Holy Hell....WTF?!

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

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

Movies From Hell

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

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

Hell of a Good Time

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

Do Me Hard In Hell

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

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

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

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

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

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

When I Feel Like Hell

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



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

Let's Get the Hell Outta Here

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

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

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

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

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

Where the Hell is My Phone Call?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

((grumble, grumble, grumble))

Another Hell-a Cool Website

Attention artists, web designers and lovers of cuteness:

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

Holy Hell Geekery, Batman!

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

Sista's Gotsta Stick Togetha' 'N Hell

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

Soft, Cuddly and Straight from Hell

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

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

Crazy Like a Hell Fox

Evening Sans Hell

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

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

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

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

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

Out of the Frying Pan and Into Hell

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

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

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

Thanks!

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

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

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

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

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

Vent Thine Hellish Spleen

Dear Asshole,

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

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

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

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

Fond Regards,

Neko

Wake Up In Hell

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

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

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

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

Hell Has New Rules

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

KFC Can Go to Hell

Make your own KFC sign at KentuckyFriedCruelty.com

Making a Racket in Hell

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

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

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

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

Useful Tips from Hell

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