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.

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...

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!

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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!!

The Burning Passions of Hell

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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.

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..."

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)

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.

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.

I'll Send You To Hell

The Gent People Iced: Thirteen Car Bombs Planted: Thirteen Favorite Weapon Shards of Glass Arms Broken: Thirteen Eyes Gouged: Twenty Eight Tongues Cut Off: Five Biggest Enemy: Ruprick Get Your HITMAN Name

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.

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.

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.

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....

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!

"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.

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!

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.

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?

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.

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

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.

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.

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)

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!

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!

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.

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?

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....

Image Hellp

Okay....lets give this a shot...

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?

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!!

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?

Hell and Wonderland

In order to write perverse lyrics to popular Christmas carols, one must necessarily know the original lyrics. So, I've been researching the words to "Winter Wonderland". There are several variations of the "In the meadow, we can build a snowman" stanza (I don't know if I'm using that word correctly).

In what I believe to be the original version, the verse goes on to say,
"and pretend that he is Parson Brown.
He'll say, 'are you married?'. We'll say, 'no man,
But you can do the job when you're in town.'"

But, there are two other versions I've come across. One replaces "Parson Brown" with "Charlie Brown" and goes on thusly:
"We'll have lots of fun with Mr. Snowman,
until the other kiddies knock him down."

The other variation also uses "Charlie Brown", but then follows:
"We'll have lots of fun with Mr. Snowman,
until the aligator knocks him down."

That's the verson that confuses me the most . Where does the aligator come in? Do aligators have any place in a "winter wonderland"? Who's the nut job who came up with that one?!

Really though, I don't understand why the lyrics need to be changed at all. Could it be that the lyric was outdated? Do people no longer know what a parson is? Maybe it was an adaptation promted by religious stance. A parson probably indicates a certain denomination and maybe it was changed to be more universal. It certainly couldn't be that the implications of those lines in the song were too "adult" for a children's melody. When you think about it, it's kind of a sweet notion. Two people build a snowman and pretend that they're going to be married before it. It's romantic.

So, what could it possibly be, and where in Hell did the aligator come from???

Now, if you want a dirty Christmas song, listen to "Let it Snow" a few times.

Hell's Jingle Bells

My, it looks as if it's been about a month since I've posted anything here. It may be the holidays approaching and the mad rush to spend as much money as possible beforehand. It may be my complete lack of interest in anything online other than Neopets. I'm a fucking addict. I don't even work at my job anymore. It's just the bare minimum that I can get away with before I log on to get my fix. This is worse than heroin. Heroin isn't free!

Anyway, I must have thought of a hundred viable posts to tack up here. Neko A Go Go was supposed to be a notebook of sorts. So that I might jot down ideas to expand upon later. That obviously hasn't worked. I don't have much to say now, other than, "Yes, I'm still alive." and "No, I haven't abandoned this project completely." Maybe after the holidays, I'll have more to elaborate on. I did see "Narnia" today. I do recommend it.

I've got family flying into town on Tuesday. So, my father's stressing out that the house won't be absolutely spottless before they arrive. You see, my Grandmother almost never leaves her house. So, this may be the last time she's to set foot in this awful state. Apparently, if everything isn't perfect, my father's going to have another heart attack. God damn it.

Hell On Wheels

You see, this is why I own an SUV:

It's not because it gets great gas mileage (ha, ha).
It's not because I'm a soccer mom (you know I'm not).
It's not because I love the open road (I'd rather fly).

And let's just set aside the fact that it was free.

The reason I own an SUV is something I like to call "Urban Off-Roading". Just yesterday, I "flipped a bitch" in the middle of a two lane road. It required that I drive up onto the sidewalk for about 20 feet. Just after that sweet maneuver, I plowed down some suburban landscaping in the neighboring yuppified strip mall. Every time I pull up to the liquor store, I leave tread marks on the curb.

On the back of my out-dated gas guzzler, I have several bumper stickers, which read the following:

"I hate everyone, please make a note of it."
"Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver"
"Same nightmare, different day."
and a Happy Tree Friends beaver that says, "Be Afraid".

Dangling from the rearview, I have a small collection of air freshners:

Devil girl with a martini in hand (my brother says it reminds him of me)
Black Cat (ala Emily The Strange) that says, "Bad Kitty"
Devil Kitty surrounded in flames reads, "Devil"

none of which do any actual "air freshening" anymore.

On the dash is a sleek black kitty bobble-head.
Flames on the seat cover. Flames on the steering wheel.

You bet it's one bad-ass ride! So, when I cut you off in traffic to the uber decible screams of My Chemical Romance and a hand from the window gives you the "one finger wave", just smile and say, "I know that chick."

Virtual Hell

Of all the god-forsaken things for me to get involved with! It's not bad enough that I've got two blogs and excessive Yahoo! groups, not to mention email and research. Now I had to go and get a Neopet!! What the fuck was I thinking!? I guess, deep down inside, I miss my Tamagochi.

In case anyone else out there has fallen into the same trap, I'm "chibirisu666" and my pets are "Samshoa" the bat creature and "Rockoa" the demonic goat creature. Maybe you can help me figure out what to do now. Sheesh.

Punching My Way Into Hell

I hope you're all enjoying my random brainwaves. It helps to have an input device away from a computer, but text messaging must be short and simple. Hopefully, that adds charm. If not, oh well. (and by the way - "he" turned out to be a roadie.)

In keeping with my strategy of only falling in love with characters and objects, I have a new object of affection. Over the weekend, some friends and I got together to do a little scrapbooking. I know what you're thinking, it seems like kind of a "stay-at-home mom" kind of hobby. However, while my cropping companions were deftly organizing photos of birthdays and easter egg hunts, I was pasting together a colorful montage of blurry concert photos. Having caught up with that scrapbook, next month's project will be my scrapbook about death. It doesn't go over very well with my friends when I spend the whole time mumbling about how much I detest children and Christmas. Hmf. But if they couldn't handle it, they wouldn't be my friends.

Back to topic here...my new love. The host of this month's cropping party also happens to be a rep for Creative Memories. She had a bunch of their products available for our use (subtle, but effective), one of which happened to be a set of paper punches in star shapes. Gasp! I lifted the device tentatively at first. Heavy. I examined it briefly to determine how it operates. Grasping a crisp sheet of mounting paper, I slid its edge into the slot of the device. When I was confident that the paper was well positioned, I pressed down firmly and swiftly on the five-pointed knob. There was a moment of hesitation. Then, I removed my sheet of paper. Okay, that's kind of nifty ~ a star shaped hole in my paper. For some reason though, that's not what got me juicy. I set down the perforated page and, like a kid watching a majic trick, I lifted the paper puncher. Underneath, perfect and delicate, was a brightly colored star. It shone up at me and my heart throbbed. Oh star-shaped paper puncher, how I love thee! You punch me and I see stars. You "click" and the world is a precious galaxy

One Hell of An Idea

I now have a "mobile blog" to which I can post from my cell phone. Yay. Now I can get into a wreck while posting from the highway! Whoooo Rah!

Hell-a Cool Phrase

Here's a word that my little brother and I have recently adopted into our regular vocabulary. "Chillax". It was taken from the movie "Final Destination 2" and it's a combination of "Chill" and "Relax". It's nifty, doncha think? Use it in a sentence? "I really need to go home and chillax."

Yeah, I know the posts are piddly today. But, I'm so damn upset about everything else that I can't articulate properly regarding them. The Avalance will come soon enough...don't you worry.

Have a Hell Heart

This is nifty.

Like A Bat Out of Hell

Hey, wanna see something wicked-bad? Neko got a wild hair for some ink on Halloween and got herself tattooed. It's been way, way too long since Neko went under the needle. Now Neko's got an evil bat creature perched on her shoulder. Freakin' cool!

I've decided that I'm going to fall in love with random things, instead of real people. The way I figure it, if I direct all of those intense feelings at an object, or a movie character, I won't sandblast anyone foolish enough to fall into a relationship with me. My flavor of the moment is the main character in High Tension. Fuckin' A!! Not only is she a dyke, not only does she masturbate at the beginning of the movie, but she's a tough-ass psycho bitch. Love, love. love! I've never been so horny during a horror movie in my life. Is it wrong to bust out the vibrator while someone on screen is being shredded to bloody pulp with a gas powered circular saw? Oh, and did I mention she's French? Fuckin' A!!

Sneaky Little Hellion

I've been to The Book and I snuck off with something. Let's see if I can be clever in 15 minutes.

[x]three names you go by[x]
1. Neko
2. Neko Noir
3. Chibi Risu

[x]three parts of your heritage[x]
1. Italian
2. Greek
3. Whitie

[x]three things that scare you[x]
1. bridges
2. large dogs
3. the words "I love you"

[x]three of your everyday essentials[x]
1. shower
2. liquor
3. masturbation

[x]three things you are wearing right now[x]
1. Black Doc Martins
2. maxi pad
3. coffee stains

[x]three favorite musical artists[x]
1. Beck
2. Bjork
3. Jack White

[x]three favorite songs[x]
1. Helena - My Chemical Romance
2. Vampires Will Never Hurt You - My Chemical Romance
3. Fur Elise - Beethoven

[x]three things you want in a relationship[x]
1. sex
2. sex
3. sex

[x]two truths and a lie[x]
1. I am not fat
2. I am not pretty
3. I am not sober

[x]three physical things about the opposite sex that appeal to you[x]
1. eyes
2. hair (only the head kind)
3. shoulders

[x]three of your favorite hobbies[x]
1. drinking
2. sleeping
3. imagining devine retribution

[x]three things you want to do really badly right now[x]
1. go home
2. take off my clothes
3. take a shower

[x]three places you want to go on vacation[x]
1. Japan
2. Gerard Way's house
3. Gerard Way's bed

[x]three things you want to do before you die[x]
1. Jump out of an airplane
2. Fuck Gerard Way
3. Fuck Gerard Way again

[x]three ways that you are stereotypically a chick/dude[x]
1. I'm a slut
2. I like cute fuzzy things
3. I'll sleep with your friends and try to steal your s/o

Hilarious Every Little Line

I've just been reading Sweat Flavored Gummi (see link to right and down, down, down) and it was all I could do to maintain my composure here at work. They know I'm not working. But not working AND laughing would be pushing my luck way too far. I think I'm in love.

A Hell of a Mood (Part II)

After reading my last post (if you haven't, I suggest you do so now), you might be thinking that the whole process is unfair, that different people have different views and experiences, everyone makes mistakes, and one is entitled to a little indescretion now and again. And you'd be right. That's why the legislative branch of K.A.R.M.A. exists. This branch consists of a board that collectively determines if certain actions require neutralization. It's primary governing guidelines would be the following:

1. "Acts of Stupidity" shall be defined as those which endanger or supremely annoy, unnecessarily, the general population.

2. "Acts of Stupidity" that do not effect individuals outside of the one performing the act will not be considered punishable actions. (i.e. if Idiot Bob forgets which way his front doorknob turns on a consistent basis, although dumb, shall not be considered grounds for termination, because no one else is harmed or inconvenienced by his forgetfulness.)

3. One time "Acts of Stupidity" also shall not be subject to enforcement. It is allowable that each member of the population make a small degree of mistakes during their existence.

4. Only "Acts of Stupidity" that are performed repeatedly , or a habitual combination of stupid bahaviors, shall be grounds for enforcement.

4a. In the event that an individual's "Act of Stupidity" grossly endangers the life of another (as in the bear example) enforcement shall immediately be allowed.

The committee determining which acts will be defined as "gross endangerment" and which acts effect the population adversely, shall be made up of an equal number of males and females who come from different cultures and backgrounds. One culture may view an act as idiotic. However, without the understanding that different perspectives can bring about, it may not come to light that the individual performing the action is doing so according to ignorance of his surroundings, rather than a consious intent to disregard his fellow citizens.

Okay, chew on that for a while, while I get back to work.

A Hell of a Mood

Well, it's been one week and 3 days since my last cigarette. I've developed quite a little attitude problem since then. I find myself wondering if this is a permanent personality shift, or if it's only a passing reaction to the lack of chemicals I once inhaled. There's a powder keg of anger and fustration inside me, and this new mood thing has put a short fuse on the little stick of dynamite that is Neko. You can see it in my eyes - a thinly veiled contempt for the world. Not so much the world as the people in it. A seething cauldron of rage just beneath the surface, threatening to erupt and spew lava on the next villager who dares to disrespect the gods. Sure, I've still got the Nicotine gum, but screw the gum. I haven't chewed a piece all week and I don't really care to. Not that the gum is a bad thing. It just takes too much effort. That's right asshole, I'm too lazy even to chew gum.

With that said, I'm not sure if this next idea arose from my new loathing for mankind, or the combination of prescription drugs swimming around in my brain. I've developed the outline for a new secret society. It would need to operate as a highly classified branch of the government. A black ops kind of thing. Deep under cover. Think of it as enforced karma. And it goes a little something like this:

The sole purpose of this organization is to manage the spread of ignorance and decline of common sense in our society. By "manage" I mean to secretly monitor and cull the herd where necessary. Said organization has 3 branches, shadowy mimics of the 3 headed beast that is our Democracy. The first branch would be the legislative arm. The second, enforcement, and the third, judicial.

There would be "scouts" from this organization mingling with the civilian population. I would use the word "undercover", but the whole damn operation is undercover. These "scouts" are keeping watch on their assigned section of the population. When an individual is observed doing something completely stupid...

** Completely stupid, here, means stopping to have a conversation about nothing right in the middle of the damned hallway that everyone else has to walk through. Or, speeding up and weaving through traffic, just to end up at the stoplight, one car ahead of their previous position. Other examples include talking on a cell phone at the sales counter, putting on make-up while driving, microwaving poodles, spitting gum on the ground for someone to step on, putting honey on a child's face just for a good photo op with bears, breaking car windows when the doors are unlocked, using the car horn as a commentary device, rather than a warning device, and so on. More on this later. **

...that individual is "tagged" with a nanobyte. The nanobyte will serve to track the individual and will be so tiny that the subject won't feel it enter their flesh after being forcefully projected from some type of blowgun thingie. Let's call the subject "Idiot Bob".

Now, the scout has done their job. It's time for the judiciary branch to move in. Their job is to monitor Idiot Bob to determine whether or not his bonehead faux pas is the result of an innocent slip up, or a symptom of chronic stupidity. If it is determined that Idiot Bob just messed up this once, monitoring is discontinued and the nanobyte is deactivated via a remote device. The nanobyte decomposes and is passed through the body as waste. The process is slightly less painful than passing a kidney stone.

But, and here's where it gets good boys and girls, if it is determined that Idiot Bob is truly a moronic asshole he is eliminated. As he's exiting Starbucks with his double frapilated half-caff mocha latte in one hand and holding his cell phone with the other, walking to his double-parked, blinding yellow H2 with the oversized tires and unnecessary radio antennae, the "K.A.R.M.A." team will pop up out of manholes, jump out from the shadows, and generally materialize. They will tackle Idiot Bob to the pavement, point their .357 Magnums, in all their matte-black glory, at his head, and send the contents of his skull sailing across the asphalt. (Big grin here)

I've got to stop here and go to lunch. But, I'll be back with more..oh yes, you can count on it!

What the Hell is Neko Doing

Fucking around with css and html are fun. Maybe I'll relearn all that stuff I forgot over the years. Better yet, maybe I'll learn some new tricks! If all goes well, maybe this blog will start to look halfway decent for a change.

I Feel Like Hell

Doctor Unheimlich has diagnosed me with Neko's Lurgy
Cause:	sporting injury
Symptoms:	earache, cloudy urine, inability to turn neck, automatic writing
Cure:	expensive biofeedback devices
Enter your name, for your own diagnosis:

Hellbutrin

Long story short (or long story told in short sentences).
Neko wants birth control. Neko goes to doctor. Doctor prescribes birth control. Doctor says stop smoking or die. Neko says allergic to patch. Doctor prescribes Wellbutrin to help quit. Doctor suggests patch. Neko reminds doctor of allergy. Doctor suggests gum. Neko goes home. Neko takes pills.

Neko feels like crap. Neko is nauseous. Neko is dizzy. Neko's anxiety level skyrockets. Neko has lost desire to smoke (mostly). Neko has also lost desire to eat, drink and have sex. Neko has lost desire to masturbate. Neko is not depressed. Impossible to be depressed on so many pills. Miserable, yes, but not depressed.

Gummi Bears From Hell

Oh, here it is. Sweet Flavored Gummi. Or, Sweat Flavord Gummi?

When Hell Froze Over

Fuckitty, Fuck, fuck! Today is our first snowstorm of the season. First of many, I'm sure, since I live in a crappy state with crappy weather!! NOW I remember why I hate it here so much. It's been snowing all day, all day since before I woke up this morning. Slushy, trees breaking, endless flakes of white pouring and pouring down like...well...something cold and fucking horrible!

At least it's dead at work today. Thank you Columbus. I don't have to walk between buildings nearly so often as on usual Mondays. Of course, that means tomorrow will be double bad. But, for now at least, I'm enjoying the inactivity. I just remembered that they revised the "Employee Handbook" here to include something about not blogging. I've never read the "Employee Handbook", but I got an email about the updates and I remember people asking what "blogging" is. Oh well.

Anyway, I've been cruising around the 'net, hopping from blog to blog. Normally, the only blog I get over to read is Shenry's (find link to right). Reading his blog always makes me want to give up posting here. He's such a damn good writer! After a visit to The Book, my abmition and self confidence withers away like an 80 year old boner when the viagra wears off. But, today I started from his wonderous blog and browsed some of the links that he has to his favorite reads. I found a few gems, particularly one called "gummi" or something to that effect. (will research and post link here) And I realized something important - several of them were fantastic and enjoyable to read, but each of them had an entirely different style. So, now I don't feel so impotent. Maybe it's not that I'm a bad writer. Maybe I just have a different style?