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.

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!!

Happy Easter!!



Awwww, so cute, I'm disgusting myself!

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.

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.

As an avid fan of the discovery channel and a viewer of at least 4000 documentaries on the sex life of bugs, bats, and wildebeast....I've got to say, this is soo fucking cool. I am bedazzled by nature's wonders. Thank you RL for bringing the vampiric sexual practices of deep sea angler fishes to my attention.

Besides working way too many long hours recently, trying to "review" (aka screw over) the Army and Navy and find source documentation for the word "actual," I've been dreaming about my upcoming trip to San Diego and LA. Although I've managed to stay in post iron curtain Budapest for 2 weeks, in all my 27 years, I've never once visited either of these very awesome and overpopulated cities. The sibs will keep me on track with the tourist bits, and I'm looking forward to checking out the zoo (pandas, polar bears, and apes, oh my!!!), but any suggestions out there for other cool and/or hilarious fun?

If Munkeigh were with me, and not the conserva-twins, I would surely track down my strange little man and challenge him to a foosball game...

Another question that's been bothering me....

Is it wrong to assume that a guy who likes the music of Dido, Sarah McLachlan, AND Norah Jones is really a girl?

Well M, I refrained from making a snarky comment about previously mentioned total girlhood, but I couldn't just let it slide.

Thank you Mr. Coffee for never letting me ever again have a normal sleep schedule.

I remember how I used to like just the smell of coffee. With lots of sugar and cream it all became liquid hot ice cream coffee goodness. Then came the Irish coffee and the long nights hanging out at Meridian with Heathen, Special Sauce, Jim, and Ducky (I'm sorry..."Dave"...) writing really insipid poetry on the walls with black marker. And then, 10pm sugarspressos with the ultimate frisbee guys to keep up with the games and late night grocery shopping. Now the fun new coffee grinder, super toasty roast, and grande buonissima macchina pull at my insides to make a tasty few cups at midnight. Oye. Damn addictions.

Anywho, since I'm up, let me rant about something that's been bugging me like a repeated sharp jab in the eye. Someone please explain 311 to me. Why do they suck so much? Is it the stupid amber song? Is it the fucking joke of "reggae/funk/alternative/pop/rock/rap/metal" crap that they spout? Oh, no. Sure, they suck because of these reasons, but they didn't hit the earbleed level of suck until they 1) redid the Cure's Lovesong 2) with a bad imitation of a trippingly happy Robert Smith (this isn't Love Cats, people!) 3) sold it to the media moguls of "let's create a romantic movie with Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler AGAIN" and last but not least 4) convinced indiscriminate (aka deaf) radio listeners to request it because they just love that song. ARGH.

I know that covers are a dangerous thing...

- They could be exactly the same as the original--making them nostalgic or lame (It's My Life - No Doubt, Boys of Summer - The Ataris);
- They could be done in the style of the new band--making them refreshing or an afront (Hurt - Johnny Cash, Landslide - Dixie Chicks); or
- They could be mixed into another new song--making them a rap song (take your pick).
Your best bet is to choose one of the three styles and go full force. That's where 311 shows their suckage. They try to mold their pothead dippiness into the depressing earnestness of Smith's style, copying every inflection of the original vocals, but to a melting waxy bop that is full frontal 311 bad.

That's it, Tori version (purrfectly excellent) to the rescue, 15 times daily to wash out the ears, and to rediscover the meaning of good covers.

Tag game. My ass.

Mr. Cheese, or is it Tao do Queijo, I truly appreciate you even paying attention to this blog. As I don't want to turn away my loyal readers with my pet peeve of chain letters, forwards, and the like, I will play...my way.

Queijo Rei, eu etiquetei este blog. I've now passed on the funness of your game to the Portuguese world.

Just when I thought I was getting more serious....the highlight of my evening was to have my ass squeezed by a cute (albeit very drunk, possibly high, and spitting) art teacher. Oh yeah. Need new forms of entertainment.

So now, I've hit munkeigh heaven--radiohead blaring, ben affleck lusting. I say, goddamn.

so strange
woke up to a world
that I am not a part
except when I can play its stranger

Sometimes I wonder what happened to my insatiable interest in arguing all the ins and outs of current events and the philosophical repercussions. It used to be fun finding the truth, twisting around the logic, and formulating theories at 3am.

But I went down the wrong path---I went to law school. Now, as much as lawyers get stupid jokes thrown at them and most really are gross specimens of human, the law profession is not inherently terrible. It's supposed to be profound, defending the right, helping the helpless (great now I sound like Doyle)....but law school is completely different. If you revel in finding the truth, discussing and criticizing other viewpoints, law school is not your calling. However, if you love to tear up people's egos, feed off the blood of the weak, blow up your already oversized ego, and hear yourself talk loud and long....law school is the place for you. Lawyers are trained to be the scumsucking assholes they are through pure survival. Kinda like bootcamp for the mind and ego. They will break you down just to build you back up into the strong nasty lawyer you never thought you could be.

Law school is full of those like I was back then--argumentative, articulate, and passionate about all things that affect everyone. Then the competition and fear settles in, and all sense of fairness and agape are swallowed up by a cloud of compulsive cigarette smoke. Everything you say is wrong or maybe a little right, but basically wrong. The classmate you think is your friend will kick you to the curb to get into law review. Classes are vocal WWF matches where the biggest, loudest, and most annoying triumph. Getting a job for $100,000 is peanuts. How can you pay for that new H2 with that?

Luckily, some graduates can go on to be stronger, louder, and more sure that if they insist long enough, they will be right. They, after all, have picked up lots of great offensive and defensive ploys that speed them right through a layman's argument---such as pointing out "logical fallacies," biased sources of fact, and, inter alia, lots of supercilious application of obscure and archaic terminology. They've also picked up drinking habits and a complete disregard for anyone that doesn't benefit them. Others, like me, are still fighting the law school training, avoiding long drawn out debates and distracting ourselves with creative blissful ignorance. But basically unhappy because we once loved intelligent discussion, but like a beaten puppy, now flinch and dodge once it gets ugly.

Anyway, the point behind this tirade is that I was wondering where my passion for the world went. It got buried by a jaded point of view way too early. No wonder most good lawyers are old and the eye-gougingly annoying young whippersnappers are just that. And yet, I still feel very guilty that I haven't gotten my license and received the badge of super-jaded but rich. So, here's the plan:

--I will get that damn license. And then figure out if I want to become that hard-nosed DA I wanted to be and be really scary, or use my knowledge to help out those that can't help themselves (our president excluded), or continue as I am, happy that I finally got to beat that bitch down.
--REinterest myself in what's going on and fight the law school training to avoid arguments altogether or chew people out in fits of competitive righteousness.
--Ignore the guilt if none of this works.

You know it's sad when you have to end your night disregarding food for computer time. But I'm trying to catch up with my email, since I've been so freaking absentminded and writer's-blocked. Damn my job. I write reports all day and creativity just dries up when you have to figure out if the proper term is "appropriated" or "adjusted designated." So, my night is full--the kitties are locked in heated battle and I'm moaning along with Tori.

I snagged this off of Heathen's site--survey me this:

1.WHAT IS YOUR FULL NAME?
(as translated) Queen King Noisy Woman

2.CAN YOU SING WELL?
I'd like to think so, but I'm probably delusional. I do like to sing in the car, especially when others are looking at me funny.

3.WHERE IS YOUR FAVORITE SPOT ON YOUR BODY TO BE KISSED?
Nape of my neck. It makes me way too easy.

4.WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BREAKFAST FOOD?
Homemade sweet rolls--the ones with 4 kinds of sugar in them. Yum.

5. DO YOU EVER DANCE IN THE MIRROR NAKED?
Way too much fun not to. But hey, I could never control the boogie.

6.WHAT DO YOU WASH FIRST IN THE SHOWER?
My hair. The question is: which shampoo?

7.DO YOU FLOSS?
Nope.

8.DO YOU PLACE THE NAPKIN ON YOUR LAP WHEN YOU GO TO A RESTAURANT?
Yes. Must protect the napkin in the lap :)

9.DO YOU KISS ON A FIRST DATE?
Depends if I like him.

10.WOULD YOU HAVE SEX ON A FIRST DATE?
Usually not.

11.HAVE YOU EVER MADE THE FIRST MOVE?
Yes--men can be wusses.

12.HAVE YOU EVER DONE IT IN YOUR PARENTS BED?
Um, yes...

13.MICHAEL JACKSON OR MADONNA?
Argh, I have to choose? That's like asking me to choose between my children...wait we are talking about "worse" right?

14.IS YOUR BELLY BUTTON CLEAN?
Most of the time.

15.DO YOU EVER TALK TO YOUR ANIMALS LIKE THEY ARE A REAL PERSON?
If I talk to people like I talk to my cats, I'd live in a padded room.

16.WHAT WAS THE MOST ROMANTIC THING YOUVE EVER DONE FOR YOUR BOYFRIEND/GIRLFRIEND?
Took him out to dinner...in Venice. Then, we listened to the string orchestras in San Marco's square.

17. CAN YOU COUNT ON BOTH HANDS THE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE YOUVE SLEPT WITH?
Try one hand.

18. A LOT OF TONGUE OR LITTLE TONGUE?
Usually, lot of tongue = sloppy, so no. But when done right...

19. DO YOU LIKE YOUR FEET MASSAGED?
It's nice, but I'm ticklish.

20.DO YOU LIKE FOREPLAY OR JUST GET RIGHT TO IT?
Foreplay is always good, but not necessary. I mostly just like the sex.

21.HAVE YOU EVER FED A GIRL/GUY FRUIT DURING SEX?
Yes.

22.HAVE YOU EVER HOOKED UP WITH ANYONE ONLINE?
No. Yes. I forget.

23.LEO OR BRAD?
Who the hell is Leo? DiCrapio? Definitely Brad, then.

24.DO YOU READ OR WRITE POETRY?
Yes, both, but I still hold general scorn for most poetry, mine included.

25.WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SAID I LOVE YOU TO IN A ROMANTIC WAY..NOT INCLUDING AN ANIMAL OR FRIEND?
My ex-boyfriend G---.

26.SHOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH AN EX?
Usually, yes. As long as you don't want them dead that is.

27. DO YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF A NYMPHO?
No, but I think I think like one or at least like a man. It's entertaining when bored.

28.HEARTBROKEN OR BREAK HEARTS?
Both. Argh.

29.WOULD YOU LICK THE DIRTY GROUND IF SOMEONE ASKED U 2?
Ick no.

30.HEAVEN OR HELL?
According to who? Purgatory all the way.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!

For this great reason to be green, I am. At least for today.

There was a time, not so long ago, that an overabundance of happiness around me would have produced loads of self-doubt over my own happiness...

But fuck that...(umm, let me clarify for some of you and your dirrty selves--not "butt fuck"--"but, fuck")

Anywho, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by giggles from the peanut gallery:

I just love when people are in love. It's just so damn cute!

Maybe it's just the time of year or the time of my life, but tons of people are getting married--possibly 6 weddings I might be attending soon--and I'm truly happy for all of them. The idea of weddings was a funky thing for me, given that I've always hated their gagging insipidness--the dramas, high expense, bad music, and quick turnaround in feelings that seem to be the standard. Oh, jaded me. I blame it on what my generation has seen of love...think about it:

I was born in the 70s--the "porn" era--when disco, sappy a.m. radio love songs, sex with consequences, and polyester clothing were all about wanting sex (or at least looking like it). Bad start. What I learned--love is quick sex, sex is fun, and by having fun, you will die.

I was raised in the 80s--the "shiny consumerism" era--when spending was high, debt was a way of living, drugs were for the yuppies, and victorian collars and ill-fitting clothes were fashionable. Again, sex...but hidden behind money, propriety, and more materialistic trappings of love. Those who still dressed for the part were misfits and punks. What I learned--love is the appearance of happy, the expensive wedding, the shiny cars and big houses; sex is for the immoral and bad, Jason will kill you for having sex.

I was a teenager in the 90s--the "grungy down with the iron fist" era--when we believed everything sucked, but it was cool that it sucked so bad, and even the flannels we wore were sad. What I learned--love rips through you and leaves you the shell of a person, love is pain, so we might as well have sex, get drugged up, and die, since real love only hurts.

So far, in the 00s, I've just been plain confused. Sex is still fun but bad and shouldn't be had until there's love, but you need to look like you are getting paid for it. Love is still pain and celebrities profit off the image of it, but everyone should need it to live a good life. Now, I've accepted the confusion--I own the confusion--I will have sex when it'll be fun, fuck the morality issue, and when love comes to me, I will bask in it...and check for any hidden cameras.

Have cloistered self and successfully reevaluated life. Although I'm sad that most of my friends hadn't notice (but for my lovely munkeigh, thank you munkeigh), I'm going to be a happy camper from now on because I will have direction, motivation, and fun. Today is the start of my new life.

Sadly, my original commenting universe had to be trashed because the capitalist corporate agenda demanded my money. All I've got to say is, I ain't yo bitch.

OK, instead of physically retracting that last blog, I'm going to suck up the bitterness and take it back.

I will not resort to a hermetic life to avoid communicating my feeling to others. My bad for blaming him for all my issues with men. Will learn to have more pointed, logical arguments and less scary defensive haranguing.

It's so hard being more emotionally mature. I would so rock in high school right now. :)

Urgh, am sickened with myself and my bitchiness. It has only served to piss me off further since my time is being wasted as I write this. Will consider a monastic and bitter future.

I guess that bout of depression can never be truly diagnosed--it is spring time, 70 degrees outside, sunny, windy, and it's a Friday (officially the weekend in my mind). Whether it's the spring, the day, someone slipped me a happy pill without me knowing it, or Munkeigh is in a bad mood--I'm one happy girl today! Yay the world.

Anywho, lots of seduction plans in the midst recently - 2 of these have worked out so far for my friends. One though troubles me....How does one gracefully grab a guy into the house, pull down his pants, and give a blowjob, without scaring him away? Very difficult, for the slow and smooth kind of seductress, so this would have to be an M.O. shift.

Yay! I can even play Pathetique Sonata!


You are Schroeder!


Which Peanuts Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I had an epiphany sometime around 3am this morning--I am extremely tired of being taken for granted. As much as I spout my evil ways and how much I hate people and how they should all die a resoundingly painful and drawn-out death, I'm really a nice person and go out of my way to help out my friends. But I need to watch out for the ones that are manipulative without even thinking about it, the bastards.

Argh. My brain is stuck in a loop, and the theme song for the day is Toxic by Britney Spears. I cannot get this disgustingly awful piece of pop crap out of my mind!!! If this self-inflicted torture doesn't end soon, I will have to resort to physical means of stopping it--banging my head on my desk or powerdrilling a la Pi.

On a good note, my cold is clearing up and am getting lots of attention from a guy I...could...possibly...have a crush on. At the same time, I will not put much in it--he is, after all, a man, and like a magpie, is easily swayed by the shiny.

Finally went to the doctor today and got my requisite chewing-out because I was sick. As if I would come to the doctor if I were well. Anywho, got my meds, various bundles of allergy drugs, and an upcoming appointment for "bloodwork." Maybe I've watched too much Buffy and Angel, but this creeps me out. Entails a lot of splitting of parts, examining of counts and such. Oh, sickly sickly me.

Also....just in case you missed it before:



MARCH 23, 2004

Urgh, my head is about to explode. Damn my sinuses and damn useless decongestant. Well, this leads to my promise for Lent:

I will give up excuses.

Other people give up ice cream (too easy for me), sugar and coffee (way too hard for me), or just outright fast (oye, cranky cranky G). Nope, for me, true good will come once I stop procrastinating or judging and just do what I have to do, no excuses. This will cover many excruciating decisions and actions that I've been putting off, such as:

--going to the gym more often
--going to the doctor when I am sick
--eating properly because it would take more time
--looking up info on the Maryland bar exam
--keeping in touch with my emotionally distant and expensive relatives
--paying more attention to other fun things I could be doing because I'm too anxious about my decrepit love life

So far, so good. At least I've scheduled an appointment to get sinus medication. Hopefully, this will not lead into a downward spiral of drug reliance. (Hmmm, taking Tylenol PM repeatedly to get to sleep is a good thing! Maybe a little Scotch to make me more sleepy! Who needs a liver?)

ATTENTION ALL SCOOBIES!!!

My friend melanor is such a lucky girl. Oh, Giles.

A friend of a friend is the coolest non-but-very-potential friend one can have, so I just wanted to introduce the amazingly funny and insightful DJ Ross, a good reason for women to move to LA. :)

Another reason for castration and a wish to inflict pain equivalent to pain inflicted....this ass has a better chance at finding someone decent than most women in general. Not to mention that he has someone more than decent now and he is still blogging about this girl.

Are men just clueless or are they truly sadistic? I am so tired of being the psychological doormat for guys who are infatuated with women that are not me. Will fight hormones with solitude, as men suck and the ones that don't only want women that think they suck.

Two years worth of solitude doesn't sound so long.

Yay! Had fun at party regardless of nasty rough rednecks in 80s gear. Got to hang out with friends, introduce my coastie friend to Munkeigh, got to play lots of pool (miss that pool table), and found peace with the midget. I'm really starting to like my circle of friends, and am amazed that forced socialness works.

Hmmm, so many things to do today and only want to lie in bed, snuggling with a sleepy man. Sigh. But must:

-Buy cat food. Above all, must not starve the babies.
-Buy wedding shower present...what starts with a Z? Ooo, bedsheets!
-Attend wedding shower of coworker with other co-workers....not too enjoyable, but OK, must do the part.
-Attend mardi gras party that may either be wonderfully fun, or lame a la Hero Clix. God, please make them keep the Hero Clix under wraps.

Am very tired and need to reprioritize life--will try that sleeping, eating, and exercising thing. Yeah, that. Also need to revisit meaning of life, but that is another blog altogether. :)

Sadly, this revelation is not due to the need to be alert for 8am meeting, but to be alert for dramatic events at llama's party tonight. Am expecting much mischief and sexual tension between midget and his seductive mistress. He he, can't wait.

Is my Blog HOT or NOT?

Pheromone withdrawal is a bitch.

I've decided that I'm a druggie--I suspend my life and sneak around just for the yummy, sweet scent of certain guys. I actually get a fun little high and lots of distancing from real life issues. And when I leave that safe haven, I'm all cranky and out of sorts, planning for the next buzz. Damn my animal lusting. Argh.

Luckily, I have my ever-good panacea--Weezer (Happy 12th! Yay!!)

Happy Valentine's Day!

As cynical as I am, I still love Valentine's Day. The thought of it at least. The merchandising...not so much. Although I am glad to say that I was very surprised and happy to receive roses from...*drum roll*....my brother. He forgets the big holidays, and I haven't received a real present for my birthday or Christmas for a couple years now, but he remembered that my boyfriend of 5 years is no longer, and so it was sweet of him to send me something. Yay for big brothers!

So far, the day is going well:

1) I received a drunk dialing last night from a guy friend at 2:30am and then an apologetic voice message this morning. Sadly, I was flattered and am going to give him chocolate.
2) My friends' social lives are becoming very active, although it seems they get what they want and don't want it any more. Hmm.
3) Have forgiven and forgotten Munkeigh's unintentionally pointed comments (i.e. the man for me that I will never meet and the gloating over my lack of social life). Have accepted sad state. *sigh*
4) My dad came home from his trip to the Philippines with loads of yummy food. Love the yummy pastries.
5) Have plans to go to the gym for some long-needed working out--after I digest the yummy pastries.
6) Guaranteed long weekend promotes further plans of partying hard.

Life is good.

Don't know if it's the spreadsheeting, the subject matter, the boredom, the lack of coffee, or the coffee dependency that is breaking my brain cells down. *pop* *implode* Will no longer think of taking money away from the army, as in general the troops need money, but just the areas of unjustified overspending---hello unnecessary tech spending!! Yes. Will cut the tech spending. *maniacal laughter*

Anywho, primaries are today! I wonder how Virginia will fare, given that unlike many states all registered voters can vote...how many Republicans will come out to skew the vote? I've always wondered if the order of the primaries also has a strong effect on votes....it seems to me that if we started the primaries in South Carolina, instead of Iowa, that maybe Kerry wouldn't be the front-runner.

On another note...Peanut Butter and Jelly, two conjoined African leopard tortoises, have parted ways due to irreconcilable differences and control issues, i.e. their flipping over needed to be monitored for fair walking time. They could not be contacted for comment.

"Hello, my name is Ringo, and I play the drums..."

Am thoroughly enjoying my night, regardless of the effortless loserness of it all.

I just had bacon for the first time in about a year (my annual craving has broken through the nasty fatty ick barrier), I'm finally getting somewhere with my database that Brain has assigned (oh, but burlap chafes me so), and my ass is warm from the recently purchased space heater.

AND it's nice and happy from the excessive booty shaking that accompanies this year's Grammys. The best Grammys in years, I think. I completely rocked out to the White Stripes (I say it again...damn Jack White and his broken finger!!! I could have experienced that live!!!), Sting/Vince/Pharrell/Dave as the Beatles, Alicia Keys, and Senor Sandoval, so far.

Urgh, mood almost submerged by Yoko Ono insipidness. Will not let the little alien bother me.

Finally! Acknowledgement!


Which Buff Girl Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty

I am no Anya.

Eh, what can I say? Am very glad that considerate guy is truly considerate:

"I have to be honest with you and tell you there's someone I've seen a couple times, and I don't want to/am not able to juggle girls. I hope at this point you're saying to yourself, "Well, someone has a high opinion of himself...I thought we were just friends." If you're not saying that, and you feel like I mislead you, I'm sorry. I had a great time on Sunday. You're a blast to hang around and I hope we can see each again...just not in "that" way. I really hope I'm just making an ass of myself and we'll laugh about how stupid I was "letting you down" from nothing at all. So, are we cool? I hope so. You're fun to be around and I'd like to keep you as a friend."

Well, I can't complain...he was nice and I didn't fall in love at first sight or anything, I'm not "let down" in any way. I'm glad to be widening my friend circle (especially in my disgusting bar hopping town) and he seems to be one worth keeping.

Can't help it....

I absolutely love Law & Order!

As all my friends know, and maybe a few people who got in the line of fire, I don't much like lawyers. My law school experience was tiring and painful, as I was trying to bend my mind into the pompous, righteous, inflexible, and yet hypocritical ways of the world. I can't stand to watch most cop or lawyer shows, because they tend to be overly dramatic and full of black & white, right & wrong dichotomies. Personally, I like the blur of good & bad and a nice fuzzy graduating gray. That is why Law & Order is different...even though the show's template is almost always the same (murder/death in first 3 minutes, cops interrogating double faced victims/witnesses, and the lawyers preaching while working around the cops' procedural mistakes), the characters are realistic, the proceedings amazingly accurate, and the outcomes are always unsure until the very end.

Oh, and very very happy that considerate man called and wrote when he said he would. However, man is weird, even weirder than me (or maybe he's so normal, it's weird). Am I jaded or cautious?

Nothing meaningful today....have been in inexplicable good mood, and I can't get out of my boogie shoes. Right now, can't stop bopping to Offspring's newest, although it reminds me of a video game from the Eighties. Yesterday, it was Outkast. My cats are mewing at me, confused at my odd behavior (much like when I do yoga in the living room).

Ah, have cleansed self of sketchiness emanating from Pennywise concert. Not that that concert wasn't great--loved it, rocked out lots, and steered clear of nearly naked drunken fans and their scary BO. However, as we live, drama ensues...Mrs. R, ever in hope of finding a blip in her Red Fox radar, suddenly found herself in full sight of him, and clawed me repeatedly in anxious irrepressible excitement. Had to use bad tone to stop damage to my arm. Am really sorry, Mrs. R! For the rest of the night, pointedly ignored oompa loompa, while he steadily crept nearer to Mrs. R and Munkeigh, until Mrs. R could barely contain her single person mosh pit. Note: Red Fox is oblivious to drama, or is ignoring it. Sad, this drama over midget neanderthal, but hey, I once was bothered and bewildered (although not quite to this extent).

On a good note, was very happy to attract strange silent man in red that somehow made me feel safe from young punk ickiness (or maybe he felt safe with my crowd, hmmm, wish I had said something to him, though he was probably an infant). Also have ridden myself temporarily of violent urges with loud screaming angry youths.

Sadly, night ended with 2 sketchy events: (1) a Goldschlager-laced drink being dumped on me by aforementioned naked drunks right at the end of the concert and (2) my typical ability to draw in the ghetto drunkenness. Mr. Ghetto lacked gold teeth, but was leaning too near and too intently slurring that I was "hot" that I wondered if I had "skank ho" written across my butt. Did not know that my butt was that articulate. Need to have strong talk with butt and curb wrong messages sent out.

The moon is not full, it is but slightly waxing....am not a werewolf as originally thought.

And I have no explanation for my violent thoughts. I've been very tense today, a bit irritable and my mind keeps running off on tangents usually consisting of me being confronted by little shrew of a skank ho, and me kicking the crap out of her like a uncontrolled beast. Knocking down, stomping, chomping off bits of her nasty nose, and finishing with a good grabbing of her limp hair and spinning her around, launching her like a sack of rice into a nearby wall.

Sigh, I'm normally not this violent, but sometimes I get overwhelmed with people and their suckage, even though I can't pinpoint the direct cause. However, my pent-up rage is one reason girlies need to stop waving their fingers in front of people's faces. One day, they might just get a trouncing.

Ah, weekends are for catching up on sleep and sanity. After this hectic week and the knowledge of another week of the same coming up, I will now eat, veg, and watch the extended version of Two Towers. Maybe I'll catch another nap. Maybe I'll dream of blue sweatshirt guy again while I wander the aisles of Target aimlessly. I love life.

And now, some deep thoughts on relationships and jealousy (and his ex-wife) with T.G.:

"It starts off small and before you know it you don't have any friends and you are with someone who will never have enough of your attention to be satisfied."

Not that I'm completely anti-French like your regular idiot American who eats freedom fries...but this is pretty amusing.

The concise military history of France.

I appears I have a stalker...her name is Guido. I've only caught a glimpse, but I can sense the greasy and gold teethy aura. Feel famous a la Kevin Bacon.

Evil claimed does not evil make.

There are people who are wrongly and flippantly aligning themselves with evil. I would like to remind those insolent peons that they know not the troubles they bring upon themselves. Remember your master, bitches.

P.S. Aww, my kitty Giles is asleep after reassuring himself that I will not be leaving him. That's the problem with diabolical doings...no time for the kids.

Have unending joy in spreading of gratuitous violence in the world....or at least thoughts of it.

Newest episode from the high school suckage files:
In response to stupid confrontational tardy student--option #4. "Bitch!" (Beat with Chair) "Whore!" (Beat with Podium) "Retard!" (Beat with kid to whom she said "I can't believe she has the nerve to tell me I'm tardy) "Crap Ass Mother Fucker" (Slam her into the ground and kick kick kick kick kick!) I look around at the other students, who are quiet and staring, confused and concerned. I smile an evil smile."


What can I do but laugh maniacally. Bwahahahhaha!

Argh. When does the world suddenly flip and the parents are dependent upon the children? My dad has to suddenly leave for another country to be at a sick relative's deathbed, and I'm worrying more about him getting stuck or lost at a stopover, missing his plane, than relative's death or dad's possible malaria infection from 3rd world nation. Simple instructions are lost on the man. Next thing I know, I'll get a call from the Hartfield International Security that my father was arrested for assaulting a luggage checker, since they were going to hold him for bringing a loaded gun into an airport. I can't wait until I'm the inflexible old coot everyone has to cater to.

Goddamn it! Hormonal again and sending out magnetic pulses, it seems. Yellow lights galore and I almost set my cat on fire with the static spark that shot from my hand to his fur (I did spark his nose and he sneezed and looked sorrowfully at me). Well, might as well feed the fire:


DING DONG!!

I have tried too long to withhold evil thoughts and schemes...

After munkeigh's most recent blog, I realized that I have to accept my natural state of mayhem. I am evil. In addition, I want to be the best that I could be, so I want to be very very evil. But I was reminded to limit myself to that, since extremely evil me is "terrifying." Will not be proud of capability to inspire terror.

On a different note....YAY!!! My boys are back!



New album, new DVD, and revamped Blue! Oh, how can I control my excitement?!

Proof that blogging and bitchiness are not rocket science...welcome, blogger police! As the Hungarians would say, "Hagy segg'odik!"

Secret asian "sex machine" must have put the gun to her head, as we generally don't give a damn.

Oh, my ADD is really overwhelming today. Especially since I found on-line bubble wrap. Heeheeheehee....must have more!

My cephal is all spongy.....is it mad cow or excessive e-training? Hmmm.

After reading Mellie Bean's comment, I had an epiphany...my criteria should just be:

#1 He is not a son of a bitch.

That should be sufficient. :)

I wanted to see if I was overly picky in the men that I consider acceptable to date. So, in descending order:

My Criteria for a Good Man

#1 He is not currently married.
#2 He likes me.
#3 He is nice, considerate, and loyal.
#4 He is intelligent (not necessarily bookish, but can carry on a conversation).
#5 He is clean (as in not unbearably smelly and doesn't live in squalor).
#6 He is not a social pariah, criminal, drug user and/or alcoholic.
#7 He is approved by my friends and does not hate my friends.
#8 He is not scared to meet my family.
#9 He lives within 60 miles of me.
#10 He has a good job or is currently in search of one or has prospects in the near future for one.

Absolute write offs (aka Hell no!):
He must not have one or more gold teeth.
He must not call them "teef".


**Notice that I didn't list anything about looks, dress, height, and age. To me, they are not real factors in a relationship. The list is not that long, but you'd be surprised how few men pass all 10 (especially #2 and #3). In the end, I don't think I'm very picky, I just have very little to choose from. :)

I haven't felt bloggish in a while, but now that I can't speak (damned sore throat), I need to communicate from the isolation of my frigid house. For a bad night (Friday I think) I was filled with hatred that men can be all friendly and sweet and then disappear as if they never existed. I was bitter that Doc Wesley had stopped calling and writing so suddenly. He seemed genuinely nice, considerate, and we had fun together. Then, nothing. I guess he got tired of me, since I can't for the life of me figure out what I did wrong. I loathed men for their cowardice, asshole-ish ways, and general inability to treat women properly.

Later that night, I got a call from the coastie who I had written off from the start as a sweet, kinda immature meathead. He and I have an accepting sort of friendship--we're not scared of looking bad and psycho in front of each other, talk about anything and everything. He was calling all the way from Puerto Rico and, in one hour, reversed my previous nasty perception of men. I still think most men are scared little boys when it comes to confrontation and truth, but at least I have hope that there are nice communicative men out there who care, although they might not be that obvious from the start.

Have just discovered that I'm a hypochondriac. Damn WebMD. After coughing and whining for the last few days, I decided to check out some non-drug treatments on the internet and opened the gates to my doom. It all started so innocently. Two hours later, I had checked myself for the symptoms of asthma, pneumonia, flu, whooping cough, strep throat, migraine headaches, diabetes, ADHD, depression, bipolarity, schizophrenia, and autism. All the quizzes showed that I didn't have any of these diseases/disorders, although that may surprise many who read this blog. As with most psychological and medical diagnoses, the symptoms have to occur over a certain extended period of time. My question is: could there be a the possibility of having multiple disorders which have symptoms that occur, but get cancelled out over time? For example, can one be bipolar and have all the crazy upswings and deep lows, but be also ADHD or schizophrenic, which causes symptoms to fluctuate quickly so that they never last long enough for an official diagnosis? Hmmm.

And like always, I waste time pondering the ways of the world for naught. It is midnight, and I am still coughing.

Went on a date last night with Wesley lookalike crunchy granola pediatrician. Although the movie completely sucked, we laughed madly over bad acting and awkward elderly banter. *sigh* I will cross my fingers and pray to the gods that this one will be good.

Blogger police
Arrest this girl
She needs a bath
Controls like a freak
She needs another prozac

Blogger police
Arrest this girl
Her hitler attitude
Is making us feel ill
Why did she crash our party

This is what you get
When you mess with us....

Blogger police
Forget censoring
It's not enough...
It's not a democracy
But it's my blog, god damn iiiiitttttt

FUCK THE PO-LICE!!!

For a minute there, I lost myself.....

Sad to be back at the office after week long vacation....but proud to bear emblem of scariness at workplace. Am real supervisor, and underlings (aka former supervisors) are scampering away. Will not wallow in power.

Also in high spirits because figured out elusive Merman piano part late last night. Now only need to write out in proper form.

Am sad to also point out that two uglies do not a beautiful baby make. I need to find a diplomatic way to drop the hint that certain acquaintances should not breed. Maybe point out that there is no dearth of orphaned babies or reintroduce global warming and Malthusian arguments. As much as I try not to be judgmental, it's amazing how "love" blinds.

Rest assured my friends, I am not talking about you.

Munkeigh's blog on the abortion debate is excellent and a necessary read. She wrote a very well-thought out and moving argument.

My biggest problem with law is the lawyer/judge/legislators' need to rationalize and justify everything, but only within the scope of precedence and current societal standards. Mostly, these spirit of the law arguments are based on the righteousness or power struggles between religious or political groups. I know that's how many people believe life should be led. They should try at least once to think of these matters outside of religion and politics.

Who is really concerned with the act of abortion? It is someone 50 steps removed from the process trying to tell others what they should be doing or is it someone whose life is a hard enough for her to consider hurting an integral part of herself? Regardless of the "alternatives" to abortion, women still have to live through the discomfort and shame of 9 months of pregnancy knowing they will not keep the growing baby they are desperately trying not to bond with. Let's not forget the pain and possibility of death during childbirth. Most likely without the emotional or monetary support of the father of their child or their family. What do men have here at risk?

For those conservatives out there who wish to shrink and deregulate the government based on the opinion that people should be making their own decisions not the repressive government, why are these the same conservatives who insist on making decisions for society as a whole?

I just remembered a suppressed mini-dream I had last night....I was walking along the lamplit streets of old London and all of a sudden noticed that they were not lamps, but tall evergreens encircled by humongous bubble lights. As I walked past strangers, I saw their faces staring at me, aglow in light of the foot-long monstrosities. Very upsetting.

OK, I figured out my RESOLUTIONS FOR 2004:

--First and foremost...I will eat better and exercise more regularly. After this last week of gasp- and cough-inducing plague, I think that health is very very important.
--I will read more non-fiction books. I will no longer subconsciously avoid learning as a method to distant myself from law school pain.
--I will learn how to play the guitar.
--I will be more vigilant of what I express in my email messages. Spell check does not fix attitude and stupid jokes.
--I will try to be more social.
--I will curb my spending and debt. Must remember that retail therapy is evil.
--And last and hardest of all...I will try to be less angry and scary.

Happy, happy 2004!!

I still haven't come up with any viable resolutions, so I will put that off until later. Obviously, I've given up on procrastinating less.

Anywho, after last night's wild extravaganza with friends and one creepy guy (dolfinn's, that is), I have many views on the new year:

1. Must only party when healthy. Sickness sucks.
2. Pizza is pizza, no matter what order you put on the toppings.
3. Not all vegetarians like raw broccoli, especially on pizza.
4. My friends have a loose tie on reality and have control issues. I will not venture the downward spiral of megalomania.
5. Must avoid creepy men (surely, staring is symptom of greater issues).
6. Must not talk of sex in front of creepy men (intent staring is even creepier).
7. I need to expand my friends outside the "Buffy group."
8. Psychic cards are always fun.

I haven't decided if I am hormonal or a slut.

I will blame this mindless contemplation on my attempt to relax and extreme head congestion. A week off work, no worries, a little sniffle, and BOOM....issues galore. Last night, I indulged in a trashy, brain cell busting, and body image cracking read of Glamour magazine, and now I'm anguished over lack of sex. Actually had a long drawn out inner dialogue over possibility of sex with midget manwhore or other denizens of nastyassville. Now I'm thoroughly upset with my desperate lunatic urges.

Must find a good man and establish a bonafide relationship to justify crazy animal lust. Must remember dignity and disease.

Feeling congested and hazy
A long day suffering
Overstuffing
At parents' dusty knickknack filled house.

But I just wrote back to a nice pediatrician who sent me a picture of his cat. Have new outlook on dating scene.

Have been sucked into megalomania.....bwahahaha!

Once upon a time, there was a little queendom named Geeez.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

My Seattle trip:

Most people go to Seattle for all the cheesy tourist attractions, like the Space Needle, the Monorail, and the Pike Place Fish Market (the one where they throw the fish around). And I'm guilty of cheese too. Actually, the market was really cool, and I got to order a cafe latte in the original Starbucks there.

BUT the coolest thing ever was the Experience Music Project--the melting-smashed-guitars-a-la-Bilbao music museum. It's huge and had a special exhibition on punk and grunge scene in Seattle (lots of Kurt Cobain love, too much in fact). AND on the second floor was my favorite part--a sound lab that contained booths that taught you how to play and let you play around with acoustic guitars, electric guitars and basses, drum sets and keyboards, and let you record vocals. Oh, I so need an electric guitar and distortion pedals. The power chord root 6 is mine.

Oh, and another thing about homoeroticism in LOTR....I think I read somewhere that Tolkien based a lot of the horrific war/wasted countryside scenes on his experience in the World War (example: the Dead Marshes). Maybe the companions' uncomfortable closeness is Tolkien's take on male bonding during wartime.

My counter-blog on Munkeigh's review of Tolkien's LOTR: ROTK (geek code for "3rd and coolest eye candy epic sequel"):

First, this is not the bestest film ever created. This is not the pure embodiment of all things great in cinematic adaptation. I know this and I'm not arguing otherwise. But it's better than the first and second parts, and that's rare, especially in the movies (see Godfather III, that's all I need to say).

I want to write as someone who has read all the Ring books, including the appendices, the Hobbit, but not dorky enough to read the Silmarillion. The films and Peter Jackson have done an EXCELLENT job of adapting the book, putting enough detail and main plot lines to get the feel of the stories and the necessary closure. And Munkeigh's main problems with the movie were problems with the book and Tolkien's unoriginal, antifeminist plot.

The book was written in 1965, by an old British man. I suspect that he wasn't part of the emerging feminist movement. He probably revelled in the mod miniskirts of the time. The book is a glorification of war, destruction, good vs. evil, and all things manly. Therefore, there weren't many female characters, but I'd like to point out two good ones (1) Galadriel--a strong, powerful, and mysterious female character and (2) Eowyn--courageous, strong, and nurturing. As for Arwen, she's insipid, but far less than she was in the book.

I am not going to argue for Tolkien's grand originality. He wasn't original at all, but most writers are not. He did a good job of mixing the mythological creatures, their characteristics, and other such archetypes into a complex and exciting plot. And that's what makes his book broad-reaching and interesting...a basis in the familiar, but with a twist. Tolkien was not the imaginative genius some reviewers have put him to be, but they also think the Matrix plot is new and mind boggling. Bridget Jones was a huge hit too, even though it's practically a modern Pride and Prejudice, complete with Colin Firth. I don't think the normal moviegoer realized this either.

As for the Joss Whedon comparison...as if you can compare. Of course Joss comes out as more developed, but he wasn't out to write a straight good vs. evil story. He was intending from the start to question the lines of good and evil, unlike Tolkien.

Last bits:
1. Everyone wanted to control the mystic ring (feminine symbol), but they couldn't, they weren't strong enough. Ha.

2. Homoeroticism....lots of man/hobbit/elf/dwarf love. Shouldn't we be revelling in the acceptance of the "feminine" aspects of feeling, love, and caring into male characters? Why should we be uncomfortable?

3. By the way, Eowyn's complete tromping of the Wraith King is almost verbatim from the book. Her role was not exaggerated or forced into the plot. And I argue that her fight was not pointless. Sure, Thedon died, but by killing the Wraith King, she brought down the command line and chaos in the enemy ensued, bringing an end to the battle.

Off to cold wet Seattle (yay!!).

Itinerary:
Fly off at the crack of dawn.
Try to not get sick on the plane.
Buy tiny umbrella at O'Hare airport because I always forget something.
Land, check into hotel, and wait for the Special Sauce to arrive.
Tour like a mad fiend.
Shop and drink lots of coffee.
Feel all grungy and cool.
Fly back in time for day of skeeball with Munkeigh.

I cannot complain. My life is good.

This is what I get for my fear of needles combined with my love of singing along with my many Christmas CDs....a really sore throat. Damn flu season.

Ack. Hairball.

May I reiterate that I am thoroughly tired of the gross men. Just received an email from a nasty Marine. I think that normally Marines are cool and worthy of my respect, but not when one writes me a 100,000-word dissertation on how much he works out, how looks are what really matters, and how he loves dinner by candlelight and is NOT controlling AT ALL. Generally proving to me that he's making up for something and has ISSUES. Note to sad Sir: if you have to start every other paragraph with "are you still with me," I have already run far far away.

UGH!!! I need to bathe. I feel so dirty.

I really miss the celibate monks. At least they are considerate, intelligent, and clean.

Maybe on the edge of the great chasm of depression. Got Buffy Season 5 today and don't feel like watching it for fear of crying over deaths of imaginary TV characters. Can't wait until Season 6 when true depression will run rampant. Other possible reasons for listlessness:

Holidays.
General suckage of the human race, especially exposed during the holidays.
Self-loathing.
Discovery of someone scarily very much like me, but apprehension and embarrassment for the loserness of him.
Full moon.
Meat market of a dating scene.
Scads of gross men in uniform.
Pitiful desperate response to gross dating scene.
Hard work for naught (but for the highly coveted "meets expectations" designation).

“Just when I thought that I was out, they pull me back in.”

I have revisited almost-forgotten forces of anger and hatred. Am thoroughly "appauled" by the depths of human immorality and stupidity, especially since I had chosen to ignore the blatant scuminess. Will purge blog of any positive references to idiot midget subspecies. Will refrain from throwing nails onto his lawn in hopes of future rusty wounds. Will not fantasize of painful torture involving castration and guitar strings.

Will think positively that karma will set it all right. I just hope the f***** suffers.

I think I have ADD.

Let me explain....when I was thinking about all the work that I'm putting off until tomorrow morning because I am tired and don't care, my cat started howling while I was doing laundry--due to the noise from the machine, I guess. Distracted, I decided to blog. In pondering what I could blog about, I scratched my head, and looked down and saw a blue spot on my thigh. The spot from my pen, jabbed into my leg, desperately trying to stay awake during interviews with the Air Force. Hmm. Blue. Maybe I should apply for that litigation attorney vacancy--that can't be as boring. Damn, the bar. Oh well. I glanced up and saw myself surrounded by all the extraneous books, photo albums, file folders, and yearbooks that don't fit on my bookshelves. I need more bookshelves I think, while I yell at my cat for howling. And then I thought mmm, chocolate doughnuts, and tried to hold off from going downstairs and eating the cookies I baked yesterday. I scratched my hand absently and realized that I never put a bandaid on that finger that I cut earlier today.

Because I forgot.

Oh, and having recurring thoughts of jumping the pharmacy counter at my local Target to give my Asian pharmacist a hug just because he's so damn cute. How rare is that? A non-midget Asian? Oh, wait. Me.

Finally getting into the spirit of the season and making gifts lists, shopping, and putting up tree and decorations!! Just had to finish Thanksgiving first (considering most people don't). The only thing I'm really concerned about (other than lack of time and money, as always) is my psycho monkey cat using the tree as her diabolical launching pad to further terrorize my round bear cat. Nothing like coming home to an overturned Christmas tree.

As for the counseling I've been doing on the side, urgh. What draws these crazies to me??? Damn that psychology degree. Issues do not a man make.

I really need to prioritize: 1) Relax, 2) Friends, 3) Necessary work, 4) Counseling for men hooked on past girlfriends. Unfortunately, things have been a bit backward.

Oh, and I learned to shoot a gun today. Thanks, Todd.

Am hormonal and in desperate need of a vacation!! Maybe all the free Sims money and crazy house building has turned me to greed and the urge to sit in a white and purple egg chair, spinning for fun. *Sigh*

Ooof. I dreamt last night that I was trying to be shot repeatedly and kept out of gunfire by hiding behind an office chair. Lots of uncomfortable squatting and dodging. I don't know the true implications of this dream, given that I would probably be the shooter, not the shootee, but I did wake up with hopes of a new life. Breakfast in the morning that doesn't consist of Diet Coke and a multivitamin. Work without procrastination. Dealing with stressful situations with ease and nonchalance. Exercise at the gym that is ripping me off as we speak.

Instead, I drink too much coffee in the morning with that good breakfast, have too much to do and too little time to procrastinate, give myself a stress headache, and stuff myself with Thai food at lunch. But I still have plans for the gym, by god. They can't take that away from me.

Went to see Magic Flute and expected much repetition a la Mozart. Also expected mothball smelling older women with helmet hair. Instead, I was surprised to see *ding dong*. Luckily for Munkeigh, he ended up sitting beside me so she could appear to be talking to me while staring at his perfection. Sigh. Well, the repetitive arias went on for about eternity (virtue and love, virtue and love, virtue and love, lalala), and I was fighting the urge to sleep. But there could be no snoozing with *ding dong* on my right--I would have woken up in his lap. :)

I will not pull a R****. I will not take the easy path and go back when I should prevail with the shitty dating scene. At least my experiences have taught me to take this rejection less personally. God, I hate this.

But I have a plan, money and time willing--I will start taking Taekwondo classes in the nicer younger areas of my town. I always wanted to kick ass, I need motivation to exercise, and I will be following the Alaska theory of opportunities (more guys take martial arts classes, it's good to be the only female). Calculated? Yes, thanks to my more strategic and materialistic friends. Maybe this way, I'll avoid the sailors.

Men are b**** a** m-f*****s! Their lack of respect will be sent back to them with other various body parts.

My impassioned plea for the day:

VIVE LA REVOLUTION!!!

We will not bow down to the controlling fist of the dictators who endanger our lives, ignore our protests, declare lies to the masses, and steal our minds!!!

Down with DSM! Down with lemming administrators!! Down with ignorance!!!

All is well, my pumpkin was carved, I have lots of candy leftover (mmm, reese peanut butter cups!), and have camera phone in hand. Although I feel as if the past weekend sucked the life out of me, a lot of things have been clarified:

1) I am not lame. Drunk 25-year-old single guys ignoring girls bouncing on a trampoline to play Asshole and Hero Clix are lame.
2) Teachers drink A LOT. And they spit.
3) The Williamsburgian khaki cardboard has finally left my system. I will glorify regressed fashion of kilt and weezer shirt.
4) I have successfully learned how to disguise my dislike with a smile.
5) All Pauls are little f****.

Usually, I'm not the school spirited sort, more like the "f*** the administration" type--but it is homecoming and I will travel to visit the friends I still have from my hellish college years. Hellish but fun.

My good bud is having a Halloween party/other boring people get together and is going to be wearing her typical anglosaxon wench outfit. I decided to forgo the goth girl/gargoyle costume I've been sporting for the last few days and be the punk rocker I always wanted to be. Just lacking the electric guitar (and felt very tempted to call up someone so that I could borrow his. I held back of course.) Anywho, I put on the outfit this morning to test it out, and I feel remarkably comfortable in my kilt, weezer shirt, boots, and crazy studded jewelry. Now I just need my hair in anime pigtails and pink hairspray. Kinda look like a young Japanese weezer fan. Sick, sick, sick. But fun.

Also--decided to buy camera phone. Need camera phone!!!

At work, distressed over whole pumpkin. And the need for some kickin boots. When will I find time to devote to the important things in life??

This Halloween week, I've been so busy that my unmade jack o'lantern sits in my kitchen, unmolested and completely not scary. I had time last night, but not the energy to butcher the squash. Now, I have to rush my creation (bwa-ha-ha!!). Am completely unhappy.

Also, I figured out what I have been missing lately--a nice pair of boots to drop kick my funk (and a couple of idiots along the way). And, they would add that finishing touch to my angel of death outfit. Need boots now.

I've been having a lot of fits of hysterical laughter lately....

New one--you can get a whole set of gold teeth here.

HAHAHAHAHHA!!!

Cannot stop laughing about most recent email from sketchy man. As a joke, my friend wrote up a blunt and true match.com personal ad for me. Have gotten hits galore. This one being the best of the lot, from my admirer, also known as "striperjunkie":

Subject: hmmmmm!

thats a freaky write up girl!!!

rocky

As his profile says, it's all about the fishing.

OK, complete reversal of my bad habits at once is a big bite of difficult. So, I will continue to work on my impatience, anger, and anxiety, and will try to be more laid back, as I have been trying for years (as those of you can attest that I'm better than I used to be). I will sleep because that's not really too hard. I will try and get out more, which will help with the hermit-ness. However, I will postpone my efforts on ending my justifications in life (my psych degree just won't let me), catering to my obsessive nature, and hating people in general. It's good to have something to rely on in life, and I so rely on my compulsions and disappointment in people, it makes for more pleasant surprises.

I've decided that today will the start of a new life. I will no longer continue my Type A symptoms (impatience, anger, anxiety), cater to my obsessive nature, feed my depression through too much Sims (my Sims guy went up in flames, I mourned) and too little sleep, be the hermit I've been, try and discern patterns in life to make justification easier, and hate people in general. I will try to meet new people, attempt those things I've always wanted to do and stick with them, be more laid back, and be more communicative.

Oh, this is going to be hard.

It isn't easy being blue.

I have a co-worker from Kentucky (he's not blue), but he describes such strange sub-species of Kentuckians....it's like Lord of the Rings there. We're just waiting to hear about the dwarfs who have lived generations in the mines.

Am very glad that excessive Paulage is annoying. Dumb ass.

Had a strange dream last night of cleaning out fridge with my best friend, then going on a driveby and zoning out so badly that I ended up in Boston at 7am, gliding into downtown on fumes. While searching for a gas station that wasn't getting held up, I came across a group of guys, early 20s, skateboarding around this really complex dirt track they had built at a demolition site. Decided to forgo finding fuel and join the guys. Had the time of my life.

Hmm, my own obvious interpretation:

I absolutely hate cleaning out the fridge. It's a metaphor for opening up/fighting with my friend about my jealousies and paranoia. To escape this yucky experience, I go on my typical drive and end up in Boston--the place I always wish to go when I really want to get away. However, I realize that this is not practical and by the time I get there, my escapism urge and anger will have gone away. Now I'm stuck in scary repercussions for escaping instead of confronting my problems, I desperately try to find a way to get back on track with life. Instead, I get distracted by young punks and decide to just wing it and have fun. Hmmm, my mind is made up.

Any other interpretations?

Am very bitter about life. Watched Madame Butterfly and left the opera crushingly sad and internally bitching out Pinkerton as the crap ass motherfucker that he is. Saw him as the paradigm of the men in my life recently....self-centered and cowardly. Let's just let her figure it out herself...oh sad stupid girl for believing it will all work out in the end.

Will release anger through song....just finished "men...and their sales" and moving onward to "midget manwhores (the oompa loompa song)"

Yes, good plan.

Oh the rollercoaster of life....

I take that last blog back. My mourning period is not over, and the disrespect that midget manwhores give to me is less than appealing, but I can't stop obsessing!

I will no longer be fooled by little old man-boys. They are unworthy of my attention.

Blind date with idiotic midget. Things do not look good.