two of the counties that the ex was previously incarcerated in have phone numbers that a person may call 24/7 and find out the status of an inmate. The state facility in which the ex will be spending the next 12 years offers no such convenience. I call the department of corrections. The man on the other end of the line tells me I should call “inmate locator”. It’s 5:00, and from past experience, I know that if I call this number after 5 or on the weekends, I get an answering service, which tells me that, “We only work here from 8-5 on weekdays. If you’ve got an emergency, you’re fucked.” I relay that to the man and explain briefly my situation. He’s kind enough to offer me the phone number to the facility directly.
I call the facility directly. The man asks me which building the ex is being held in. I don’t know that, we don’t exactly have that kind of relationship. I only know to call Buena Vista because of the return address on this letter. The man tells me to call back tomorrow after 8. I try to explain what it is that I need. He interrupts and tells me again to call after 8 tomorrow. Great. And I thought I was finally getting somewhere.
That’s not the reason I had a crappy morning. It’s just a happy little side dish. Somewhere out there in that great big world of springtime sunshine, there’s a middle finger pointed straight at me.
Today, I got around to calling the Sheriff for the county in which I reside. An officer was sent to my home. He was a prick. You were expecting maybe…Officer Mary Poppins perhaps? I showed him the letter. I showed him the protection order. He asked me what I wanted him to do about it. I reminded him that I’m supposed to report violations of the protection order and he’s supposed to enforce them. He didn’t take the copy of the order I gave him. He didn’t take the damn letter either. He didn’t even take a statement. What he did take was a couple of notes and a photocopy of the envelope. Surprised? I suppose not. After all, this is the same county that let the ex escape so he could pay me that nasty little visit. I should probably sue. Daddy says, “You can’t fight city hall.” City hall can kiss my ass.
Officer Sunshine was able to offer me one tiny little piece of information. He mentioned that when an inmate sends mail, it remains unopened until it’s inspected by the facility and then sealed. Maybe I should call the facility. I guess I could have thought of that on my own. Two of the counties that the ex was previously incarcerated in have phone numbers that a person may call 24/7 and find out the status of an inmate. The state facility in which the ex will be spending the next 12 years offers no such convenience. I call the department of corrections. The man on the other end of the line tells me I should call “inmate locator”. It’s 5:00, and from past experience, I know that if I call this number after 5 or on the weekends, I get an answering service, which tells me that, “We only work here from 8-5 on weekdays. If you’ve got an emergency, you’re fucked.” I relay that to the man and explain briefly my situation. He’s kind enough to offer me the phone number to the facility directly.
I call the facility directly. The man asks me which building the ex is being held in. I don’t know that, we don’t exactly have that kind of relationship. I only know to call Buena Vista because of the return address on this letter. The man tells me to call back tomorrow after 8. I try to explain what it is that I need. He interrupts and tells me again to call after 8 tomorrow. Great. And I thought I was finally getting somewhere.
That’s not the reason I had a crappy morning. It’s just a happy little side dish. Somewhere out there in that great big world of springtime sunshine, there’s a middle finger pointed straight at me.
5.21.2006
The Hell I'm Living
Money Hungry. The 1995 edition of Webster’s College Dictionary has no definition of this term. In common usage, I believe it describes someone who hoards cash or who strives only for monetary gain. I think another definition is in order; A person or persons who desperately desire funding. That would, of course, apply to myself.
With ten dollars and change left in the bank, zero dollars in cash, one eighth of a tank of gas and no employment prospects, my life has hit a low point. Now, it’s not nearly at its lowest point; I’ve been much further down than this. At least I have a home and food and parents to beg money from should I not be able to stretch myself to the next paycheck. Not as low as I could be, but definitely feeling that I should be doing much better. Tomorrow is my father’s birthday, and my uncle’s, since they’re twins. I have absolutely nothing to give. That makes me feel pretty shitty. I can fashion a card and a coupon booklet out of the craft supplies I have in the house. I can use the last of what I have to buy ingredients for a nice, home-cooked dinner. That, and a long distance phone call, are going to have to cut it. That’s the best I can do for now.
Dangerously nearing “the big three-o” and being in the position that I’m in has made me think lately. It’s made me think really hard about what the Hell I’m doing with my life and where I should be by now. Yes, I’ve had some major setbacks. I’ve gotten married, divorced, survived an attempt on my life, overcome drug addiction, been through an intense legal drama, moved across the country twice, had countless relationships (and countless break-ups), been in the hospital twice and reunited with my estranged family member. That’s a load of shit to handle. But, the time has passed when I could have used any of that as an excuse. It’s been almost two years now that I’ve been under my father’s roof. I should be old enough and experienced enough to be following a much more prosperous path in life.
Let me share some of the conclusions and resolutions that I’ve arrived at. Monday morning (it’s here already, isn’t it?), I’ve got to stop dragging my feet and step up the job hunt. That one’s a no-brainer. No more Harvest Moon for me until I have found employment. That includes revamping my approach to the Passion Parties gig. There are a million things that I’ll wish I’d gotten to when I start working again, and, “I should have spent more time playing video games” is not an idea that I think I’ll have. After I’ve done what I can each day to hunt for jobs, I have to sift through my old things and clear out some of the cobwebs. I don’t need all of those reminders anymore. That’s one thing.
The next stage is to severely circumcise my spending. If I can start earning regular pay, I need to be saving it, hoarding it, investing it. Did you know that I have absolutely no investments? At my age, any savvy individual would have something socked away or something growing. Not me though, I’ve been pissing everything away! (but, berating myself won’t get me anywhere) I need to pull out those 401(k) documents from my old job and see what needs to be done to take care of that. It’s not much, but it’s a start. This way, next time I find myself without work, I won’t be so desperate and low-down. I’ve got to remember what it was like to have nothing at all and ensure that it won’t happen again. (Remember, Neko. This time, you should remember.)
It is absolutely imperative that I change my current living situation. There’s been more than enough time for me to recover from the damage that’s been done to my life. Well, maybe not recover completely, but at least move on to better things. I received some bad news last week about my previous plans to relocate. The girl I was supposed to share quarters with has decided to back out of our little plan. I see now that I’d been relying on that for too long. It’s clear that I’ve got to take control of things and be more “pro-active” with that aspect of my future. So, part of finding work, saving money and clearing out the trappings of my former life will be steps toward that objective.
It’s not so much that I think readers of Little Tragedies will be interested or even care about my plans and my current conditions. This blog is still what it was intended to be initially. That is, a resting place for my thoughts and a record of my footsteps through this twisted existence. Anything else is just a curious side effect. When I lived all alone in The South, I kept a paper journal of my travels. I used to sit alone in restaurants and scribble my thoughts down in notebooks. Most of the time, my entries were about the food I was eating or the people who were around me. Most of the time, I did it just to keep myself company. During a portion of that time, I had no one to talk to except my cat. I felt like a ghost drifting through that old town. No one looked at me, spoke to me, or acknowledged my existence in any way.
When I go back and re-read those meandering notes, I find myself admiring that young Neko. She was a person who did things completely independent of anyone else. She had a certain strength of character. She had a certain depression-fueled creativity. She was beginning to discover something. That growth was stunted by a series of events and I feel that I could have learned something more. In a way, sometimes I wish I could go back to that place in time. I could have saved myself from so much of the Hell I’ve been through. I’d be a completely different person from who I am now. But, I can’t go back and in a way, that’s a good thing. What my life has been to this point has made me wiser and more resourceful. I’m terribly scarred, naturally. What is it I always tell people about scars? “They’re darn cool” Wait, that wasn’t it…”They show that you’ve been through some shit.” Yes, that’s the one.
With ten dollars and change left in the bank, zero dollars in cash, one eighth of a tank of gas and no employment prospects, my life has hit a low point. Now, it’s not nearly at its lowest point; I’ve been much further down than this. At least I have a home and food and parents to beg money from should I not be able to stretch myself to the next paycheck. Not as low as I could be, but definitely feeling that I should be doing much better. Tomorrow is my father’s birthday, and my uncle’s, since they’re twins. I have absolutely nothing to give. That makes me feel pretty shitty. I can fashion a card and a coupon booklet out of the craft supplies I have in the house. I can use the last of what I have to buy ingredients for a nice, home-cooked dinner. That, and a long distance phone call, are going to have to cut it. That’s the best I can do for now.
Dangerously nearing “the big three-o” and being in the position that I’m in has made me think lately. It’s made me think really hard about what the Hell I’m doing with my life and where I should be by now. Yes, I’ve had some major setbacks. I’ve gotten married, divorced, survived an attempt on my life, overcome drug addiction, been through an intense legal drama, moved across the country twice, had countless relationships (and countless break-ups), been in the hospital twice and reunited with my estranged family member. That’s a load of shit to handle. But, the time has passed when I could have used any of that as an excuse. It’s been almost two years now that I’ve been under my father’s roof. I should be old enough and experienced enough to be following a much more prosperous path in life.
Let me share some of the conclusions and resolutions that I’ve arrived at. Monday morning (it’s here already, isn’t it?), I’ve got to stop dragging my feet and step up the job hunt. That one’s a no-brainer. No more Harvest Moon for me until I have found employment. That includes revamping my approach to the Passion Parties gig. There are a million things that I’ll wish I’d gotten to when I start working again, and, “I should have spent more time playing video games” is not an idea that I think I’ll have. After I’ve done what I can each day to hunt for jobs, I have to sift through my old things and clear out some of the cobwebs. I don’t need all of those reminders anymore. That’s one thing.
The next stage is to severely circumcise my spending. If I can start earning regular pay, I need to be saving it, hoarding it, investing it. Did you know that I have absolutely no investments? At my age, any savvy individual would have something socked away or something growing. Not me though, I’ve been pissing everything away! (but, berating myself won’t get me anywhere) I need to pull out those 401(k) documents from my old job and see what needs to be done to take care of that. It’s not much, but it’s a start. This way, next time I find myself without work, I won’t be so desperate and low-down. I’ve got to remember what it was like to have nothing at all and ensure that it won’t happen again. (Remember, Neko. This time, you should remember.)
It is absolutely imperative that I change my current living situation. There’s been more than enough time for me to recover from the damage that’s been done to my life. Well, maybe not recover completely, but at least move on to better things. I received some bad news last week about my previous plans to relocate. The girl I was supposed to share quarters with has decided to back out of our little plan. I see now that I’d been relying on that for too long. It’s clear that I’ve got to take control of things and be more “pro-active” with that aspect of my future. So, part of finding work, saving money and clearing out the trappings of my former life will be steps toward that objective.
It’s not so much that I think readers of Little Tragedies will be interested or even care about my plans and my current conditions. This blog is still what it was intended to be initially. That is, a resting place for my thoughts and a record of my footsteps through this twisted existence. Anything else is just a curious side effect. When I lived all alone in The South, I kept a paper journal of my travels. I used to sit alone in restaurants and scribble my thoughts down in notebooks. Most of the time, my entries were about the food I was eating or the people who were around me. Most of the time, I did it just to keep myself company. During a portion of that time, I had no one to talk to except my cat. I felt like a ghost drifting through that old town. No one looked at me, spoke to me, or acknowledged my existence in any way.
When I go back and re-read those meandering notes, I find myself admiring that young Neko. She was a person who did things completely independent of anyone else. She had a certain strength of character. She had a certain depression-fueled creativity. She was beginning to discover something. That growth was stunted by a series of events and I feel that I could have learned something more. In a way, sometimes I wish I could go back to that place in time. I could have saved myself from so much of the Hell I’ve been through. I’d be a completely different person from who I am now. But, I can’t go back and in a way, that’s a good thing. What my life has been to this point has made me wiser and more resourceful. I’m terribly scarred, naturally. What is it I always tell people about scars? “They’re darn cool” Wait, that wasn’t it…”They show that you’ve been through some shit.” Yes, that’s the one.
5.19.2006
A Little Porthole into Neko's Hell
This article is right up my alley today.
This is what it's like to be me (I can't promise this will be interesting): Woke up on the couch. It's about 1:30pm and I'm all wrapped up in cords. It looks like I fell asleeep watching Sleepy Hollow with my portable DVD player in my lap. I lay there for a few more minutes, wondering if my bladder is really full enough to warrent getting up. Deciding that it's fairly urgent, I untangle myself and stumble to the downstairs bathroom, glancing at the wall clock on the way. Christ, it's already so late? Cross out half the things on my mental "to-do list" due to time constraints.
Then, I stumble to the upstairs bathroom and squirt saline into my eyes. The creature in the mirror seems dangerous, so I grab my pills and get out of there quickly. About the time my bare feet hit the linoleum of the kitchen floor is about the time my brain powers on. When it happens, it is no slow process. My thoughts go from snaily, brainstem basics to a cage full of rabid monkeys. 0 to 60 in 1.5 seconds. It would be fantastic if the rabid monkeys were a bit more organized and a whole lot less neurotic. I have what I think are great ideas sometimes. Like, "If I were to blog first thing in the morning, my posts would be so much crazier and entertaining", and that might be the case if I didn't have to sit here for a half hour waiting for this chunk of shit to cooperate with me. (watch my post get deleted just for writing that)
In the kitchen, I scour fridge and cupboard for a suitable, low effort bite to swallow with my meds. Some liquid too. Is it a hot tea day, or a mixed berry juice day? Eyes shift toward the large open windows and up at the sky for an assesment of the weather situation. Eyes shift back down toward the elementary schoolers on recess. Three of them watching me from behind the back fence. I turn back around and scratch my ass. I decide it's a hot tea day and dig around for some peanut butter. As I'm spreading a piece of whole wheat mini pita bread with the nutty goodness, I notice the back of the jar (is it still a jar if it's plastic?) has a warning. "Allery notice: contains peanuts". Um...okay. Some people are apparently more retarded than I am.
Strawberry preserves seem like a good addition to breakfast. I finished the jar, but there's still a little left that I couldn't get with the knife. My tongue tries to reach it. Sticky. As I send my fingers in to retrieve the leftover jam, I notice that I'm shaking. Is that because I haven't taken my meds yet, or because I haven't had a cigarette in 2 days and I'm going through withdrawl? As soon as my tea cools down, I'll swallow my meds and a half hour after that, I'll be normal enough to blend in with the rest of society. Suddenly, I decide that I'm in love with the person at Celestial Seasons who decided that tea bags shouldn't have staples anymore, because people these days like to microwave their tea. Whoever you are, kudos to you my friend!
Every morning, I check the front table for a note from my father. Especially, now that I'm not employed, these notes are demands for some sort of chore to be done. The "Please" is like the letter "t" in French, it's there, but it's not really expressed. "Please clean up your brother's room this week. Thanks." It's like being back in fucking high school again. I have to move. I swear to myself that when I get back to working, I'll save every penny and U-Haul my ass out of here as fast as possible. The next check I do is for my kitties. It's like a little game of mine to guess where they'll be. When I find them, I say good morning and scratch behind their ears. Just checking in.
I'll do a couple of things on the computer and then hop in the shower. I can't really start anything serious until I've had a shower. "Okay, I'm ready to start my day now! What? It's 5 pm already?!" I hope I can get out there today and pull weeds before the weather decides I should stay inside. Although, it's late enough that I can start drinking and switch on Harvest Moon instead...
This is what it's like to be me (I can't promise this will be interesting): Woke up on the couch. It's about 1:30pm and I'm all wrapped up in cords. It looks like I fell asleeep watching Sleepy Hollow with my portable DVD player in my lap. I lay there for a few more minutes, wondering if my bladder is really full enough to warrent getting up. Deciding that it's fairly urgent, I untangle myself and stumble to the downstairs bathroom, glancing at the wall clock on the way. Christ, it's already so late? Cross out half the things on my mental "to-do list" due to time constraints.
Then, I stumble to the upstairs bathroom and squirt saline into my eyes. The creature in the mirror seems dangerous, so I grab my pills and get out of there quickly. About the time my bare feet hit the linoleum of the kitchen floor is about the time my brain powers on. When it happens, it is no slow process. My thoughts go from snaily, brainstem basics to a cage full of rabid monkeys. 0 to 60 in 1.5 seconds. It would be fantastic if the rabid monkeys were a bit more organized and a whole lot less neurotic. I have what I think are great ideas sometimes. Like, "If I were to blog first thing in the morning, my posts would be so much crazier and entertaining", and that might be the case if I didn't have to sit here for a half hour waiting for this chunk of shit to cooperate with me. (watch my post get deleted just for writing that)
In the kitchen, I scour fridge and cupboard for a suitable, low effort bite to swallow with my meds. Some liquid too. Is it a hot tea day, or a mixed berry juice day? Eyes shift toward the large open windows and up at the sky for an assesment of the weather situation. Eyes shift back down toward the elementary schoolers on recess. Three of them watching me from behind the back fence. I turn back around and scratch my ass. I decide it's a hot tea day and dig around for some peanut butter. As I'm spreading a piece of whole wheat mini pita bread with the nutty goodness, I notice the back of the jar (is it still a jar if it's plastic?) has a warning. "Allery notice: contains peanuts". Um...okay. Some people are apparently more retarded than I am.
Strawberry preserves seem like a good addition to breakfast. I finished the jar, but there's still a little left that I couldn't get with the knife. My tongue tries to reach it. Sticky. As I send my fingers in to retrieve the leftover jam, I notice that I'm shaking. Is that because I haven't taken my meds yet, or because I haven't had a cigarette in 2 days and I'm going through withdrawl? As soon as my tea cools down, I'll swallow my meds and a half hour after that, I'll be normal enough to blend in with the rest of society. Suddenly, I decide that I'm in love with the person at Celestial Seasons who decided that tea bags shouldn't have staples anymore, because people these days like to microwave their tea. Whoever you are, kudos to you my friend!
Every morning, I check the front table for a note from my father. Especially, now that I'm not employed, these notes are demands for some sort of chore to be done. The "Please" is like the letter "t" in French, it's there, but it's not really expressed. "Please clean up your brother's room this week. Thanks." It's like being back in fucking high school again. I have to move. I swear to myself that when I get back to working, I'll save every penny and U-Haul my ass out of here as fast as possible. The next check I do is for my kitties. It's like a little game of mine to guess where they'll be. When I find them, I say good morning and scratch behind their ears. Just checking in.
I'll do a couple of things on the computer and then hop in the shower. I can't really start anything serious until I've had a shower. "Okay, I'm ready to start my day now! What? It's 5 pm already?!" I hope I can get out there today and pull weeds before the weather decides I should stay inside. Although, it's late enough that I can start drinking and switch on Harvest Moon instead...
5.15.2006
Hell or High Water?
Here's another one of these things. Ever wonder what it feels like to be unemployed? Imagine doing these things all day. Or not. Whatever.
01) A conscientious lawn mower who cuts it at least once a week or a procrastinating lawn moving avoider who lets it reach nigh jungle level before you cut it?
I don't mow the lawn. That's what men are for.
02) One who likes to have sex while music is playing or one who likes to have sex without any musical distraction?
Doesn't matter. Music is a double-edged sword as far as sex is concerned.
03) The kind of person who would have a fire (bonfire or in a firebowl) despite local laws prohibiting them or the kind of person who wouldn't because, hey, they're illegal?
Fire! Fire! Fire!!!!
04) A hard-spot-to-get weed-whacker user or an "if the lawn mower can't reach it, it's not getting cut" type?
I'd rip that fucker out by hand. Too many people with too many lazy-ass, fuel burning, energy wasting devices out there (hey, there's another post I can do!)
05) Preferring of wooden decks or preferring of stone / formed concrete blocks / brick decks?
The barefoot person in me says, wooden, but the enviro slut in me says concrete/brick
06) A fan of winter sports (hockey, skating, curling) or summer sports (baseball, golf, volleyball)?
probably winter sports, when forced to choose.
07) Happy with your neighbours or unhappy with your neighbours?
I don't know my neighbors, so I guess that'd be, "happy with them"
08) One who tries to shoo away bees / run away from them or one who leaves them alone knowing they'll just go away once they realize you're not a flower and not a threat?
just hold still and let them fly away on their own. you don't fuck with them, they don't fuck with you
09) A lover of structured fun or a lover of unstructured fun?
fun is fun, structured or no.
10) Selfish with your possessions or selfish with your personal time?
possessions, definately. The ex was always "borrowing" my stuff without asking and then ruining whatever it was and claiming it was his to begin with. (bastard)
Hoorah! I got through this without my computer choking!
01) A conscientious lawn mower who cuts it at least once a week or a procrastinating lawn moving avoider who lets it reach nigh jungle level before you cut it?
I don't mow the lawn. That's what men are for.
02) One who likes to have sex while music is playing or one who likes to have sex without any musical distraction?
Doesn't matter. Music is a double-edged sword as far as sex is concerned.
03) The kind of person who would have a fire (bonfire or in a firebowl) despite local laws prohibiting them or the kind of person who wouldn't because, hey, they're illegal?
Fire! Fire! Fire!!!!
04) A hard-spot-to-get weed-whacker user or an "if the lawn mower can't reach it, it's not getting cut" type?
I'd rip that fucker out by hand. Too many people with too many lazy-ass, fuel burning, energy wasting devices out there (hey, there's another post I can do!)
05) Preferring of wooden decks or preferring of stone / formed concrete blocks / brick decks?
The barefoot person in me says, wooden, but the enviro slut in me says concrete/brick
06) A fan of winter sports (hockey, skating, curling) or summer sports (baseball, golf, volleyball)?
probably winter sports, when forced to choose.
07) Happy with your neighbours or unhappy with your neighbours?
I don't know my neighbors, so I guess that'd be, "happy with them"
08) One who tries to shoo away bees / run away from them or one who leaves them alone knowing they'll just go away once they realize you're not a flower and not a threat?
just hold still and let them fly away on their own. you don't fuck with them, they don't fuck with you
09) A lover of structured fun or a lover of unstructured fun?
fun is fun, structured or no.
10) Selfish with your possessions or selfish with your personal time?
possessions, definately. The ex was always "borrowing" my stuff without asking and then ruining whatever it was and claiming it was his to begin with. (bastard)
Hoorah! I got through this without my computer choking!
5.09.2006
Hell-o My Name is Neko and I'm a Sex Addict
The "week of the horn-dog" is now upon me. It's the week when my standards drop to rock bottom. The week when I want to hop up on the fence and yowl like a cat in heat. The pheremones jumping off my skin must be incredible right now. My body has needs and the brain shrinks away in fear of the beast that is my loins. No man, woman or 19-year-old virgin is safe from the creature. It's like going shopping as a millionaire, "I'll take one of each." Crazy shit.
I was sitting at home today, trying to care for myself and my beastly desires. It only serves to whet the stone. I need serious grinding, no holds barred, and I'm not sure if there's enough to satisfy me. Things that I'd normally be shy to express have become temporarily passe. My cats are swirling around my ankles. Animals can sense these things. (and NO, I don't advocate inter-species fornication!!)
Like a junkie in withdrawl, I need a fix. Any desperate junkie will settle for the first thing he can get. It doesn't matter if he found it in a baggie in the gutter. It doesn't even matter if it's not even narcotic, he'll shoot it up just to make sure. That's the grizly truth folks. Believe me, I've been there. There's some more grizly truth for ya. Now you know me better. A junkie always want the "primo shit", but he'll settle.
Now that I've given up on shooting up, carnal desires are my dope. I know where the "primo shit" is. There's only one man I know of that can supply me with that kind of ecstacy. His name is Seven and he knows who he is. But, like I said, a junkie will sometimes settle. Seven's not the kind of guy you call when you just want to get busy. That's the kind of connection you have to nurture. He's the kind of guy you want to spend all day with, like a chocolate covered cannoli, not like a candy bar. What I need right now is a candy bar. A quick fix. A quick and dirty and get out of my house kind of hook-up. And I think I know just where to find it...
I was sitting at home today, trying to care for myself and my beastly desires. It only serves to whet the stone. I need serious grinding, no holds barred, and I'm not sure if there's enough to satisfy me. Things that I'd normally be shy to express have become temporarily passe. My cats are swirling around my ankles. Animals can sense these things. (and NO, I don't advocate inter-species fornication!!)
Like a junkie in withdrawl, I need a fix. Any desperate junkie will settle for the first thing he can get. It doesn't matter if he found it in a baggie in the gutter. It doesn't even matter if it's not even narcotic, he'll shoot it up just to make sure. That's the grizly truth folks. Believe me, I've been there. There's some more grizly truth for ya. Now you know me better. A junkie always want the "primo shit", but he'll settle.
Now that I've given up on shooting up, carnal desires are my dope. I know where the "primo shit" is. There's only one man I know of that can supply me with that kind of ecstacy. His name is Seven and he knows who he is. But, like I said, a junkie will sometimes settle. Seven's not the kind of guy you call when you just want to get busy. That's the kind of connection you have to nurture. He's the kind of guy you want to spend all day with, like a chocolate covered cannoli, not like a candy bar. What I need right now is a candy bar. A quick fix. A quick and dirty and get out of my house kind of hook-up. And I think I know just where to find it...
5.08.2006
Would You Rather Go To Hell, or...
I swiped this from www.monsterpiggymonkeybubble.com, who I believe swiped it from somewhere else. That's what this great internet thing is all about, right?
Are you:
01) Pure chocolate (either milk or dark) or chocolate mixed with stuff (peanuts, almonds, rice puffs, etc.)?
I'd love to say dark chocolate, because that's what I like the best, but it doesn't really describe me. In reality, I'm more like chocolate covered fruit or krispies or something.
02) Someone with a neat, beautiful signature or someone with a horrible chicken-scratch signature?
I try to make my signature as unintelligible as possible, but the rest of my script is usually tidy.
03) Tolerant of phone solicitors because they might be offering something you want or intolerant of phone solicitors because they're annoying you at home?
I'd say that if passivity is intolerance, then I am that. Usually, I just don't answer my phone.
04) Joysticks make for the better gaming overall or gamepads make for the better gaming overall?
Gamepads. I could never get used to the stick. To me, stick says "computer gaming", whereas gamepads say "home console".
05) A lover of fast automobiles or a lover of reliable, sturdy automobiles?
What?! I can't have both?? Since my current ride is on the verge of unreliable, I'd go for the sturdy one.
06) The regular holidays should be kept as-is even if they have a religious background or all holidays should be completely secular?
I say that people should celebrate their holidays the way they want to. To each his own.
07) Expecting that there will be ETs walking freely on Earth within your lifetime or expecting that it will happen after you're dead if at all?
I don't think that any being that has mastered intergalactic travel would come anywhere near this planet - now or after I'm dead.
08) Needing of quiet when you work or enjoying noise (radio, tv, conversation) when you work?
I need to have it as quiet as possible.
09) A karaoke singer or a karaoke critic?
Singer. I've always had this burning desire to do karaoke. I'm just too nervous. Anyone can be a critic, how much talent does that take?
10) One who thinks that you should honestly critique children's work (so they can improve) or one who thinks you should always praise children's work?
I'm really not good with children, but I'd go for the gentle side of honesty.
Are you:
01) Pure chocolate (either milk or dark) or chocolate mixed with stuff (peanuts, almonds, rice puffs, etc.)?
I'd love to say dark chocolate, because that's what I like the best, but it doesn't really describe me. In reality, I'm more like chocolate covered fruit or krispies or something.
02) Someone with a neat, beautiful signature or someone with a horrible chicken-scratch signature?
I try to make my signature as unintelligible as possible, but the rest of my script is usually tidy.
03) Tolerant of phone solicitors because they might be offering something you want or intolerant of phone solicitors because they're annoying you at home?
I'd say that if passivity is intolerance, then I am that. Usually, I just don't answer my phone.
04) Joysticks make for the better gaming overall or gamepads make for the better gaming overall?
Gamepads. I could never get used to the stick. To me, stick says "computer gaming", whereas gamepads say "home console".
05) A lover of fast automobiles or a lover of reliable, sturdy automobiles?
What?! I can't have both?? Since my current ride is on the verge of unreliable, I'd go for the sturdy one.
06) The regular holidays should be kept as-is even if they have a religious background or all holidays should be completely secular?
I say that people should celebrate their holidays the way they want to. To each his own.
07) Expecting that there will be ETs walking freely on Earth within your lifetime or expecting that it will happen after you're dead if at all?
I don't think that any being that has mastered intergalactic travel would come anywhere near this planet - now or after I'm dead.
08) Needing of quiet when you work or enjoying noise (radio, tv, conversation) when you work?
I need to have it as quiet as possible.
09) A karaoke singer or a karaoke critic?
Singer. I've always had this burning desire to do karaoke. I'm just too nervous. Anyone can be a critic, how much talent does that take?
10) One who thinks that you should honestly critique children's work (so they can improve) or one who thinks you should always praise children's work?
I'm really not good with children, but I'd go for the gentle side of honesty.
Hell's Eye for the Queer Guy
Now that I have a few manicures under my belt, I feel that it's my God-given right to criticize the poor fashion taste of those around me. Here's the second installment of Neko's Opinion On Fashion (remember the half-sweater thing? Hideous.)
Tonight's item of riducule is the "Croc". You know, those plastic, neon colored, sandals that everyone seems to be sporting nowadays? I first saw Crocs marketed as a shoe to wear while tending the lawn or digging up daisies. For that purpose, they seem wonderful. They're plastic, so mud and water are no problem. They seem comfy and easy to slip on; perfect for a quick stroll through the potting soil. They come in a vast array of colors, which are cheery and uplifting.
However, they have sprouted from that seed of goodness into an ugly, overgrown patch of crab grass! Everyone seems to have a pair now, and I bet they got them from that kiosk in the mall. I've seen them on men, women, teens and even children. Whenever a pair is within a hundred yard radius (I have poor eyesight) they send out shafts of light, targeting the most sensitive retna. Piercing pink, electric green, Sunny Delight orange. Aaarrg!! In most cases, they clash violently with fashion victim's apparel. Even worse, sometimes they match all too well with fashion victim's apparel. An entire pink velour jumpsuit (I'll get to those in good time) punctuated by a matching pair of Crocs - almost invariably worn with socks! I'll be so relieved when this trend is buried.
Now that it's springtime, I don't think my hopes of trodding on the plastic sandal trend stand a dandelion's chance. What happens when you sweat in those things? Sure, they have large, gaping holes precut all over them, but I hardly think that they serve much ventilation. Sticky, smelly, neon foot fetish, that's what.
Tonight's item of riducule is the "Croc". You know, those plastic, neon colored, sandals that everyone seems to be sporting nowadays? I first saw Crocs marketed as a shoe to wear while tending the lawn or digging up daisies. For that purpose, they seem wonderful. They're plastic, so mud and water are no problem. They seem comfy and easy to slip on; perfect for a quick stroll through the potting soil. They come in a vast array of colors, which are cheery and uplifting.
However, they have sprouted from that seed of goodness into an ugly, overgrown patch of crab grass! Everyone seems to have a pair now, and I bet they got them from that kiosk in the mall. I've seen them on men, women, teens and even children. Whenever a pair is within a hundred yard radius (I have poor eyesight) they send out shafts of light, targeting the most sensitive retna. Piercing pink, electric green, Sunny Delight orange. Aaarrg!! In most cases, they clash violently with fashion victim's apparel. Even worse, sometimes they match all too well with fashion victim's apparel. An entire pink velour jumpsuit (I'll get to those in good time) punctuated by a matching pair of Crocs - almost invariably worn with socks! I'll be so relieved when this trend is buried.
Now that it's springtime, I don't think my hopes of trodding on the plastic sandal trend stand a dandelion's chance. What happens when you sweat in those things? Sure, they have large, gaping holes precut all over them, but I hardly think that they serve much ventilation. Sticky, smelly, neon foot fetish, that's what.
5.07.2006
The Hell With It
I was supposed to have a date on Saturday night (no-good-for-me-guy). He didn't call, email or anything. But, it wasn't as if I was stuck out in the rain. I just didn't get the expected call. And I don't really blame the guy. It sounds like he's going through a bunch of shit right now. It's just as well. My basic reasons for wanting to see this person were A: he's smokin' hot and B: so I don't get attached to Seven.
So, today I was wondering, why am I chasing again? It's been a distraction. A welcome one, sure, but distracting nonetheless. I've got so many other things going on in my life right now, I don't so much need to fill my calendar with liasons. After realizing this, I developed a course of action. I'll stop looking around. I'll see Seven on occasion, and guy-from-the-bank guy. If Seven decides he wants to get serious, so be it. If we decide to take the relationship down a different path, or terminate it completely, so be it. I'll just hang with what I've got and focus on what I need to get done. That's healthy, doncha think? There are other relationships in my life that need to be nourished. I haven't hung out with mom in a while. Now that I don't work for HellNet, the friends I made there are starting to drift. Next weekend, we'll get together for our little scrapbook club and I can catch up.
Today was a complete veg-out day. I picked up a memory card for my GameCube, because the one I had wasn't large enough to save anything from my new game on. The memory card didn't cost me anything out of pocket, because I have credit at the game store. Then, I popped in Harvest Moon, and spent the majority of my day tending my farm. I'm debating whether I should go and play some more or go to bed. I have a splitting headache and my tummy is quezy. Brother is sick and I hope he didn't pass it on.
Regardless, I should post this before MSN bends me over again.
So, today I was wondering, why am I chasing again? It's been a distraction. A welcome one, sure, but distracting nonetheless. I've got so many other things going on in my life right now, I don't so much need to fill my calendar with liasons. After realizing this, I developed a course of action. I'll stop looking around. I'll see Seven on occasion, and guy-from-the-bank guy. If Seven decides he wants to get serious, so be it. If we decide to take the relationship down a different path, or terminate it completely, so be it. I'll just hang with what I've got and focus on what I need to get done. That's healthy, doncha think? There are other relationships in my life that need to be nourished. I haven't hung out with mom in a while. Now that I don't work for HellNet, the friends I made there are starting to drift. Next weekend, we'll get together for our little scrapbook club and I can catch up.
Today was a complete veg-out day. I picked up a memory card for my GameCube, because the one I had wasn't large enough to save anything from my new game on. The memory card didn't cost me anything out of pocket, because I have credit at the game store. Then, I popped in Harvest Moon, and spent the majority of my day tending my farm. I'm debating whether I should go and play some more or go to bed. I have a splitting headache and my tummy is quezy. Brother is sick and I hope he didn't pass it on.
Regardless, I should post this before MSN bends me over again.
5.04.2006
Why the Hell am I Still Here?
I spent the better part of yesterday thinking up things that could be wrong with me. Things that aren’t necessarily, but could be viewed that way. Then, I got home, got drunk and passed out at 8. It’s not so much that I have emotional problems, everyone does, right? It isn’t that I’m unable to think logically that’s the issue either. I think what it is that really bothers me is that I KNOW what the right thing to do is, the right way to act, the right way to feel. But, I can’t seem to make my feelings subscribe to those plans in my head. When the plan goes haywire, I end up berating myself and being embarassed by the fact that I’d failed yet again.
So, what’s the solution? Last night, I thought I’d hook up with some random no-good-for-me guy and let him fuck my brains out. You know, wash out the bad taste in my mouth with another bad taste. It’s a self-destructive path, I know. I didn’t do it though. I may still hook up with said no-good-for-me guy, just to have some fun. He’s yet another MySpace fella. At first, I thought, “Online dating is really stupid.” You always hear about the dangers of meeting an online aquaintance. But, what’s worse – hooking up with “random bar guy” or “we met on MySpace guy”? It seems that the risks and pitfalls are equally as bad. At least with “random MySpace guy” you get the chance to keep him at a distance while the two of you chat it up. There’s still time to say, “Oh…..you’re an idiot, aren’t you?” before you lock lips.
Of course, the answer that I’ve recently thought of as the best course of action is to stop dating all together. That usually works for me for a couple of weeks. Then, the “week of the horn-dog” comes around and I’m ready to grab anything with a functioning penis. Dildos and porn don’t do the trick. Those fuckers aren’t HEATED! You can’t kiss them, and you can’t go through their drawers while they’re in the bathroom either. Nope. That’s no good.
So, tonight I’m going out with Seven again. “Should I sleep with him again, now that I know he’s not interested in serious-ness-stuff?” Hell yes, I should! I mean, “off and on guy from the bank” has confessed to me that he’s phobic of commitment. He’s not the guy I’d want to settle down with anyway. And still, we get it on from time to time. In fact, things are so much easier for me knowing that there’s no connection. I mean, there IS, but it’s an extremely limited one.
I like being single. In fact, I LOVE it! All of my close friends are married (add kids to that) and each of them, at one time or another, have expressed their envy at my freedom and no-strings-attached lifestyle. I certainly don’t envy their parental situation. I do envy the whole “double-income” household situation!
I lost my temp job today. On the way out the door, the supervisor mentioned something to me about how I’m free to travel, not being married or tied down with children. She’d been telling me about her adventures in Germany as a college student. It’s true, you know. Why haven’t I been to Japan yet? Why aren’t I taking full advantage of my situation? Why am I sitting in my basement feeling sorry for myself and worrying that I won’t find Mr. Right? It’s not him I’m looking for after all. It’s Mr. Steady that I was hoping for. So, chin up Neko! It’s really not that bad.
So, what’s the solution? Last night, I thought I’d hook up with some random no-good-for-me guy and let him fuck my brains out. You know, wash out the bad taste in my mouth with another bad taste. It’s a self-destructive path, I know. I didn’t do it though. I may still hook up with said no-good-for-me guy, just to have some fun. He’s yet another MySpace fella. At first, I thought, “Online dating is really stupid.” You always hear about the dangers of meeting an online aquaintance. But, what’s worse – hooking up with “random bar guy” or “we met on MySpace guy”? It seems that the risks and pitfalls are equally as bad. At least with “random MySpace guy” you get the chance to keep him at a distance while the two of you chat it up. There’s still time to say, “Oh…..you’re an idiot, aren’t you?” before you lock lips.
Of course, the answer that I’ve recently thought of as the best course of action is to stop dating all together. That usually works for me for a couple of weeks. Then, the “week of the horn-dog” comes around and I’m ready to grab anything with a functioning penis. Dildos and porn don’t do the trick. Those fuckers aren’t HEATED! You can’t kiss them, and you can’t go through their drawers while they’re in the bathroom either. Nope. That’s no good.
So, tonight I’m going out with Seven again. “Should I sleep with him again, now that I know he’s not interested in serious-ness-stuff?” Hell yes, I should! I mean, “off and on guy from the bank” has confessed to me that he’s phobic of commitment. He’s not the guy I’d want to settle down with anyway. And still, we get it on from time to time. In fact, things are so much easier for me knowing that there’s no connection. I mean, there IS, but it’s an extremely limited one.
I like being single. In fact, I LOVE it! All of my close friends are married (add kids to that) and each of them, at one time or another, have expressed their envy at my freedom and no-strings-attached lifestyle. I certainly don’t envy their parental situation. I do envy the whole “double-income” household situation!
I lost my temp job today. On the way out the door, the supervisor mentioned something to me about how I’m free to travel, not being married or tied down with children. She’d been telling me about her adventures in Germany as a college student. It’s true, you know. Why haven’t I been to Japan yet? Why aren’t I taking full advantage of my situation? Why am I sitting in my basement feeling sorry for myself and worrying that I won’t find Mr. Right? It’s not him I’m looking for after all. It’s Mr. Steady that I was hoping for. So, chin up Neko! It’s really not that bad.
The Horrible Kaw of Hell (redeux)
Hey people!!! Where the Hell's my damnned Crow!!
Crow Art Contest
Prize: $50
Okay boys and girls, here’s the deal. I want to get a tattoo of a crow. Since I can’t stand my own artwork, and since I have so many talented friends, I’ve decided to host a friendly little competition.
Here are the basic Guidelines:
★ All entries must be original artwork
★ Drawing must be approx 4 to 5 inches high
★ Crow must be facing to the left. Its body can be the other way, but its beak must point left.
★ You can submit as many drawings as you want
★ All designs must be black and white
★ The basic style I’m looking for is comic book/animation style with heavy lines and not much fine detail. I don’t mean Looney Tunes though – I still want it to look fairly realistic
★ Keep in mind that tattoos tend to blur as they get older and I don’t want to end up with a blob.
★ I plan to have the final design done on my left shoulder blade
★ Feel free to ask as many questions or to submit drawings for input.
You can submit drawings any of 3 ways:
In person
via email at chibirisu@vegemail.com
use subject line "crow contest" in your email
via mail to
J. P.
PO Box 371391
Denver, CO 80237
USA
Crow Art Contest
Prize: $50
Okay boys and girls, here’s the deal. I want to get a tattoo of a crow. Since I can’t stand my own artwork, and since I have so many talented friends, I’ve decided to host a friendly little competition.
Here are the basic Guidelines:
★ All entries must be original artwork
★ Drawing must be approx 4 to 5 inches high
★ Crow must be facing to the left. Its body can be the other way, but its beak must point left.
★ You can submit as many drawings as you want
★ All designs must be black and white
★ The basic style I’m looking for is comic book/animation style with heavy lines and not much fine detail. I don’t mean Looney Tunes though – I still want it to look fairly realistic
★ Keep in mind that tattoos tend to blur as they get older and I don’t want to end up with a blob.
★ I plan to have the final design done on my left shoulder blade
★ Feel free to ask as many questions or to submit drawings for input.
You can submit drawings any of 3 ways:
In person
via email at chibirisu@vegemail.com
use subject line "crow contest" in your email
via mail to
J. P.
PO Box 371391
Denver, CO 80237
USA
Mood Swinging on the Playground in Hell
This was written last night. Due to technical difficulties, it was not posted until this afternoon.
I’ve made the mistake (and I was doing SO WELL) of getting all clingy and freaky in an email to Seven. Neko is a stupid-ass. Neko needs to up her meds. Neko is now sloshing her brain about in a glass of cognac in order to put a stop to it. I’d been thinking about him all day (trying not to) and really hoping for a positive email from him. The email I got was a little toward the luke-warm side. And so, my response back was of the knee jerk variety. “If you’re not interested, just SAY SO”. Fuckin’ A.
But, I got a surprising reaction. He actually called me ON THE PHONE, and offered me some bit of reassurance. “I’m like a frog, baby. I need to be hoppin’ to and fro on the lily pad of life.” To which I replied, “Pay no attention to the freak behind the curtain.” To which he replied, “It’s cool, baby. See, you’re stuck on the freaky lilly pad right now. You got to be hoppin’. You got to see that there’s a whole bunch of lilly pads.” To which I replied, “Ribbit” and it was all good. Whew. I feel less like burrying myself deep underground now.
One of the things that set me off on the whole instability vibe, was a questionnaire thingie (meme? Momo? Mime?) that I’d sent out as a bulletin on MySpace. Seven responded with his answers. One of the questions was something to the effect of, “Is there something about me that you would change and if so, what would it be?” Seven’s answer to that was, “Can I say?,,,,Hmm..no I can’t say.” So, loopy fucker that I am, the answer sent me reeling. More than anything else, it was the curiosity that got me.
So, I spent the hours at work occupying my mind with possible defects in myself and personality. I don’t even really want to know what his intended reply would have been. But, boring as my day was, I formulated a list of characteristics that someone might possibly find undesireable. Below is said list. Those that are followed by an * are things that I agree with. The items that I agree with AND would be willing to change are followed thusly, **. Strange? Yes. Obsessive? Absolutely! I’ll start from the top and work my way down.
Headspace:
Not educated enough **
Too smart
Intimidating
Ditzy
Opinionated*
Not able to back opinions up with solid facts and references**
Too distracted
Too eager to please
Disinterested
Talks too much*
Doesn’t talk enough
Don’t know what I’m talking about
Don’t know what she’s talking about
Doesn’t like the same kind of music
Musical taste too similar
Not into animal rights
Vegitarian*
Talks about movies too much
Talks about music too much
Crazy*
Clingy**
Needy**
Too distant
Too kinky
Not kinky enough
Wears contacts*
Doesn’t wear glasses*
Facial and other head-related physical features:
Ugly brown hair**
Bad haircut**
Too much grey hair**
Ugly brown eyes
Lazy eye*
Bushy eyebrows**
Thin lips
Chapped lips**
Crooked nose*
Fucked up teeth*
Too pretty
Too ugly
Bad breath**
Tongue too long
Tongue too short
Tongue not pierced*
Nose pierced*
Ears pierced*
Not enough piercings
Too many piercings
Ugly mole
Wicked evil eye*
Looks at me too much
Looks at herself too much
Looks at other people too much
Drinks too much*
Eats too much
Doesn’t drink enough
Doesn’t smoke enough
Smokes too much**
Wears too much makeup
Not enough makeup
Fucked up makeup
Upper body:
Puny arms**
Arms too graceful
Fucked up nails
Nails too long
Nails too short
Nails too red
Scabby elbows*
Arms flailing wildly
Picking nose
Picking ears
Picking ass
Picking underwear out of ass*
Not enough jewelry
Ears aren’t even
Gross thing hanging out of ear/nose/eye/mouth
Blane! (my new word for god, i.e. David Blane) That’s only half of me and it’s a long list. Of course, I’m being silly about the whole thing. Just wondering how many possibilities there are. It just goes to show that there are endless possibilities, so why stress? You’ll drive yourself mad! Don’t want to end up like me, now, do you?
Whew. So, I’m about to go see about filling up my calendar now, getting more toasted and working on my Passion Parties business. Ta.
I’ve made the mistake (and I was doing SO WELL) of getting all clingy and freaky in an email to Seven. Neko is a stupid-ass. Neko needs to up her meds. Neko is now sloshing her brain about in a glass of cognac in order to put a stop to it. I’d been thinking about him all day (trying not to) and really hoping for a positive email from him. The email I got was a little toward the luke-warm side. And so, my response back was of the knee jerk variety. “If you’re not interested, just SAY SO”. Fuckin’ A.
But, I got a surprising reaction. He actually called me ON THE PHONE, and offered me some bit of reassurance. “I’m like a frog, baby. I need to be hoppin’ to and fro on the lily pad of life.” To which I replied, “Pay no attention to the freak behind the curtain.” To which he replied, “It’s cool, baby. See, you’re stuck on the freaky lilly pad right now. You got to be hoppin’. You got to see that there’s a whole bunch of lilly pads.” To which I replied, “Ribbit” and it was all good. Whew. I feel less like burrying myself deep underground now.
One of the things that set me off on the whole instability vibe, was a questionnaire thingie (meme? Momo? Mime?) that I’d sent out as a bulletin on MySpace. Seven responded with his answers. One of the questions was something to the effect of, “Is there something about me that you would change and if so, what would it be?” Seven’s answer to that was, “Can I say?,,,,Hmm..no I can’t say.” So, loopy fucker that I am, the answer sent me reeling. More than anything else, it was the curiosity that got me.
So, I spent the hours at work occupying my mind with possible defects in myself and personality. I don’t even really want to know what his intended reply would have been. But, boring as my day was, I formulated a list of characteristics that someone might possibly find undesireable. Below is said list. Those that are followed by an * are things that I agree with. The items that I agree with AND would be willing to change are followed thusly, **. Strange? Yes. Obsessive? Absolutely! I’ll start from the top and work my way down.
Headspace:
Not educated enough **
Too smart
Intimidating
Ditzy
Opinionated*
Not able to back opinions up with solid facts and references**
Too distracted
Too eager to please
Disinterested
Talks too much*
Doesn’t talk enough
Don’t know what I’m talking about
Don’t know what she’s talking about
Doesn’t like the same kind of music
Musical taste too similar
Not into animal rights
Vegitarian*
Talks about movies too much
Talks about music too much
Crazy*
Clingy**
Needy**
Too distant
Too kinky
Not kinky enough
Wears contacts*
Doesn’t wear glasses*
Facial and other head-related physical features:
Ugly brown hair**
Bad haircut**
Too much grey hair**
Ugly brown eyes
Lazy eye*
Bushy eyebrows**
Thin lips
Chapped lips**
Crooked nose*
Fucked up teeth*
Too pretty
Too ugly
Bad breath**
Tongue too long
Tongue too short
Tongue not pierced*
Nose pierced*
Ears pierced*
Not enough piercings
Too many piercings
Ugly mole
Wicked evil eye*
Looks at me too much
Looks at herself too much
Looks at other people too much
Drinks too much*
Eats too much
Doesn’t drink enough
Doesn’t smoke enough
Smokes too much**
Wears too much makeup
Not enough makeup
Fucked up makeup
Upper body:
Puny arms**
Arms too graceful
Fucked up nails
Nails too long
Nails too short
Nails too red
Scabby elbows*
Arms flailing wildly
Picking nose
Picking ears
Picking ass
Picking underwear out of ass*
Not enough jewelry
Ears aren’t even
Gross thing hanging out of ear/nose/eye/mouth
Blane! (my new word for god, i.e. David Blane) That’s only half of me and it’s a long list. Of course, I’m being silly about the whole thing. Just wondering how many possibilities there are. It just goes to show that there are endless possibilities, so why stress? You’ll drive yourself mad! Don’t want to end up like me, now, do you?
Whew. So, I’m about to go see about filling up my calendar now, getting more toasted and working on my Passion Parties business. Ta.
5.01.2006
Smoldering Embers in Hell
The following is yet another attempt at recreating a post that was rendered subject to my fragmented memory by MSN. Those bastards. From now on, I type these suckers up BEFORE I go online. (Should have learned that lesson a while ago)
I need to have another Milwaukee’s Best (not light this time, Dad?) and calm the fuck down. Maybe another cigarette, and another, and maybe still another. I really need to quit. I should probably call Bonz and explain things too. But, I haven’t heard from him in so long…
I spent this past weekend in the fragile bliss of a new companionship. I went out on a limb and met another person from MySpace. This time, as with the last, I went into it with no intention to ignite a flame. This time, unlike the last, sparks flew. Easy conversation. Good company. Sex that left me stupified for a half hour afterwards. So, yeah, I had a good weekend. It’s May 1st already?!
But something’s different. This time I’ve managed to stave off the usual insecurity, emotional clutching, idiotic imaginings of the future, flatline depression and general panic that overcome me when I experience the thrill of a new lover. I’m finally able to enjoy the moment and let whatever will be, just be. Maybe I’ve become more mature? More likely, it’s due to the fact that (we’ll call him “Seven”) Seven is very open with the information that he’s actively involved with numerous other women. I can respect and appreciate that honesty. In fact, it’s what I want, what I’ve been looking for. It’s the deception that kills me, leaves me with suicidal self-loathing.
It also helps that I’ve immersed myself in the new Passion Parties business. Now that I’ve got that on my mind constantly, the temptation to scribble down my number for any attractive guy that struts across my path is gone. However, I’m not having the success I’d hoped for. Patience, Neko, patience. My friends and family have been supportive of my new endeavor, but their time and resources are limited. I can only rely on them so much. This week, I’m mailing out my catologes and contact info to local sex therapists. I need to look up the local bridal shops and peddle my wares there as well. I’ve got phone calls to make. Damn. I’d better get going!!
I need to have another Milwaukee’s Best (not light this time, Dad?) and calm the fuck down. Maybe another cigarette, and another, and maybe still another. I really need to quit. I should probably call Bonz and explain things too. But, I haven’t heard from him in so long…
I spent this past weekend in the fragile bliss of a new companionship. I went out on a limb and met another person from MySpace. This time, as with the last, I went into it with no intention to ignite a flame. This time, unlike the last, sparks flew. Easy conversation. Good company. Sex that left me stupified for a half hour afterwards. So, yeah, I had a good weekend. It’s May 1st already?!
But something’s different. This time I’ve managed to stave off the usual insecurity, emotional clutching, idiotic imaginings of the future, flatline depression and general panic that overcome me when I experience the thrill of a new lover. I’m finally able to enjoy the moment and let whatever will be, just be. Maybe I’ve become more mature? More likely, it’s due to the fact that (we’ll call him “Seven”) Seven is very open with the information that he’s actively involved with numerous other women. I can respect and appreciate that honesty. In fact, it’s what I want, what I’ve been looking for. It’s the deception that kills me, leaves me with suicidal self-loathing.
It also helps that I’ve immersed myself in the new Passion Parties business. Now that I’ve got that on my mind constantly, the temptation to scribble down my number for any attractive guy that struts across my path is gone. However, I’m not having the success I’d hoped for. Patience, Neko, patience. My friends and family have been supportive of my new endeavor, but their time and resources are limited. I can only rely on them so much. This week, I’m mailing out my catologes and contact info to local sex therapists. I need to look up the local bridal shops and peddle my wares there as well. I’ve got phone calls to make. Damn. I’d better get going!!
4.20.2006
4.13.2006
Breeders Can Go To Hell (scroll down five)
Thirdly, but not lastly, is the most viable, in my opinion, of solutions. It combines some of the first method, only in that it involves government regulation. Citizens of every country should be issued a license in order to bear little ones. In order to qualify, a couple or individual, would have to meet certain qualifications to get their parenting license. To avoid public outrage, it would be as fairly negotiated as possible. You would have to meet employment criteria. Income bracket specifications would incite objections that only the rich might flourish. Using employment as a gage, the prospective matriarch and patriarch must bring in the average minimum, alone or seperately, that it takes to provide for their young. Done with welfare! Have you noticed that the couples with the lowest income tend to have the most kids? Doesn't seem in balance to me. There would be a background check involved as well. No man or woman who has been convicted of child abuse or molestation would be allowed to bear young.
There are more, drastically radical ideas floating around in my booze-addled mind that are probably best not shared with the public at large. They aren't viable anyway and would involve my incarceration for a very long, long time. Not desireable, compared to the alternatives.
And it is with that series of posts that I leave you. I leave you to ponder the issues of overpopulation and five-o-clock traffic.
There are more, drastically radical ideas floating around in my booze-addled mind that are probably best not shared with the public at large. They aren't viable anyway and would involve my incarceration for a very long, long time. Not desireable, compared to the alternatives.
And it is with that series of posts that I leave you. I leave you to ponder the issues of overpopulation and five-o-clock traffic.
Breeders Can Go To Hell (scroll down four)
Next, has long been a fantasy of mine, inspired partly by Christopher Walken and The Dead Zone movie. If I had one wish with which I could emboss myself with super powers, you wouldn't find me climbing walls or spinning the Earth wrong-way-round(the original post had something about shitting gold bricks). My super-human attribute would be the ability to grace any individual with infertility upon shaking my hand. I would be indescriminate in execution. No man, woman, local, foreigner, or race would be spared the embrace of my cursed hand. The only people I think I would avoid would be pregnant women, who should be avoided at all costs anyway.
Breeders Can Go To Hell (scroll down three)
This is not the only time such topic has flashed itself from neuron to neuron in my brain. No, I've pondered solutions from the recent past to the completely absurd. Firstly, there's the idea that citizens should only be allowed a certain number of offspring. It's been done. Think communist China. With this practice, there arises many problems. You've got a nation outraged that a government should try to control their populus this way. You've got parents either killing off or selling off their female children in order to save the two-children slots for the males, who will continue the family name. You've got an imbalance of the male to female ratio. Not going to work. Nix that idea.
Breeders Can Go To Hell (scroll down two)
The problem is, there are too many people! "This is suburban Colorado", I thought to myself, "I can only imagine what it's like in L.A." If only mankind would stop churning out offspring, then maybe the world would have a chance! Why, only yesterday, I was making my way toward the red and white gateway of a Target Superstore to buy some cottage cheese. I spotted a woman pushing a loaded shopping cart. What was it filled with? No, not affordable solutions for modern-day living - it was filled with children! "Good God," I thought, a thinly veiled look of disgust cast in her direction, "There are 5 of them!" They were clearly all product of her particular loins. There's got to be a limit, somehow, someway.
Breeders Can Go to Hell (scroll down one)
Here's the best attempt I can muster at reconstructing my previously hindered post. It went something like this....
"I'm having a cigarette, a bloodly mary, and a bag of chips and I damn well deserve all three. After making it through the work day without smoking, I was rewarded with an hour and a half drive home. The traffic was insane. I tried to escape, but each time I was confronted with a stalled car, bumper to bumper highway and a clutch that hasn't worked properly for quite some time. It's toasty outside today. My truck has no A/C. I almost paniced due to claustrophobia. And as I sat there, marinating in my own sweat, my mind started to boil like an egg.
I began to realize the problem..."
"I'm having a cigarette, a bloodly mary, and a bag of chips and I damn well deserve all three. After making it through the work day without smoking, I was rewarded with an hour and a half drive home. The traffic was insane. I tried to escape, but each time I was confronted with a stalled car, bumper to bumper highway and a clutch that hasn't worked properly for quite some time. It's toasty outside today. My truck has no A/C. I almost paniced due to claustrophobia. And as I sat there, marinating in my own sweat, my mind started to boil like an egg.
I began to realize the problem..."
MSN Can Go To Hell
My mouth, rendered sensitive by the "bold n spicy" bloody mary on the desk to my left, is barely able to cope with the katsup saturated, fresh out the oven, tater tots I'm trying to injest. My eyes, rendered blurry by the amount of alcohol in my bloodstream, are barely able to decifer the letters my fingers bring to life. My brain, overheated by my fustration, is barely able to cope with the fact that the eloquent post I was so proud of has disappeared. That's what you get when you combine a dial-up connection with a desperately un-de-fragged hard drive.
So, I shall attempt, to the best of my ability, to reconstruct my thoughts that were so arrogantly deleted by the god of users. I'll post, this time, in short bursts, as an attempt to foil the combination of hurdles in my way. (scroll up)
So, I shall attempt, to the best of my ability, to reconstruct my thoughts that were so arrogantly deleted by the god of users. I'll post, this time, in short bursts, as an attempt to foil the combination of hurdles in my way. (scroll up)
4.06.2006
I Am Hell's Bleeding Ears
I almost forgot the reason I fought so hard to get online this morning (afternoon). I've been working on a mix cd for my cousin this week, between all my other projects. Told you I had several going at once. I've finally ended up with a satisfactory arrangement and I burned 2 copies of it. The title is "Sugarplumbs and Suicide" and the track listing is as follows:
1. Fall Out Boy - "My heart is the worst kind of weapon" (acoustic)
2. Motion City Soundtrack - "Resolution"
3. My Chemical Romance - "Headfirst for Halos"
4. The Flaming Lips - "One more robot/sympathy 3000-21"
5. Ween - "Freedom of '76"
6. 3 - "Bramfatura"
7. Beck - "Scarecrow"
8. Weezer - "This is such a pity"
9. 3 - "Dogs of War"
10. The Flaming Lips - "Yoshimi battles the pink robots part 1"
11. My Chemical Romance - "Romance"
12. 3 - "Dregs"
13. Nine Inch Nails - "Every day is exactly the same"
14. Beck - "Missing"
15. The White Stripes - "Take, take, take"
16. Fink - "We are ninja"
It took me 3 days to get all the tracks in just the right order. Couldn't tell you if my cousin will like it or not. I haven't seen him for a year and a half and only spoke with him briefly since then. But, we somehow miraculously seem to be on the same level, so I'm trusting luck that he'll approve of my choices. It's just like me too, to turn this into some overblown art project. Instead of a simple track listing and black magic marker label, I'm birthing an entire booklet of pictures and blurbs about the songs. I made up a clever cover on the computer. I have copies of each album cover, which I'll embellish with lace and glitter, etc. On the back of each album page, I've written up a list of all the songs I used from that album, plus a little comment about each. It should amuse him.
Who gets copy #2, you ask? Shenry does, although he'll get the more basic version. He's the grand master of mix cds and in return for his advice, I'm sharing my creative energies with him.
What's next, you ask? The next mix cd, solely for my own amusement, will be "Songs for My Funeral" or some similar title. Shenry will get a copy of that one too, since I plan to elicit his assistance again.
1. Fall Out Boy - "My heart is the worst kind of weapon" (acoustic)
2. Motion City Soundtrack - "Resolution"
3. My Chemical Romance - "Headfirst for Halos"
4. The Flaming Lips - "One more robot/sympathy 3000-21"
5. Ween - "Freedom of '76"
6. 3 - "Bramfatura"
7. Beck - "Scarecrow"
8. Weezer - "This is such a pity"
9. 3 - "Dogs of War"
10. The Flaming Lips - "Yoshimi battles the pink robots part 1"
11. My Chemical Romance - "Romance"
12. 3 - "Dregs"
13. Nine Inch Nails - "Every day is exactly the same"
14. Beck - "Missing"
15. The White Stripes - "Take, take, take"
16. Fink - "We are ninja"
It took me 3 days to get all the tracks in just the right order. Couldn't tell you if my cousin will like it or not. I haven't seen him for a year and a half and only spoke with him briefly since then. But, we somehow miraculously seem to be on the same level, so I'm trusting luck that he'll approve of my choices. It's just like me too, to turn this into some overblown art project. Instead of a simple track listing and black magic marker label, I'm birthing an entire booklet of pictures and blurbs about the songs. I made up a clever cover on the computer. I have copies of each album cover, which I'll embellish with lace and glitter, etc. On the back of each album page, I've written up a list of all the songs I used from that album, plus a little comment about each. It should amuse him.
Who gets copy #2, you ask? Shenry does, although he'll get the more basic version. He's the grand master of mix cds and in return for his advice, I'm sharing my creative energies with him.
What's next, you ask? The next mix cd, solely for my own amusement, will be "Songs for My Funeral" or some similar title. Shenry will get a copy of that one too, since I plan to elicit his assistance again.
Hell in a Plastic Cup
It's half past 2 in the afternoon and I'm sitting here in my robe, sipping Chinese tea. I woke up about a half hour ago, toasted up some tater-tots and fought with the computer again. Our struggle ended badly last night, but I won this morning! I don't know how I'll manage to start working at 8 in the morning again. Two o'clock feels like hell. I guess it doesn't matter what time I arise, I still feel like crap. That might explain why I don't usually want to get out of bed. That might explain why I lose my job for not showing up.
But, I have a new job now! I had an interview yesterday afternoon and I aced it. They want me to take a drug test tomorrow before they can combine it with the results of my background check and decide if I'm still desireable as an employee. WEll, I'm not a felon or a junkie, so there shouldn't be issues. It pays to not get caught. I'll be working next week and onward for about 6 months in the legal department of an insurance company. Same old "file this" and "copy that" bullshit though. I haven't landed that art career or bass player gig yet, so this is what I get. I do plan to become a rep for Passion Parties, if I can swing the financial end. That'll give me a night job that could turn into a full time thing. Then, I can go from there.
More good news for Neko this week. On monday, I learned the results of my ex-husband's trial. The fucker gets 12 years. Did I post that already? Well, it bears repeating. That rotten, lowly bastard gets to be passed around for cigarettes for the next twelve years of his life as payment for what he did to me. Good! That'll give me time to skip town before he tries it again. Because, I don't believe he'll ever stop trying to kill me. Ever. I'm happy to have the whole court process over with. I'm happy that it wasn't continued AGAIN. It was almost 2 years ago that these crimes were committed and only now have we reached resolution. Jezus. Now, at least, I can move on and make more solid plans for myself.
With that hurdle reached, and my new job, I'll be ready to move soon. That will be great for my sence of pride and lack of personal space. Unless my future roommate's got a computer, I'll still have to visit this place for my net fix.
But, I have a new job now! I had an interview yesterday afternoon and I aced it. They want me to take a drug test tomorrow before they can combine it with the results of my background check and decide if I'm still desireable as an employee. WEll, I'm not a felon or a junkie, so there shouldn't be issues. It pays to not get caught. I'll be working next week and onward for about 6 months in the legal department of an insurance company. Same old "file this" and "copy that" bullshit though. I haven't landed that art career or bass player gig yet, so this is what I get. I do plan to become a rep for Passion Parties, if I can swing the financial end. That'll give me a night job that could turn into a full time thing. Then, I can go from there.
More good news for Neko this week. On monday, I learned the results of my ex-husband's trial. The fucker gets 12 years. Did I post that already? Well, it bears repeating. That rotten, lowly bastard gets to be passed around for cigarettes for the next twelve years of his life as payment for what he did to me. Good! That'll give me time to skip town before he tries it again. Because, I don't believe he'll ever stop trying to kill me. Ever. I'm happy to have the whole court process over with. I'm happy that it wasn't continued AGAIN. It was almost 2 years ago that these crimes were committed and only now have we reached resolution. Jezus. Now, at least, I can move on and make more solid plans for myself.
With that hurdle reached, and my new job, I'll be ready to move soon. That will be great for my sence of pride and lack of personal space. Unless my future roommate's got a computer, I'll still have to visit this place for my net fix.
I'll Send You To Hell
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4.04.2006
Brush Stroking Myself to Hell
I've been working on that painting. My computer, however, has been refusing to recognize the digicam plugged into its USB port for some time. So, it's not until now that I'm able to share the continuing progress with my beloved audience. The orange hoodie is still on hold, I'm afraid. I still haven't come up with a solution. I may iron it, wash it and see if that does the trick.
Without further ado, or to do, or doo doo, here are the recent pics of the painting.
I've started to add a few colors and fill in the body.
This is basically the same pic, but with a few more colors.
Here's where I started yesterday. I managed to squeeze in my crows. This has inspired me to do a whole crow series. Yesterday, I picked up my next canvas and a new paintbrush.
So, this final pic is how the painting stands now.
Without further ado, or to do, or doo doo, here are the recent pics of the painting.
I've started to add a few colors and fill in the body.
This is basically the same pic, but with a few more colors.
Here's where I started yesterday. I managed to squeeze in my crows. This has inspired me to do a whole crow series. Yesterday, I picked up my next canvas and a new paintbrush.
So, this final pic is how the painting stands now.
Saved By the Hell
There's a device I've heard of. It's something they install in vehicles whos owners have been busted for DUI. I've never seen one, but the concept as I understand it is that one must blow into the device before they're able to start their car and the device determines whether or not said owner is sober enough to be behind the wheel. Well, I need one of those installed on my computer. I wouldn't be able to go online without passing the breathalizer test.
I got home from book club last night. I shouldn't have driven anywhere. Whatever it was that posessed me to come home and continue drinking, after the bottle of wine I was encouraged to finish off, I will never know. So, I got behind a mouse and started driving again. I vaguely remember posting to little tragedies and I woke up this morning, horrified! I ran to the computer, fought with it until I was able to log on, and was relieved to find that the drunken spew was all gone. In my stupor, had I forgotten to hit "publish post"? Is there some blog god that determined I should be spared the embarassment of sharing those thoughts with the world wide web? Whatever it was, I don't see that post anymore and I'm grateful. I remember the topic of the mysterious post. It's not something I should be sharing with anyone. It's one of those thoughts that should only be shared with battery-operated devices in the privacy of ones own home.
I got home from book club last night. I shouldn't have driven anywhere. Whatever it was that posessed me to come home and continue drinking, after the bottle of wine I was encouraged to finish off, I will never know. So, I got behind a mouse and started driving again. I vaguely remember posting to little tragedies and I woke up this morning, horrified! I ran to the computer, fought with it until I was able to log on, and was relieved to find that the drunken spew was all gone. In my stupor, had I forgotten to hit "publish post"? Is there some blog god that determined I should be spared the embarassment of sharing those thoughts with the world wide web? Whatever it was, I don't see that post anymore and I'm grateful. I remember the topic of the mysterious post. It's not something I should be sharing with anyone. It's one of those thoughts that should only be shared with battery-operated devices in the privacy of ones own home.
3.31.2006
Insomnia is Hell
Geez. Look at the time. Since I've been unemployed, my biology is all screwed up. I finally got back on my meds this afternoon, thank god. I also happen to be sober. Those are two very obvious reasons why I can't get to sleep. I thought it'd be fun to post to my mobile blog (Neko A-Go-Go) and see the time progression as I toss and turn. But, as of 12:00 this a.m., Sprint shut off my phone service. I'll be able to go and pay the bill tomorrow morning, or this morning, however you see it. So, it's not something I can't handle. I've got to go and hit up Walmart for some razors and some hand soap anyway. I wonder if I'll sleep between now and then. From here on out it'll be fun stuff like shampoo and kitty litter that I'll get to spend my money on. No new clothes or CDs for Neko.
I keep saying it over and over, but I've got to quit smoking. The money I could save ~ not to mention my own life. I'm on "the patch". Not the nicotine patch, but the birth control patch. If you've payed only passing attention to the news, you might have noticed that the combination of that little sucker and smoking tends to cause blood clots and send little girls like me to the hospital, or even better, the morgue. Every time my heart beats irregularly, I think, "This is it Neko. Time's up."
Whenever I lay down, my rabbitty little think box fills itself up with the intricasies (fuck off Webster) of the next nifty project I could be working on. The next nifty project I am working on already in my head. There are around four of them. Or, I mentally go through my routine for tomorrow. What will I wear? What time should I leave the house? How will the evening progress? Will Walmart be crowded and what's the best time of day to avoid the Friday crowd? If I get all punk for my bf, will I feel uncomfortable going to cash my check? Do I care? Ack!
But, after painting all day, I'm kind of created out. I don't feel that I could keep interest in a movie and I don't really want to play video games either. I could beat my head against a wall, but that might wake up the other dwellers. I got up, ate some rice, had a glass of apple soda, lit up a smoke (you're going to die, Neko) and here I am trying to relieve the pressure in my brain.
I keep saying it over and over, but I've got to quit smoking. The money I could save ~ not to mention my own life. I'm on "the patch". Not the nicotine patch, but the birth control patch. If you've payed only passing attention to the news, you might have noticed that the combination of that little sucker and smoking tends to cause blood clots and send little girls like me to the hospital, or even better, the morgue. Every time my heart beats irregularly, I think, "This is it Neko. Time's up."
Whenever I lay down, my rabbitty little think box fills itself up with the intricasies (fuck off Webster) of the next nifty project I could be working on. The next nifty project I am working on already in my head. There are around four of them. Or, I mentally go through my routine for tomorrow. What will I wear? What time should I leave the house? How will the evening progress? Will Walmart be crowded and what's the best time of day to avoid the Friday crowd? If I get all punk for my bf, will I feel uncomfortable going to cash my check? Do I care? Ack!
But, after painting all day, I'm kind of created out. I don't feel that I could keep interest in a movie and I don't really want to play video games either. I could beat my head against a wall, but that might wake up the other dwellers. I got up, ate some rice, had a glass of apple soda, lit up a smoke (you're going to die, Neko) and here I am trying to relieve the pressure in my brain.
3.30.2006
Another Day in Hell
I worked on the hoodie some more last night. First, I sketched out some bat silouettes and transferred them onto a cardboard slab. Next, I took my trusty Exacto blade and carved out a template:
Then, I mixed up some fabric paint and began transferring the battiness to fabric...
But, the paint has bled through to the soft inner side of the hoodie, compromising the blankety blissfull softness. So, I've hung up the hoodie to dry while I ponder a solution. I can't have the hoodie not be all cuddly soft anymore, 'cause then I'll never wear it and the whole project will be void. Hmmm...
While that little endeavor is on the hanger, I started work on a painting. The style is totally ripped from Junko Mizuno, but I've tried to add some personal flare to it. Here's my prelim:
I meant to have a flock of crows in the background, but by the time I was finished etching out the foreground, there wasn't much room left for my beloved birdies. I'll find a way to get them in there anyway:
I started painting before I even thought to take some pictures. But, I thought I could add to my project by documenting it like I am with the hoodie. Here's the pic with the background filled in a little more:
So, now I'm letting the painting dry for a bit and I really should be eating something. It's already 3:30?! Good god, I've eaten nothing all day and I'm out of smokes again and I'm teetering on the edge of a breakdown. This will be fun to look back on later when I'm sober and stable and medicated and happy again. Whee! It's kind of fun playing with my sanity and this beer is starting to get to me....
Then, I mixed up some fabric paint and began transferring the battiness to fabric...
But, the paint has bled through to the soft inner side of the hoodie, compromising the blankety blissfull softness. So, I've hung up the hoodie to dry while I ponder a solution. I can't have the hoodie not be all cuddly soft anymore, 'cause then I'll never wear it and the whole project will be void. Hmmm...
While that little endeavor is on the hanger, I started work on a painting. The style is totally ripped from Junko Mizuno, but I've tried to add some personal flare to it. Here's my prelim:
I meant to have a flock of crows in the background, but by the time I was finished etching out the foreground, there wasn't much room left for my beloved birdies. I'll find a way to get them in there anyway:
I started painting before I even thought to take some pictures. But, I thought I could add to my project by documenting it like I am with the hoodie. Here's the pic with the background filled in a little more:
So, now I'm letting the painting dry for a bit and I really should be eating something. It's already 3:30?! Good god, I've eaten nothing all day and I'm out of smokes again and I'm teetering on the edge of a breakdown. This will be fun to look back on later when I'm sober and stable and medicated and happy again. Whee! It's kind of fun playing with my sanity and this beer is starting to get to me....
3.29.2006
What the Hell are You Doing Up So Late
Neko is up late because she doesn't have a job.
But, she's also smoking cigarette butts out of the ashtray because she doesn't have a job. Gross, I know.
Neko's added a bunch more links to her blog, because she's getting artsy-fartsy on your ass.
Well, she was anyway, but she just now chose to reveal that aspect of herself.
Whee! Another beer down the hatch!
But, she's also smoking cigarette butts out of the ashtray because she doesn't have a job. Gross, I know.
Neko's added a bunch more links to her blog, because she's getting artsy-fartsy on your ass.
Well, she was anyway, but she just now chose to reveal that aspect of herself.
Whee! Another beer down the hatch!
"Hell Has Overcome" ~ Whoever
I just spent the last 20 minutes trying to add a quote randomizer that I ripped from the Silver Queen (who incidentally ripped from somewhere else). All it seems to have done is fux up my description bar thingie up there. ("Thingie? This is technical jargon, isn't it?) All that work thinking up random quotes to wow you all with. Dang it! AND THIS BLOG IS STILL FUCKING BRONCO COLORS!!!!!!
Hell Wear a Bright Orange Hoodie
Well, my bf called. I feel a bit better now. We set a date for Friday night and that should keep me going until then. I should harness my depressive energy and flow it into my art projects. I always work better when I'm about to destroy something. Also, I have a job interview next week and that helps me not feel so useless. Until then, I'm always available to model nude for cash. Seriously. I'd even let someone film me making out with another girl. Seriously. I had this dream this morning...oh my god. Yes, it involved me an several other girls. Mmm hm! I said I was off the man hunt.
So, here's a pic of the hoodie as it exists now. My brother said I should paint, "Property of Colorado State Prison" on it, but nevermind him. He's an idiot.
I ripped the elastic off the bottom, but the pockets fell out, so I had to stitch them up (in black of course).
Then, I decided to stitch up the rest of it...
And with the elastic band that I removed, I made ears. I've always wanted a hoodie with ears.
Now I'm off to paint bats over the whole thing. That is, if I can bring myself to take it off long enough. Have you ever seen an anime called Serial Experiment Lain? You know the little bear outfit she wears when she's moody? Well, it's like that here.
So, here's a pic of the hoodie as it exists now. My brother said I should paint, "Property of Colorado State Prison" on it, but nevermind him. He's an idiot.
I ripped the elastic off the bottom, but the pockets fell out, so I had to stitch them up (in black of course).
Then, I decided to stitch up the rest of it...
And with the elastic band that I removed, I made ears. I've always wanted a hoodie with ears.
Now I'm off to paint bats over the whole thing. That is, if I can bring myself to take it off long enough. Have you ever seen an anime called Serial Experiment Lain? You know the little bear outfit she wears when she's moody? Well, it's like that here.
Small White Doses of Hell
Is it day 2 or day 3 without my Celexa? I'm not sure, but I can feel myself starting to slip. I wonder if I can last until Friday without doing something horrible. Maybe this Godiva hot chocolate will help, or these stale biscuits, each laden with a square of pure Godiva chocolate. A cigarette? Just don't go back to bed. That would be bad. Take a shower, change your clothes. Maybe a distraction, like video games would do the trick. A call from one of my friends would certainly help. But, I can't call anyone myself, lest I feel like a burden.
My email accout is with "Care 2". If you've ever been to the website, it's smothered in crys of "help these poor creatures" and "sign this petition or something will die". How can I tell I'm slipping? Because each little creature feature with it's large, pleading brown eyes makes me want to cry or do something drastic. I haven't done much but lay in bed, and I haven't spoken to anyone in 24 hours. Eesh. I should probably stay away from that bottle of wine in the kitchen. That's what got me into trouble yesterday.
I could call my therapist if things got really bad. But, I know what she would tell me. She'd say to get some meds. But, I can't do that, at least until I get that meager check on Friday. I texted my bf, thinking I could get a little pick me up in the way of reassurance or some attention. He hasn't texted me back or called in 2 days. I'm thinking he needs a break. A break I can understand. I know I'm just over reacting because I'm unbalanced. Talking to anyone like that right now might just bring the whole house of cards right down on my head. I sent a text to Shenry. He didn't text back, but I can understand that too. He was in the air sometime on tuesday, returning from a difficult family loss. So, it's okay that he didn't respond. He's got bigger problems than me right now.
So, for now, Little Tragedies is my only companion. So be it. It's one form of therapy I can use without depending on anyone else. Well, I do have to depend on the slowest of internet connections to open the door. I'm going to go and shower and do some laundry. That should get me up a little. Then, I should finish that hoodie I've been working on. I could even upload some pics of it here. That should be fun. I know, I'll make a list and just keep plugging away until I've forgotten all about jumping off bridges and cutting little holes in myself. Whee!
My email accout is with "Care 2". If you've ever been to the website, it's smothered in crys of "help these poor creatures" and "sign this petition or something will die". How can I tell I'm slipping? Because each little creature feature with it's large, pleading brown eyes makes me want to cry or do something drastic. I haven't done much but lay in bed, and I haven't spoken to anyone in 24 hours. Eesh. I should probably stay away from that bottle of wine in the kitchen. That's what got me into trouble yesterday.
I could call my therapist if things got really bad. But, I know what she would tell me. She'd say to get some meds. But, I can't do that, at least until I get that meager check on Friday. I texted my bf, thinking I could get a little pick me up in the way of reassurance or some attention. He hasn't texted me back or called in 2 days. I'm thinking he needs a break. A break I can understand. I know I'm just over reacting because I'm unbalanced. Talking to anyone like that right now might just bring the whole house of cards right down on my head. I sent a text to Shenry. He didn't text back, but I can understand that too. He was in the air sometime on tuesday, returning from a difficult family loss. So, it's okay that he didn't respond. He's got bigger problems than me right now.
So, for now, Little Tragedies is my only companion. So be it. It's one form of therapy I can use without depending on anyone else. Well, I do have to depend on the slowest of internet connections to open the door. I'm going to go and shower and do some laundry. That should get me up a little. Then, I should finish that hoodie I've been working on. I could even upload some pics of it here. That should be fun. I know, I'll make a list and just keep plugging away until I've forgotten all about jumping off bridges and cutting little holes in myself. Whee!
3.28.2006
Stupid Thing Can Go To Hell
Well, my pirate name is "Bloody Jenny Flint".....paste the code on your blog they said...everything will be fine they said...you can get dressed now they said...sheesh.
Get The Hell Off My Ship!
My pirate name is:
Bloody Jenny Flint
Every pirate lives for something different. For some, it's the open sea. For others (the masochists), it's the food. For you, it's definitely the fighting. Like the rock flint, you're hard and sharp. But, also like flint, you're easily chipped, and sparky. Arr!
Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.
3.22.2006
Beating the Pavement in Hell
So, now I find myself unemployed. Basically, I lost my job because I skipped out a few times too many. Which, if you ask me, is like suspending a kid for not going to school. "Well, you haven't been coming in to the office lately, so we'll fix it so you can't come in at all." Plus, I had ETO (Earned Time Off), so I don't see how they can fire me, but I'm sure they've got all sorts of legal loopholes in their policy. Well, f* them. Now, they'll have to split my duties among the three of them in addition to their own jobs until they find a suitable replacement for me. Have fun, ladies! I liked the job. I kind of miss it. But, se-la-vi.
The car and the new digs I'd been planning for will have to wait.
What does Neko do when she finds herself with no income? Well, she trots her happy ass down to the temp agency is what she does. I've got a quickie job that'll last me tomorrow and Friday. Then, my application was sent off to another client and I may have a 6 month gig starting in April. The pay on that one is pretty sweet, so I hope it comes through. Insurance? Yeah. That's the tough part. How do I keep my meds coming in? How do I pay for therapy? I guess I'll do what I have to to get by until I've got a steady cash flow again.
Now that Neko has so much free time, what's she been up to? Neko's been gettin' busy with her new b/f is what. If you've had problems finding a steady sexual benefactor, go out and find yourself a young virgin boy to deflower. I couldn't recommend it more highly! Talk about energy, talk about enthusiasm, talk about being appreciated, talk about yummy!!! Of course he's fun to be around and he has more merits than just the goodies. He's an artist! More accurately, and "art student", which is my type completely. We haven't been doing much aside from gettin' busy and watching movies. That'll change when we both get paid. How young is he? Hmm. Well, there's a 10 year difference in age between us. I know, I'm a dirty old woman, but I got over that a while ago. He's not even old enough to hit the bars with me yet. Jesus Christ, he's only 3 years older than my little brother! But, if anything proves that I've "still got it", it's him.
Shouldn't Neko be cleaning house? Shouldn't she be working on her small business plans? Shouldn't she be devoting time to her art projects and craftly endeavors? Hell yes. I should be doing all of those things, but I'm not. I'm sleeping mostly. I love sleeping. But, since Bonz and I shook up that waterbed, it's even more riddled with leaks than before and it's not very comfortable sleeping in a puddle of water, however warm that water may be. Ick. I can't believe I haven't cleaned my room or at least caught up on my penpal letters. What a lazy ass!
What I really, really need to be doing is figuring out a way to not work for "the Man" anymore. Be my own boss. I'm surely not cut out for the corporate life. I can never make it in on time and I have virtually no drive to succeed in that arena. Climb the ladder? Not for me. Sure, I'd like to be making more money. Sure, I'd like to be more stable and more in control. Who wouldn't? But I find it really hard to get enthusiastic about these crappy dead-end jobs and the business they entail. Most of it seems so meaningless to me. "File these papers." "Enter this data." "Mail these envelopes." What good is it really doing anyone except the big wigs who're making all the real cash? No benefit to society, no benefit to the planet (have you any idea just how much paper gets used>!) and certainly no benefit to my self-esteem. Sure, everyone needs money to live on, but is it wrong to want something more?
The car and the new digs I'd been planning for will have to wait.
What does Neko do when she finds herself with no income? Well, she trots her happy ass down to the temp agency is what she does. I've got a quickie job that'll last me tomorrow and Friday. Then, my application was sent off to another client and I may have a 6 month gig starting in April. The pay on that one is pretty sweet, so I hope it comes through. Insurance? Yeah. That's the tough part. How do I keep my meds coming in? How do I pay for therapy? I guess I'll do what I have to to get by until I've got a steady cash flow again.
Now that Neko has so much free time, what's she been up to? Neko's been gettin' busy with her new b/f is what. If you've had problems finding a steady sexual benefactor, go out and find yourself a young virgin boy to deflower. I couldn't recommend it more highly! Talk about energy, talk about enthusiasm, talk about being appreciated, talk about yummy!!! Of course he's fun to be around and he has more merits than just the goodies. He's an artist! More accurately, and "art student", which is my type completely. We haven't been doing much aside from gettin' busy and watching movies. That'll change when we both get paid. How young is he? Hmm. Well, there's a 10 year difference in age between us. I know, I'm a dirty old woman, but I got over that a while ago. He's not even old enough to hit the bars with me yet. Jesus Christ, he's only 3 years older than my little brother! But, if anything proves that I've "still got it", it's him.
Shouldn't Neko be cleaning house? Shouldn't she be working on her small business plans? Shouldn't she be devoting time to her art projects and craftly endeavors? Hell yes. I should be doing all of those things, but I'm not. I'm sleeping mostly. I love sleeping. But, since Bonz and I shook up that waterbed, it's even more riddled with leaks than before and it's not very comfortable sleeping in a puddle of water, however warm that water may be. Ick. I can't believe I haven't cleaned my room or at least caught up on my penpal letters. What a lazy ass!
What I really, really need to be doing is figuring out a way to not work for "the Man" anymore. Be my own boss. I'm surely not cut out for the corporate life. I can never make it in on time and I have virtually no drive to succeed in that arena. Climb the ladder? Not for me. Sure, I'd like to be making more money. Sure, I'd like to be more stable and more in control. Who wouldn't? But I find it really hard to get enthusiastic about these crappy dead-end jobs and the business they entail. Most of it seems so meaningless to me. "File these papers." "Enter this data." "Mail these envelopes." What good is it really doing anyone except the big wigs who're making all the real cash? No benefit to society, no benefit to the planet (have you any idea just how much paper gets used>!) and certainly no benefit to my self-esteem. Sure, everyone needs money to live on, but is it wrong to want something more?
3.17.2006
Back The Hell Off!
I've promised to make a public announcement, so here it is....
Neko is hereby "off the market". i.e., I'm taken, involved, and no longer on the man hunt.
Bonz now has exclusive rights to my body and heart. We'll see how long this one lasts folks.
Neko is hereby "off the market". i.e., I'm taken, involved, and no longer on the man hunt.
Bonz now has exclusive rights to my body and heart. We'll see how long this one lasts folks.
3.09.2006
The Horrible Kaw of Hell
Crow Art Contest
Prize: $50
Okay boys and girls, here’s the deal. I want to get a tattoo of a crow. Since I can’t stand my own artwork, and since I have so many talented friends, I’ve decided to host a friendly little competition.
Here are the basic Guidelines:
★ All entries must be original artwork
★ Drawing must be approx 4 to 5 inches high
★ Crow must be facing to the left. Its body can be the other way, but its beak must point left.
★ You can submit as many drawings as you want
★ All designs must be black and white
★ The basic style I’m looking for is comic book/animation style with heavy lines and not much fine detail. I don’t mean Looney Tunes though – I still want it to look fairly realistic
★ Keep in mind that tattoos tend to blur as they get older and I don’t want to end up with a blob.
★ I plan to have the final design done on my left shoulder blade
★ Feel free to ask as many questions or to submit drawings for input.
You can submit drawings any of 3 ways:
In person
via email at chibirisu@vegemail.com
use subject line "crow contest" in your email
via mail to
J. P.
PO Box 371391
Denver, CO 80237
USA
3.03.2006
I Wouldn't Be Caught In Hell Wearing That
Okay, since I've turned this thing into a virtual bitchfest, I might as well continue. I mean, who else can I vent to?
So, what's the deal with the itty-bitty sweater fashion? You know, the trend in jackets and botton-up sweaters that only go halfway down? It's really pissing me off! They're generally long sleve and worn over another shirt. So, don't their stomachs get cold? Why the Hell would you wear long sleves, but not have the rest of the thing go down all the way? Every time I see a woman wearing something like that, I have to stifle the desire to run up and smack her! Thank god none of my friends sports those things.
Our department here at work has moved recently to another floor. It's the top floor of the building and, for some reason, most of the people on this floor seem to think their noses should be as high as the office space. There's one girl in particular (who just happens to sport the stupid sweater thing EVERY FUCKING DAY) that really makes my temper flare. I don't ever have to talk to her or work with her or anything.
Oh crap...gotta go.
So, what's the deal with the itty-bitty sweater fashion? You know, the trend in jackets and botton-up sweaters that only go halfway down? It's really pissing me off! They're generally long sleve and worn over another shirt. So, don't their stomachs get cold? Why the Hell would you wear long sleves, but not have the rest of the thing go down all the way? Every time I see a woman wearing something like that, I have to stifle the desire to run up and smack her! Thank god none of my friends sports those things.
Our department here at work has moved recently to another floor. It's the top floor of the building and, for some reason, most of the people on this floor seem to think their noses should be as high as the office space. There's one girl in particular (who just happens to sport the stupid sweater thing EVERY FUCKING DAY) that really makes my temper flare. I don't ever have to talk to her or work with her or anything.
Oh crap...gotta go.
3.02.2006
Cisco Goes to Hell
So, here I am, drinking Milwaukee's Best Light and eating Girl Scout cookies. What a healthy diet, no? I've been pondering for a while about this topic, and since I'm on a roll, I thought, "Why not?"
Thongs. I must have a weird shaped ass. I mean, I'm no J-Lo, but I've definately got an ass. I've been complimented several times on it's shape and spankfulness. But, that was mostly from guys with an agenda. The reason I think I must have an unusual ass, is that virtually every pair of underwear I own crawls up there! I must have around 20 pairs of panties and all but maybe 2 of them end up in the crack after about 5 minutes. Do most women have this problem? I've determined that it's not the style of underwear, because my collection varies in it's fashions. I've got boy-shorts, bikini, lacey, cotton, briefs, you name it. It's not that I'm wearing the wrong size either. So, I've detetermined that it must be ME.
Thongs. They're not particularly comfortable. One thing they do have going for them is that if they end up in your crack, they're in the right place. So, you don't have to sneak those precious seconds in the elevator, or in the stairwell, or that creepy storage room, to dig them out. Guys seem to like them. My step-sister said to me in a conversation once, "I mean, at least that means I get to wear thongs all week." Get to? She's a good deal heavier than me. I don't imagine she looks all that hot sporting a thong, but what do I know?
Thongs. I'm wearing one right now. It has cute little pink bows, and see through patch in the front and that's about all there is to it. I have around 5 pairs of thongs. Why do I own them? Because I thought they were cute in the store. Oh, and guys seem to like them. Why am I wearing one? Because I've been too lazy to do laundry lately and that's all I've got clean. Frankly, I'm not confident enough to wear one on a date, unless it matches my outfit and there's nothing else clean. I'm much more comfortable wearing my boy briefs with the glowing skeletons on them. Those rock. Yes, I wish they were clean right now.
...and Milwaukee's Best Light? I don't recommend it.
Thongs. I must have a weird shaped ass. I mean, I'm no J-Lo, but I've definately got an ass. I've been complimented several times on it's shape and spankfulness. But, that was mostly from guys with an agenda. The reason I think I must have an unusual ass, is that virtually every pair of underwear I own crawls up there! I must have around 20 pairs of panties and all but maybe 2 of them end up in the crack after about 5 minutes. Do most women have this problem? I've determined that it's not the style of underwear, because my collection varies in it's fashions. I've got boy-shorts, bikini, lacey, cotton, briefs, you name it. It's not that I'm wearing the wrong size either. So, I've detetermined that it must be ME.
Thongs. They're not particularly comfortable. One thing they do have going for them is that if they end up in your crack, they're in the right place. So, you don't have to sneak those precious seconds in the elevator, or in the stairwell, or that creepy storage room, to dig them out. Guys seem to like them. My step-sister said to me in a conversation once, "I mean, at least that means I get to wear thongs all week." Get to? She's a good deal heavier than me. I don't imagine she looks all that hot sporting a thong, but what do I know?
Thongs. I'm wearing one right now. It has cute little pink bows, and see through patch in the front and that's about all there is to it. I have around 5 pairs of thongs. Why do I own them? Because I thought they were cute in the store. Oh, and guys seem to like them. Why am I wearing one? Because I've been too lazy to do laundry lately and that's all I've got clean. Frankly, I'm not confident enough to wear one on a date, unless it matches my outfit and there's nothing else clean. I'm much more comfortable wearing my boy briefs with the glowing skeletons on them. Those rock. Yes, I wish they were clean right now.
...and Milwaukee's Best Light? I don't recommend it.
Damn, Damn, Hell, Damn
Neko, you retard. Don't start getting all down in the dumps. So what if he was online and didn't email you? Who cares? He's just some asshole you met on MySpace who sent you a few dirty emails and a few hot pictures. Just like all the other perverts on MySpace. Sure, he's not married like most of them, but still. It doesn't matter. Just because he's hot, doesn't mean you're in love with him. You don't know anything about him. Really now. Don't be such a fuxing idiot. Stupid girl, you still haven't learned a thing.
My first tendency is to withdraw. Like a snail or a sea anenome (can't spell it, can't pronounce it). Close down my account at MySpace, stop responding to emails, make everything dark again. Suck back into my skin, into the comforting darkness inside myself. The darkness that I'm used to. The darkness that I lived in so completely until those pills started dissolving themselves in my stomach. Yes, don't speak to anyone. Immerse yourself in your creative endeavors. Listen to that new NIN cd you bought and turn out the lights and light up a smoke (you really have to quit, you know). Get drunk and forget you're not a rock star.
The more you involve yourself with them, Neko, the more you become vunerable. The easier it is for them to weaken your shell. How foolish of you to come out of it. How foolish, Neko. What is it that'll make you not care? What will it take, after everything you've been through, to open your eyes? Arrrg.....quiet you! (Ignore this completely)
My first tendency is to withdraw. Like a snail or a sea anenome (can't spell it, can't pronounce it). Close down my account at MySpace, stop responding to emails, make everything dark again. Suck back into my skin, into the comforting darkness inside myself. The darkness that I'm used to. The darkness that I lived in so completely until those pills started dissolving themselves in my stomach. Yes, don't speak to anyone. Immerse yourself in your creative endeavors. Listen to that new NIN cd you bought and turn out the lights and light up a smoke (you really have to quit, you know). Get drunk and forget you're not a rock star.
The more you involve yourself with them, Neko, the more you become vunerable. The easier it is for them to weaken your shell. How foolish of you to come out of it. How foolish, Neko. What is it that'll make you not care? What will it take, after everything you've been through, to open your eyes? Arrrg.....quiet you! (Ignore this completely)
2.22.2006
Great Pussy Cats In Hell!
Yeah, see that? My template changed. Yeah, it's a stock template from Blogger. What?
You wanna start somethin'? Step up sucka. I know it's not as drastic as Shenry's retna-boiling choice of colors when he switched to something new. I may not be original, but at least I have some consideration for my readers...uh, reader..maybe? *cricket*
The plan is to jazz it up, change the colors around, darken the place up a bit. The plan is to quit MySpace and most of the other lame-arse crap I'm involved in online. Then I can concentrate on learning some skills; some webish publishing kinda skills. Rest assured, it will be as half-arsed as my other endeavors. Or..maybe I'll trade my ass to the anti-Shenry for some cheap lessons. If he even knows that stuff...of course he knows almost everything. Whatever.
I'm going to go home and paint, and forget that my life is a gerbil wheel of procrastination and failure. Of course, that isn't going to help anything. That's why I'm going to get drunk first. Yeah, that'll solve everything. Maybe I'll stop my the liquor store and spend the night smashing my concience about in a glass of bloody mary. Drown the guilt, drown the sense of responsibility. Drown my terribly lonliness. Lonliness compounded by the fact that I can never get my dates to call me a second time.
I'm not really lonely though. In fact, the company I have (i.e. Daddy), I'm dying to move away from. I get along much better with my family when I'm not living with them. I have a zjillion hobbies that I can't ever find the time to practice. I have kitties anyway. If I can just get the one to stop shitting all over the floor and the other to stop destroying furniture, everything will be just fine.
Whee!
You wanna start somethin'? Step up sucka. I know it's not as drastic as Shenry's retna-boiling choice of colors when he switched to something new. I may not be original, but at least I have some consideration for my readers...uh, reader..maybe? *cricket*
The plan is to jazz it up, change the colors around, darken the place up a bit. The plan is to quit MySpace and most of the other lame-arse crap I'm involved in online. Then I can concentrate on learning some skills; some webish publishing kinda skills. Rest assured, it will be as half-arsed as my other endeavors. Or..maybe I'll trade my ass to the anti-Shenry for some cheap lessons. If he even knows that stuff...of course he knows almost everything. Whatever.
I'm going to go home and paint, and forget that my life is a gerbil wheel of procrastination and failure. Of course, that isn't going to help anything. That's why I'm going to get drunk first. Yeah, that'll solve everything. Maybe I'll stop my the liquor store and spend the night smashing my concience about in a glass of bloody mary. Drown the guilt, drown the sense of responsibility. Drown my terribly lonliness. Lonliness compounded by the fact that I can never get my dates to call me a second time.
I'm not really lonely though. In fact, the company I have (i.e. Daddy), I'm dying to move away from. I get along much better with my family when I'm not living with them. I have a zjillion hobbies that I can't ever find the time to practice. I have kitties anyway. If I can just get the one to stop shitting all over the floor and the other to stop destroying furniture, everything will be just fine.
Whee!
Hell of a Way to Kill Some Time
I'm Lonely!
Hi,
Neko has invited you to join her private movie community on Flixster. Flixster is a free service that lets you see at a glance which movies your friends liked, didn't like or want to see.
Click here to join Neko's community and see all her reviews:
http://www.flixster.com/servlet/invite/83491396jczygmwvdcAB039999
We hope you like the site!
Sincerely,
The Flixster Team (Joe & Saran)
Of course....I guess I could always blog!
Hi,
Neko has invited you to join her private movie community on Flixster. Flixster is a free service that lets you see at a glance which movies your friends liked, didn't like or want to see.
Click here to join Neko's community and see all her reviews:
http://www.flixster.com/servlet/invite/83491396jczygmwvdcAB039999
We hope you like the site!
Sincerely,
The Flixster Team (Joe & Saran)
Of course....I guess I could always blog!
2.17.2006
When the Hell Does it Start?
I just had to share this quote from my friend. I was bitching about how all the attractive men in the office are married. She said, "Seriously, they’ll all start getting divorced soon, because they’ll realize they married high maintenance bitches and then let the games begin!!!" She, incidentally, is married also.
2.16.2006
Hell Is Already Frozen
You know, hardly a day goes by when I don't tell myself:
This is my last cigarette.
I'm going to start drinking more water and working out.
I'm going to pack myself lunch.
Stop giving out your phone number.
Read that credit repair book you got.
And I beat myself up for not doing any of those things. So what the f**k is my problem? Why can't I get anywhere? Lazy much?
This is my last cigarette.
I'm going to start drinking more water and working out.
I'm going to pack myself lunch.
Stop giving out your phone number.
Read that credit repair book you got.
And I beat myself up for not doing any of those things. So what the f**k is my problem? Why can't I get anywhere? Lazy much?
1.27.2006
The Nighttime, Sniffling, Sneezing, Coughing, Take it When You Feel Like Hell Medicine
With a chilling "Snnnooooccchhhkkk! Phoo!!" the mucus monster stirs finally from its humid and murky cave. For what seems like years, the beast has been hybernating; waking only to injest various elixers and liquid diet. Now I understand why the Creature from the Black Lagoon was so pissed off. It's hard breathing through a layer of mucus all the time - like a human swamp cooler. My head feels like a walnut. Just crack the fucker open already and get it over with. Ick.
I've been in bed all week, sleeping most of the time. I had horrible nightmares of not being able to breathe. I had soup after soup, glass after glass of OJ. And, no, I'm not better. I feel like someone's sitting on my chest all the time. Get off you bastard and let me breathe. I think half the reason I came in to work today was to show everyone how miserable I am. Just so they don't think I'm faking. And if I get lucky, they'll all get it too and come whining to me, "Is this what you had? God, it sucks. I feel so sorry for you." Hee hee.
Now I get to go home and crawl back into the murky cave, shrivel up and die for a while. No phone calls please. No I can't come out to play. I feel like I could fill the worlds oceans with my own mucus. Eeew...how can the human organism produce so much of the stuff?! I coughed up what looked like SpongeBob earlier today, except a little greener. I'm so delirious that I almost started talking to him. Not a good idea Neko. You must keep them thinking that you're normal. Not insane! Not insane! Not me. No, no, certainly not insane....
I've been in bed all week, sleeping most of the time. I had horrible nightmares of not being able to breathe. I had soup after soup, glass after glass of OJ. And, no, I'm not better. I feel like someone's sitting on my chest all the time. Get off you bastard and let me breathe. I think half the reason I came in to work today was to show everyone how miserable I am. Just so they don't think I'm faking. And if I get lucky, they'll all get it too and come whining to me, "Is this what you had? God, it sucks. I feel so sorry for you." Hee hee.
Now I get to go home and crawl back into the murky cave, shrivel up and die for a while. No phone calls please. No I can't come out to play. I feel like I could fill the worlds oceans with my own mucus. Eeew...how can the human organism produce so much of the stuff?! I coughed up what looked like SpongeBob earlier today, except a little greener. I'm so delirious that I almost started talking to him. Not a good idea Neko. You must keep them thinking that you're normal. Not insane! Not insane! Not me. No, no, certainly not insane....
1.13.2006
1.10.2006
The Talons of Hell
Normally, I'm not into "girly" things. I don't like trying on clothes. I don't like "chick flicks". I don't usually wear makeup. Heals make me cringe. And, I've never had a manicure....until now.
Once, I had a pedicure and it was a huge waste of time and money for me, as was the tanning salon. So, I thought that having my fingernails done would be a similar experience. That is, until my mother showed me her hardcore reinforced talons of doom! She revealed to me a set of fingers with prismatic tips, barely worn away after 3 weeks! I asked her if she ever uses her hands, because I'm always doing something with my fingers (that's not what I meant, pervert). She said, "always". She also described how her natural nails have a tendancy to flake apart. I examined her digits closely, under the bar room half-light. She has just the tips of her nails added and then a layer of acrylic painted over the whole shebang.
For some, I suppose the whole manicure thing isn't such a big deal. Maybe it's not quite the marvel I think it is. But, I realized, after speaking to mom, that I might have possibly found the solution to my own nail problem. My nails have a tendancy to break where they're still attached to the skin. Then, a little corner pops up; a sharp little scratchy point of nail. That little scratchy thing catches on every piece of fabric or strand of hair and tears. It tears away little by little, bleeding where it pulls free of the tender skin underneath. Every time I go to brush the hair from my face, the pointy thing scratches and jabs at me. Fucking painful torture! I've tried clipping and filing, but it never works.
So, yesterday, I went and got myself a fancy shmancy maincure! It looks so great! It is taking some getting used to though, but I can still type (obviously) and function. So, does this mean I'm girly now?
Once, I had a pedicure and it was a huge waste of time and money for me, as was the tanning salon. So, I thought that having my fingernails done would be a similar experience. That is, until my mother showed me her hardcore reinforced talons of doom! She revealed to me a set of fingers with prismatic tips, barely worn away after 3 weeks! I asked her if she ever uses her hands, because I'm always doing something with my fingers (that's not what I meant, pervert). She said, "always". She also described how her natural nails have a tendancy to flake apart. I examined her digits closely, under the bar room half-light. She has just the tips of her nails added and then a layer of acrylic painted over the whole shebang.
For some, I suppose the whole manicure thing isn't such a big deal. Maybe it's not quite the marvel I think it is. But, I realized, after speaking to mom, that I might have possibly found the solution to my own nail problem. My nails have a tendancy to break where they're still attached to the skin. Then, a little corner pops up; a sharp little scratchy point of nail. That little scratchy thing catches on every piece of fabric or strand of hair and tears. It tears away little by little, bleeding where it pulls free of the tender skin underneath. Every time I go to brush the hair from my face, the pointy thing scratches and jabs at me. Fucking painful torture! I've tried clipping and filing, but it never works.
So, yesterday, I went and got myself a fancy shmancy maincure! It looks so great! It is taking some getting used to though, but I can still type (obviously) and function. So, does this mean I'm girly now?
1.09.2006
Change is Hell
What the heck happened to Shenry's blog? It's all kinds of gay-ass colors in horrible combinations ala Pacific Sunwear window display. My eyes burn! Change it back! Change it back!!
1.03.2006
Hellish New Year
Hello. I'd like to warn any potential viewers against the content of this post. If you want to read a post about 3 intelligent orphans and their brushes with an evil count, I'm sure there's one on the next blog over. There's still plenty of time. But, if you like to read about a complete stranger and hear her whine about her pathetic life, you've come to the right place.
The first thought that sprang to mind on the morning of January 1st, 2006 was that I'd like to kill myself. I don't think it had a whole lot to do with where I woke up or who I woke up next to. After all, I could have done worse. Mystery solved anyway. I don't think it was lack of medication, and I wasn't hung over either. But, for some reason, I was really depressed and I haven't been able to shake this feeling since.
It's not that I didn't have a good time on New Year's Eve. I went to a bar with Shenry, The Silver Queen and the Anti-Shen. It was a fairly quiet evening, at least the way I remember it. I remember that, for what I think may be the very first time, I had a whole bunch of fun with Silver. I've always enjoyed her company before, but somehow this time we really clicked. That was cool. I also remember that I was waaaay too preoccupied with the waiter. Almost to the point of being rude to my companions, I think. I suck.
Don't worry though. I'm on enough meds not to try to actually hurt myself. So, don't expect to hear about me in the hospital or read my obituary. I've just been thinking about it. A lot.
Really though, what do I have to bitch about? I've definately lived through worse periods in my life. I still have my job and a place to live. I wrote out my resolutions and everything. So, what's my problem. New Year's funk?
The first thought that sprang to mind on the morning of January 1st, 2006 was that I'd like to kill myself. I don't think it had a whole lot to do with where I woke up or who I woke up next to. After all, I could have done worse. Mystery solved anyway. I don't think it was lack of medication, and I wasn't hung over either. But, for some reason, I was really depressed and I haven't been able to shake this feeling since.
It's not that I didn't have a good time on New Year's Eve. I went to a bar with Shenry, The Silver Queen and the Anti-Shen. It was a fairly quiet evening, at least the way I remember it. I remember that, for what I think may be the very first time, I had a whole bunch of fun with Silver. I've always enjoyed her company before, but somehow this time we really clicked. That was cool. I also remember that I was waaaay too preoccupied with the waiter. Almost to the point of being rude to my companions, I think. I suck.
Don't worry though. I'm on enough meds not to try to actually hurt myself. So, don't expect to hear about me in the hospital or read my obituary. I've just been thinking about it. A lot.
Really though, what do I have to bitch about? I've definately lived through worse periods in my life. I still have my job and a place to live. I wrote out my resolutions and everything. So, what's my problem. New Year's funk?
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