I will try with the man. After all, if it isn't hard, it's not worth doing...in bed (my favorite fortune ever ;p).

Oh, you think? Take note SUV drivers, and the economy thanks you for the support, suckers.

What's worse than reading on the news that for the sake of war, we killed about 40 civilians yesterday, some attending a wedding?

Reading this crap: "What Pearl Harbor did to American patriotism, May 17 should do to the Christian level of awareness." Oh those wily psychopaths....comparing gay marriage to a military kamikaze battle that left thousands of people dead. Bless my soul...with that line of thinking, I might start attributing any tall blond women to Nazi Germany.

What's truly scary is that a lot of people get swayed by this bullshit logical fallacy replete with buzz words (oh, my gaw, those gays are unpatriotic, why this might as well be the christian holocaust). Next they'll be saying that we should kill non-Christians for the glory of God. Oh wait...

one more obsession gone (*sniff*)

quipping vampires to be replaced by mobsters who say fuck a lot (watched all of season 2 in front of my squirming mom, very entertaining). I just can't seem to get away from the gold chains....

In search of inventive ways to avoid nearing deadline for draft of boring ass stuff that only Congress would care about, like where that $65 million went anyways. $65 million....peanuts.

So, instead of cranking out this highly important document, I search the internet for places to play volleyball, dream of eating greek food, and wonder what it would be like living as a fiery and birkenstocked socialist in Vermont. Ah. Much more entertaining than guzzling diet coke and listening to the Navy's initiatives on reassessing the force structure of littoral ship capabilities and our military's move toward more joint operations according to jiffycom...or was it the jizzy...no it was jiffypop. Yes, jiffypop.

As I am too appalled by the events happening elsewhere in the world that I am beyond significant comment (except that we are digging ourselves into an incredibly deep grave), I bring you...

My beef for the day:

Cap sleeves and super low-slung jeans (or as I call them "ass crack pants", not to be confused with "shiny ass pants").

Like gaucho pants, victorian collars, neon oversized sweatshirts, and strapless bandeau polyester minidresses, what is popular in women's fashion often has nothing to do with what looks good on a woman.

In the eighties, when I was in elementary school, I distinctly remember wearing bright pink capri pants, yellow T-shirt, and a rainbow belt, with jelly shoes and multi-colored hair elastics (for that pony-tail on the side). I knew that I looked awful, but like other girls my age, I was conditioned early by Seventeen magazine and wanted to be cute. Instead, I was Rainbow Brite.

In the nineties, I wore a flannel, baby doll dresses, and lots of black. I was comfortable, but still looked awful. Even though I looked like a mix between Eddie Vedder and a sad homeless girl, at least I wasn't wearing parachute pants.

Now, in the time of flattering the figure with bias-cut skirts, sundresses and wrap shirts, comes the cap sleeve T-shirt and the low slung jeans. Often paired together, this popular outfit makes teens, young women, and trying-too-hard-to-be-young matrons remold their perfectly fine figures into visions of lumpy squeezed out flesh. You've all seen it, and I have yet to find someone who actually thinks it's sexy. When caught in close proximity to this horror, I'm caught between equal urges to back away from this science experiment, and to run up to the unfortunate girl, poke the oozing folds and laugh at the jiggles. (Yes, I am a bad and judgemental person--fuck you, you suck.)

Now, only a minor part of the blame goes to the female customer--they buy too-small shirts and who-needs-hips jeans in the delusion that they are still the same size as in high school or they need tight support because they lack bones. However, MOST of the blame goes toward retail companies that sell "fashion" to women. Although a woman wants to buy a shirt with some sort of sleeve and pants that both covers her nice round ass and her very feminine belly, our choices offered by these establishments are very skimpy.

For example, I was out shopping in search of generic T-shirts that had a close fit and some jeans, and all I found cap sleeved half shirts and ass crack pants. Cap sleeves have got to be the most unflattering cut--sleeves about 1-1/2 inches long with a border of ribbing or contrasting color, emphasizing the broadest part of any woman's arm, so that bicep and tricep appear to be fat. Pair that with pants cut so low that the zippers are a mere 2-inches and the "waistband" wraps over the widest part of the hips. To keep them on, one must either wear a belt or get a smaller size--whichever one does, pants still will fall down and pushes ass, crack and all, upward. Sad sight, isn't it? To add insult to injury, the only shirt in the whole store that did not have cap sleeves had "Donuts...it's best for dinner" printed on the front.

Obviously, I bought flip flops.

Next up - star trek. *shudder*

As if there needs to be more proof I am a geek....Was very excited last night over Angel episode, since 1) I could understand Italian, 2) gotta love the Angel and Spike banter, 3) after visiting the WB set, I knew that "psuedo european town," and 3) completely recognized, and wanted, Andrew's Strong Bad T-shirt.

Or maybe it was all that cinco de mayo-ing (yeah, that's my excuse). Grande margarita!!

**For you trekkies out there, I apologize for the seemingly derisive tone. I watched star trek. I can distinguish the seasons of the 1st series by theme song variations. I had a crush on Captain Picard (hello...distinguished, accented, and commanding!) However, I don't go to cons, I don't read the novels, don't like that series with the Ferengi, and can't watch Scott Bakula in anything else but Quantum Leap. It's just that slippery slope towards complete and utter anti-social behavior that scares me, so I draw a fine line.

Suck suck suck, says the wee parasite.

Psychology is just so fun. I admit that I have a very unhealthy interest in the subject, and like the sado-masochist that I have designated myself to be, get a perverse glow from taking apart other people's problems and at the same time self-diagnose all my little quirks into major psychosis. Got great grades in it too, by memorizing every symptom, disease, treatment, and side-effects by thinking of "normal" people that I know. :)

But to spin off something that I mentioned in eL's geltab rant, I'm still very skeptical of psychiatry, psychology, and other mental/emotional studies. It's a very mushy and circumstantial science, and I believe most of it is motivated by money and luck. For example, I've researched extensively the different diseases and disorders and how they are diagnosed by symptom and severity, but could still see how these psychological problems are partly a cop-out. Sure, a person could be depressed. Bi-polar. Psychotic. Schzoid personality. Obsessive-compulsive. Anti-social. ADD. But when does it really become a disease that is physical, and corrected through medication, or just an emotional problem that a person with effort should be able to control? I know, I know....medication does help. There are tons of people who really improve with drugs and therapy. But how much of this cure is the disease and vice versa? As Bob pointed out, sometimes the reaction or withdrawal from the drug in fact causes other disorders. And when you add in the drug corporations pushing the medication, you wonder if drugs are given to improve symptoms or fatten wallets.

And what about those on the fringes, I wonder? The ones whose symptoms are just not severe enough to warrant diagnosis with an answer to life's problems? What makes them in no way physically disabled and just impulse control challenged? What makes psychologist know what is truly insane and what is just lazy? Severity to me is all relative, and I still don't see how a person who is 1-week depressed is told to "brighten up and get moving" when a 2-week depressed person is given a pill. Maybe I'm harsh and judgemental, but I see no difference between a psychotic killer and a criminally liable murderer.

In lieu of more parental unit suckage, I bring you:

1) more Myers-Briggs fun--I just can't seem to break free from that ENTP

and 2) the Black and Blue Album.

P.S. Not that one. As if.