5.26.2004
5.20.2004
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...
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...
5.19.2004
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....
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....
5.14.2004
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.
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.
5.12.2004
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.
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.
5.06.2004
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.
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.
5.04.2004
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.
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.
5.03.2004
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.
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.
4.29.2004
Oh dear god, this vivid imagination must go!!
As if it isn't bad enough that I can recall nice scarring memories from childhood in full technicolor glory (bunnies getting raked over and the sky turning into blood--thanks mom, yes watership down was a cartoon, but not for children)...
But now, it's the Trumpster....
Let me explain, as I'm dodging work on this government's version of the "weenis," I like to look through the various news media via the internet, as in trash, trash, and more trash, sprinkled in with a bit of military diatribe. Today, it was the A&E section of salon.com...and I see the blip "Trump proposes to girlfriend"
...and suddenly...
I see a sweaty red faced, mostly naked lump of a Trump, straddled by the newest blond lifesize Barbie, while he grunted, "Fire me, fire me! Yah!"
*shudder* I understand that normally when people are dating, they are having sex. Also, Donnie boy specifically must have at some point since he has progeny. Although a good romp in my head usually entertains me pretty well, this scene horrifies my mind like watching Tammy Faye Baker get a boob job....things that may happen but I don't need to see.
I wonder what psychological issues caused that flash of disturbing yuck. Must start drinking at work.
As if it isn't bad enough that I can recall nice scarring memories from childhood in full technicolor glory (bunnies getting raked over and the sky turning into blood--thanks mom, yes watership down was a cartoon, but not for children)...
But now, it's the Trumpster....
Let me explain, as I'm dodging work on this government's version of the "weenis," I like to look through the various news media via the internet, as in trash, trash, and more trash, sprinkled in with a bit of military diatribe. Today, it was the A&E section of salon.com...and I see the blip "Trump proposes to girlfriend"
...and suddenly...
I see a sweaty red faced, mostly naked lump of a Trump, straddled by the newest blond lifesize Barbie, while he grunted, "Fire me, fire me! Yah!"
*shudder* I understand that normally when people are dating, they are having sex. Also, Donnie boy specifically must have at some point since he has progeny. Although a good romp in my head usually entertains me pretty well, this scene horrifies my mind like watching Tammy Faye Baker get a boob job....things that may happen but I don't need to see.
I wonder what psychological issues caused that flash of disturbing yuck. Must start drinking at work.
4.28.2004
Hmm, considering relocating....any suggestions?
I know I've done this before, but I had to doublecheck which places I've been:
create your own personalized map of the USA
or write about it on the open travel guide
...exactly 50%...I need to travel more, New Mexico anyone??
On another note: someone just found my site by searching for "a racially balanced group of mutant children twitch arrhythmically"...you've gotta love fans. At least it wasn't "blowjob."
I know I've done this before, but I had to doublecheck which places I've been:
create your own personalized map of the USA
or write about it on the open travel guide
...exactly 50%...I need to travel more, New Mexico anyone??
On another note: someone just found my site by searching for "a racially balanced group of mutant children twitch arrhythmically"...you've gotta love fans. At least it wasn't "blowjob."
4.27.2004
The return of slacker blogger supreme: bow down to my utter lack of wit and motivation!!
Seriously, you wonder what's up with the g? Only enough to bring a happy idealistic girl down and make her feel like the helpless lump she is.
There's insane work and travel schedule with goddamn negative anal crap ass bitch motherfuckers (aka accountants, lawyers and bureaucrats, oh my), who make me question the value, quality, and intelligence of my career. Up fast or out faster? Oh goodie, I get a choice.
Then, questioning the rhyme and reason of relationships and marriage. My 5-year relationship with my boyfriend through college and law school ended months ago since we've been far apart, uncommunicative, and underappreciative in the last couple of years. I had been doing the dating thing with the scum of the earth who want to fuck me and the sweet guys who are looking for someone else, but my ego's too bashed and I'm tired of the dance. I'm informed by my emotionally distant and verbally abusive mother that after 32 years of "marriage," my emotionally distant and physically abusive father will be living in another country with a former girlfriend, never due to return, and will be leaving in a few days (oh, and can you bring him to the airport?). Attending the third of five weddings I've been invited to this year, and being asked incessantly when "my time will be" to marry and spawn like a proper girl. Being pointed out repeatedly that I will have loads of trouble "hooking" a man as I am too independent, don't play games, and it's not my time anyway since I haven't been alone long enough and maybe I'll get someone the second time around, after he'll settle. Oye, as if that will be the solution to all my problems.
And, obviously, there's a lot going on in the world that I have no control over, like bombings, deaths, and political maneuverings that just sicken me. Sure we can bitch and bitch all day long about President Bush's policies and America's economy, but I absolutely hate how the deaths of people hinge on what information is leaked out or what action is taken in pursuit of reelection. Why does it have to work this way?
So, you see, helpless. Downward spiral of ick. Please someone point out to me something good.
Seriously, you wonder what's up with the g? Only enough to bring a happy idealistic girl down and make her feel like the helpless lump she is.
There's insane work and travel schedule with goddamn negative anal crap ass bitch motherfuckers (aka accountants, lawyers and bureaucrats, oh my), who make me question the value, quality, and intelligence of my career. Up fast or out faster? Oh goodie, I get a choice.
Then, questioning the rhyme and reason of relationships and marriage. My 5-year relationship with my boyfriend through college and law school ended months ago since we've been far apart, uncommunicative, and underappreciative in the last couple of years. I had been doing the dating thing with the scum of the earth who want to fuck me and the sweet guys who are looking for someone else, but my ego's too bashed and I'm tired of the dance. I'm informed by my emotionally distant and verbally abusive mother that after 32 years of "marriage," my emotionally distant and physically abusive father will be living in another country with a former girlfriend, never due to return, and will be leaving in a few days (oh, and can you bring him to the airport?). Attending the third of five weddings I've been invited to this year, and being asked incessantly when "my time will be" to marry and spawn like a proper girl. Being pointed out repeatedly that I will have loads of trouble "hooking" a man as I am too independent, don't play games, and it's not my time anyway since I haven't been alone long enough and maybe I'll get someone the second time around, after he'll settle. Oye, as if that will be the solution to all my problems.
And, obviously, there's a lot going on in the world that I have no control over, like bombings, deaths, and political maneuverings that just sicken me. Sure we can bitch and bitch all day long about President Bush's policies and America's economy, but I absolutely hate how the deaths of people hinge on what information is leaked out or what action is taken in pursuit of reelection. Why does it have to work this way?
So, you see, helpless. Downward spiral of ick. Please someone point out to me something good.
4.22.2004
Haven't had time or motivation to blog, but have new appreciation for life and friends, as my family and work are just fucked up.
P.S. Atlanta needs an enema. Y'all need to loosen up. For a city renowned for its southern sweetness, the reality is it has been flooded (or dam(n)ed, haha!) with northern and western anality. But it seems that the writers are fooled....Atlanta ranked as #7?? Norfolk a great town for singles?? umm more like a great town for bars, sailors, and underage (or overage) delinqency...hell, it's #17? Dayton, Ohio is even on the top 50 list? Have the writers even been to these places? Nope. The computer generated list is derived from "sources" and added a value for "untangibles." Seems sketchy to me.
P.S. Atlanta needs an enema. Y'all need to loosen up. For a city renowned for its southern sweetness, the reality is it has been flooded (or dam(n)ed, haha!) with northern and western anality. But it seems that the writers are fooled....Atlanta ranked as #7?? Norfolk a great town for singles?? umm more like a great town for bars, sailors, and underage (or overage) delinqency...hell, it's #17? Dayton, Ohio is even on the top 50 list? Have the writers even been to these places? Nope. The computer generated list is derived from "sources" and added a value for "untangibles." Seems sketchy to me.
4.16.2004
Nothing like renewing a TS clearance to make you hunt down those old friends that you've haven't seen in a while.
One in particular that I've been thinking about--Jon (the original "my Jon") used to be my #1 contact (besides munkeigh and heathen) as I've known him since junior high and we usually keep up on what each other is doing, but I noticed that I haven't spoken to him in about two years. Usually, Jon and I got together at least 4 times a year, even when he lived 8 hours away, just to snuggle up on the couch and talk about nothing....yeah, his girlfriends really didn't like me much. Anyway, we had good timing and always seemed to have the urge to see each other at the same time, but then I moved, changed my phone numbers and email at the same time he moved into a new apartment and we've since lost touch. But about a week ago, I had a vivid dream about needing me to jump out of a plane with him because he could trust me. Weird. I think he's finally getting married to his girlfriend and he's trying to track me down so that I can go to the wedding. Sigh, I miss him. Time for the last resort--calling up his dad (aka Ned Flanders--yes he answers the phone with a hi-di-ho!) to find out where he is.
One in particular that I've been thinking about--Jon (the original "my Jon") used to be my #1 contact (besides munkeigh and heathen) as I've known him since junior high and we usually keep up on what each other is doing, but I noticed that I haven't spoken to him in about two years. Usually, Jon and I got together at least 4 times a year, even when he lived 8 hours away, just to snuggle up on the couch and talk about nothing....yeah, his girlfriends really didn't like me much. Anyway, we had good timing and always seemed to have the urge to see each other at the same time, but then I moved, changed my phone numbers and email at the same time he moved into a new apartment and we've since lost touch. But about a week ago, I had a vivid dream about needing me to jump out of a plane with him because he could trust me. Weird. I think he's finally getting married to his girlfriend and he's trying to track me down so that I can go to the wedding. Sigh, I miss him. Time for the last resort--calling up his dad (aka Ned Flanders--yes he answers the phone with a hi-di-ho!) to find out where he is.
4.15.2004
I hate that others' stress rubs off onto me so easily. Want to be the nothing's-gonna-change-my-world girl, but realize that usually comes with being blissfully ignorant. So instead, I am completely frazzled by the large pile of:
--multiplying assignments, multiple bosses, quick deadlines, high expectations, promotion competition, and no time
--stupid co-dependent co-workers
--next week's travel to rude southern town to be Pinky to the Brain who is also highly stressed and possibly mourning his eye from the Oklahoma City bombing (team decided I'd be least likely to piss him off, as he understands my jokes of rubber pants our size and burlap chaffing, yay)
--the possibility of colorblindness since constantly disagree with everyone on what color everything is
--upcoming weddings galore and harsh reminders from not-so-nice people of oldness, singleness, and non-reproductiveness (didn't think too much of it, but now that you reminded me, argh!)
--realizing how annoying I am when I am annoyed by everything, but fighting anti-social tendencies to say fuck it all and buy large new TV
Sigh. I'm not really that bad. Tomorrow I will probably be all happy again when everyone is on leave and I will always have caffeine, sugar, and long drives. But for now, I will decide on the candy dish, flatware, table linens, and/or fondue pot for yet another wedding. And I will refrain from pegging the next person who walks into my office with my stress-relief ball. (Hee hee!)
--multiplying assignments, multiple bosses, quick deadlines, high expectations, promotion competition, and no time
--stupid co-dependent co-workers
--next week's travel to rude southern town to be Pinky to the Brain who is also highly stressed and possibly mourning his eye from the Oklahoma City bombing (team decided I'd be least likely to piss him off, as he understands my jokes of rubber pants our size and burlap chaffing, yay)
--the possibility of colorblindness since constantly disagree with everyone on what color everything is
--upcoming weddings galore and harsh reminders from not-so-nice people of oldness, singleness, and non-reproductiveness (didn't think too much of it, but now that you reminded me, argh!)
--realizing how annoying I am when I am annoyed by everything, but fighting anti-social tendencies to say fuck it all and buy large new TV
Sigh. I'm not really that bad. Tomorrow I will probably be all happy again when everyone is on leave and I will always have caffeine, sugar, and long drives. But for now, I will decide on the candy dish, flatware, table linens, and/or fondue pot for yet another wedding. And I will refrain from pegging the next person who walks into my office with my stress-relief ball. (Hee hee!)
4.14.2004
The trees are out to get me.
If they aren't, they should...for all their brethren that have and will fall to fulfill my job. My save-the-earth guilt and flashbacks of canvassing for the Alaskan wildlife are haunting me. Why is it that we've moved into a computerized, electronic environment and here I am printing out copies in sextuplet so that all the bosses can read every change I've made and keep an extra copy (for the file)? Bureaucratic paper trail, my ass! Your monitor is there for a reason people: it provides, for your viewing pleasure, a exact duplicate of what is printed on these ba-jillion pages.
But maybe they already are after us...they are exacting their revenge in the forms of suicidal terrorism hidden by natural disasters (falling trees on houses, forest fires) and pollen (which leads to allergies, medication, immunity, addiction, market competition, greediness, black market trade, outsourcing, dehumanization, and complete annihilation of the world!) Oh, the horror!*
*Disclaimer: No trees were harmed in the making of this tirade. The above statement is completely fabricated and if any resemblance to real tirades exists, it is purely accidental. The producers of this blog do not endorse the views of this tirade and any feelings hurt forthwith shall not be their liability. No one endorses the accuracy, completeness, or reliability of any advice, opinion, statement, or other information displayed, uploaded, or attributed to this tirade. Any reliance upon it shall be at the reader's risk.
Hee, hee, I guess law school's worth something after all. The ability to talk out of one's ass is essential to life, liberty, and the pursuit of complete and utter bull.
If they aren't, they should...for all their brethren that have and will fall to fulfill my job. My save-the-earth guilt and flashbacks of canvassing for the Alaskan wildlife are haunting me. Why is it that we've moved into a computerized, electronic environment and here I am printing out copies in sextuplet so that all the bosses can read every change I've made and keep an extra copy (for the file)? Bureaucratic paper trail, my ass! Your monitor is there for a reason people: it provides, for your viewing pleasure, a exact duplicate of what is printed on these ba-jillion pages.
But maybe they already are after us...they are exacting their revenge in the forms of suicidal terrorism hidden by natural disasters (falling trees on houses, forest fires) and pollen (which leads to allergies, medication, immunity, addiction, market competition, greediness, black market trade, outsourcing, dehumanization, and complete annihilation of the world!) Oh, the horror!*
*Disclaimer: No trees were harmed in the making of this tirade. The above statement is completely fabricated and if any resemblance to real tirades exists, it is purely accidental. The producers of this blog do not endorse the views of this tirade and any feelings hurt forthwith shall not be their liability. No one endorses the accuracy, completeness, or reliability of any advice, opinion, statement, or other information displayed, uploaded, or attributed to this tirade. Any reliance upon it shall be at the reader's risk.
Hee, hee, I guess law school's worth something after all. The ability to talk out of one's ass is essential to life, liberty, and the pursuit of complete and utter bull.
4.12.2004
My nose is way too sensitive for the gym. Maybe it's gotten too acclimated to the dry air conditioning of my office, but....ick.
Tonight was a nauseating bouquet of scents: To my right--musky cologne guy, to my left--highly perfumed guy (huh?), in front of me--haven't washed my ass in weeks girl, and last but not least, behind me--french fry guy.
As munkeigh has pointed out, it is a gym. And I agree, there should be some level of tolerance of sweaty smell.
But this is not pre-revolutionary France!! We do not cover up stench with perfume, nor do we believe bathing will kill us. Vive les bains!!
Tonight was a nauseating bouquet of scents: To my right--musky cologne guy, to my left--highly perfumed guy (huh?), in front of me--haven't washed my ass in weeks girl, and last but not least, behind me--french fry guy.
As munkeigh has pointed out, it is a gym. And I agree, there should be some level of tolerance of sweaty smell.
But this is not pre-revolutionary France!! We do not cover up stench with perfume, nor do we believe bathing will kill us. Vive les bains!!
4.11.2004
Wanted: A man who can boogie down.
Nothing is as shocking and amusing as watching a staid white boy teacher with a roguish smile get his boogie on. Need some more of that! Seriously, the Stu-pot (aka the original thug from P-town) rocks my...and so many of his groupies' ...world.
But enough gushing for the lot of us.
The real question is: why is it so hard to find a guy who can dance? Is it an embarassment thing? A genetically lacking rhythm thing? Or a I-don't-want-to-be-thought-of-as-a-dancing-queen thing? WELL, let me drop a hint for the gents, guys who are comfortable to get their groove on are hot. Yes, I said hot. I don't drop that word too much either. Women think of dancing as a complete indicator of action in bed. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
Nothing is as shocking and amusing as watching a staid white boy teacher with a roguish smile get his boogie on. Need some more of that! Seriously, the Stu-pot (aka the original thug from P-town) rocks my...and so many of his groupies' ...world.
But enough gushing for the lot of us.
The real question is: why is it so hard to find a guy who can dance? Is it an embarassment thing? A genetically lacking rhythm thing? Or a I-don't-want-to-be-thought-of-as-a-dancing-queen thing? WELL, let me drop a hint for the gents, guys who are comfortable to get their groove on are hot. Yes, I said hot. I don't drop that word too much either. Women think of dancing as a complete indicator of action in bed. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
4.09.2004
let's go away for a while, you and I, to a strange and distant land where they speak no word of truth, but we don't understand anyway...
sorry sorry sorry, senors. i never thought people actually read this trash--my lack of blogging has caused some minor ripples in the peanut gallery. i intended to pop back in glory complete with pretty pictures of SoCal, but instead was too lazy to upload them (special dedication to eL, i will email you the jimmy feet. yes. the jimmy feet.)
...and then another week passed as i was guilted into excessive hours of torturous bureaucratic hell (ah, government)...
anywho, i need to throw a party soon, have a major urge for a good shindig. must commemorate my 28th with something other than a memory of icky plane smell (although paco was waiting for me at home...ah paco).
and ms. r, please come senza big daddy, or i will sic the cats on his allergic ass. and please no sex on my sink.
sorry sorry sorry, senors. i never thought people actually read this trash--my lack of blogging has caused some minor ripples in the peanut gallery. i intended to pop back in glory complete with pretty pictures of SoCal, but instead was too lazy to upload them (special dedication to eL, i will email you the jimmy feet. yes. the jimmy feet.)
...and then another week passed as i was guilted into excessive hours of torturous bureaucratic hell (ah, government)...
anywho, i need to throw a party soon, have a major urge for a good shindig. must commemorate my 28th with something other than a memory of icky plane smell (although paco was waiting for me at home...ah paco).
and ms. r, please come senza big daddy, or i will sic the cats on his allergic ass. and please no sex on my sink.