is there a nice way to say fuck off?

i think that the best way to deal with the aforementioned situation is to politely tell him to fuck off. i don't need head games. i don't need apologies. i don't need sympathy. i don't need this shit. i was doing him a favor by talking to him in the first place. and he turns around and shits on me? what the fuck? no deal, howie. go to hell.

the big one

i'm pissed. and granted, most of this is my fault. i have a knack for uncovering things that are often best left alone. but this time, this was innocent. i thought by allowing this person back into my life i was being the better person. i was showing my adult side. i was showing that i was able to reconcile the here and now with the then and gone and merge the two like a lost bag claim. what a fucking joke. where was this fucking emotion six years ago? i was tossed aside six years ago, i was told i was hated. i was lower than shit, i was nothing to him. and now, now, now, now he wants to let me know how much he fucking cared, cares, will forever care. well, you know what? fuck that. fuck you. i guess i didn't grow up. and i'm okay with that.

no more light blue shoes

you know who you are. tell me to not wear light blue shoes. you know they're super cute. that's what made you think of them. i actually had to say the phrase "super cute." what if i wear them when you're not there? what are you going to do? now that i've planted that seed, are you going to come in on your days off and make sure i'm wearing boring black shoes? no, i know you're not, but you'll know that i'll be thinking about it. so here's to you, mr. no-more-light-blue-shoes. that's fine. i won't wear them... hehehehehehe.... or will i?

happy bday, little bro

too bad for you i spent your birthday present money on myself. nah, i'll come up with something. i always do. :D

i'm supposed to be doing ebay listings and i can't get into it at all. i don't know where my mind is. i'm not tired. i slept until nearly noon and then took a nap this afternoon. irl races always put me to sleep, i don't even know where danica finished. cutie pie kasey kahne won the coca cola 600 and that's neat-o. i am so going to the front row challenge in aug to meet him. photos will be taken and blogged immediately after. i promise.

we went to the neighbor's house so earache could erect a swingset for the little one. when i was in grade school i used to love to swing. and then when i was in junior high and high school, that's where i'd go when i needed to think. i need a swingset in the backyard. it's more conduscive to my chi than ice cream in the freezer. better for my ass, too. :) probably cheaper than therapy. i think we can all tell i would benefit from some of that.

i need to go on a baseball break. first off, barry bonds is a cold-stone medicated bitch. he doesn't deserve any sort of record, fucking roided up junkie. it's obvious that the man has a problem, his neck is as big around as his thigh - that's not normal. second, what's up with this "fire dusty baker" thing going around chicago? are you people fucking nuts? baker is the best thing to happen in chicago in a long ass time. it doesn't help that derek lee has been out, dl, for five weeks. prior to lee's untimely vacation, the cubs were 9-5 and are 9-26 since. fire baker? let's just get lee healed and back where he belongs. you all just shut the hell up. and what's up with the yankees almost losing to kansas city? jd, where's the a game, man? notice, though that my main man, my all time favorite clinch pitcher kyle farnsworth saved the game. nicely done. i'd pat that ass in congratulations if offered the chance. yess....

tomorrow, we're going to watch some old fashioned farm ball in a highly commercialized stadium. i am wearing sunscreen because my forehead is peeling off my face and it's pretty freaking gross. it's going to be like 1000 degrees or something like that, so it's a great day for drinking beer and getting sloshed in public. show him some heat. phil hiatt. phil hiatt. i say phil you say hiatt. god, i love baseball. plus, i get to wear my farnsworth jersey, and that's always fun. the day i bought it, the guy was like, what the hell? you actually want a farnsworth jersey? he fucking sucks. aaah well. the heart wants what it wants. ♥ what can i say? actually, the tickets were bought under the idea that mark prior would be working on coming off the dl and making an appearance. not happening, but fun all the same.

there was no new sopranos tonight. i was bummed. next week is the season finale, and then sometime in the most likely not so near future, there will be like six or eight episodes that will tie up all the loose ends. all my shows are ending and then i will be bored. bored, i say. i'm bored right now. this ebay shit is boring. what else can i do? i'm off to find something to do.

yay me

i have awesome friends. completely awesome. that is such a great feeling. :D

don't fuck with my chi

you know when you get a new friend, someone you can really talk to and everything just seems to come out, intended to or not? i fucking hate when that happens. i hate giving people the upper hand. especially people in a position of power.

that fucks with my chi.

i'm not in kansas anymore

on my way home. nice to be going home, but what a mess awaits me. me thinks me life is in shambles, and i've really got no one else to blame but me. earache thinks i'm crazy. i finally got to talk to him today, really talk to him, first time in a long time. it's weird. something has happened, i'm not sure what. the way he said it, i don't like it. 'you ran off to hawaii by yourself and got a tattoo.' so i'm not very sneaky.

rob's coming to town next weekend, that should be fun. maybe he'll stay at the house and diffuse the situation. or as he would say, the fucking situation. once he senses the tension in the air, he'll take off, because he's an artist and it's not conduscive to his chi. i can hear it already.

seven hours and two minutes until dfw from the time we took off, and i don't know what that was because i'm not wearing my watch because it hurts to wear my watch. it hurts to wear my underwear. i just freaking hurt. i've screwed up my shoulder somehow and i thought i had tylenol pm and i don't and i'm pissed. there are worse things in life, i know, but i was really looking forward to a short-lived coma. ahh well.

the cutie from oz will be making an appearance in a few weeks. that'll be nice to look at while i'm doing nothing at mccroskey's, assuming i'm still employed at mccroskey's. mom told misty she doesn't think i'm in hawaii. she thinks i'm off whoring around somewhere, and i think she told eric that too. i think that's why he's been so weird lately. i think he's just a fuck lately. i think he sucks. i think i suck. so technically we should negate one another, but i don't think it works that way.

i don't know what show this is, with stockard channing and henry winkler, but it's freaking me out. it's like grease meets happy days, way after the fact and everyone's old and wrinkly and gray. it's just not right. i didn't even recognize that it was stockard channing, and i love her. 'look at me i'm sandra dee, lousy with virginity, won't go to bed til i'm legally wed, i can't - i'm sandra dee!' god, i love that movie. john travolta rocks. i rock. my new ink rocks. it's gorgeous. the guy that did it, his name was ken and every other word out of his mouth was bra, as in hey bra, yo bra, short for brotha, i assume. it was adorable. it wasn't too painful, my sunburn hurts me more. it ought to turn into a nice golden tan once all the skin falls off and my organs stop roasting. perhaps that's why my shoulder hurts, i've baked my sternum. is that even possible? and tonight's speciality is baked sternum with a nice hollandaise sauce service with sauteed mushrooms and pilaf. i'm ready to beat up the dude to my left for not shutting his fucking window. but i don't think violence is a good way to go. i wonder if i got any good mail at home. i love getting mail. the surprises never stop - will it be letters? bills? cards? magazines? money? money is my favorite, but that doesn't happen very often. only at holidays and birthdays and speaking of those, shit, it's craig's birthday and i spent birthday money on a tattoo. shit, shit, shit. it's okay, i'm italian. :) ask misty. my shoulder is killing me. i have my red physical therapy band of resistance, perhaps i should get it out and work it. perhaps not. don't want to draw attention to the already red girl in seat 10c. so much for having a row all to myself. an injured dude is sitting on the other end. it happens, i guess, but this was my damn row. i'm being possessive, because i'm allowed, damn it. i don't want to go home. i didn't even make it to lahaina. and there's a moose mcgillcuddy's right there in kihei now. i didn't even get a fucking maitai. damn you earache. damn you.

new ink

so sweet...

wet dreams

dad and carolyn have this electric water fountain outside on the lanai, which is just a fancy hawaiian word for back porch. they call it a fish pond. it has guppies in it. i'm sleeping on an air mattress in the living room, which i don't care about, because in my state last night i would have slept in the car if they'd let me. but from the living room to the lanai is maybe 15 feet. maybe. so all night long, i can hear this fish pond gurgling. and all night long, i think i'm peeing.

the dj's name was matt.

ramblings from 34000 ft

**this post has been edited for clarity and content and to protect the innocent which is always myself. screw you, pal**

so here i am, on my way to ogg. i was supposed to be traveling with my work buddy brent, but weather in ord fucked that up for us this morning. that's no gouda. i've caused serious familial discontent. my mother thinks i'm cheating on my husband. my husband doesn't understand the need for a gay male friend. my female friends completely understand. my father's okay with the whole thing. he's just happy i'm coming to see him. i haven't been to ogg in a couple years, not since earache and i got mauied. i'm excited to be going. i was at first a little nervous about going with brent, but now i'm nervous to be going alone. what am i going to do with no one? i hope i can find something to do. :( i might just lie on the beach for a couple of days. that'd be okay. i have to bring home pineapples. one for todd and kelsi and one for earache. earache was so pissy about the whole thing, i was sort of surprised. i didn't think it would be such a big deal. i tend to underestimate that, kind of like that dj friend of mine in indianola. (what was his name?) i told sue that earache just needs to shut the fuck up becuase i'm bringing his whiny ass a pineapple and if he's not careful i'll put it in his ass. that made me laugh. i wouldn't tell earache that, of course. i'm too nice. he thinks.

i love to watch people travel. it's like being at the state fair, except i can't have beer. usually. when i do, it's even more like being at the state fair because it's just as expensive. i didn't have breakfast this morning, and talking about beer didn't make me hungry, but it did make me realize i didn't have breakfast. the flight attendant knows i'm d2. i didn't get pretzels. everyone else got pretzels. what's up with that preferential treatment? or complete lack thereof? maybe i'll be leaving out of the d terminal in dfw. then i can see rrrrruben! he's the coolest! rrrrruben, you want scuba? [i did leave out of the d terminal but didn't see rrrrruben.]

this paragraph has been deleted due to inappropriate content. mom, quit reading my blog so i can be me, damn it.

people travelling with children i think should be reduced to amtrak. unless it's harper. kids are too noisy. too talkative. don't they know i only got three hours of sleep. whiny little cookie eating bastards. shut the hell up.

people are strange
when you're a stranger
something something ugly
when you're alone
that's going to bother me now.

god damn censors.

i rented a car. i wonder if it's bad to sit at the hula grill all afternoon and drink mai tais and then drive myself back to kihei. probly not cool. they have all those awful guilt-inducing highway signs in ogg. "my daddy works on this highway." "speed kills." it's tough enough just to break the speed limit and get around the tourists, the way i remember it. honestly, i don't know tht i've ever driven. last time we were here, i wasn't old enough to technically rent a car.

i'm trying to cs my saturday shift. if it gets picked up, i may not head out until saturday. if not, i'll leave on friday. if mom keeps acting like the turbo bitch she has been, i may never go home. there's something up her ass, and i'm not sure what it is. i know she's pissed i up and left and she all but told be she thinks i'm cheating on my husband. not all of us want to work 120 hours a week, i don't even want to work 40 hours a week. let me be honest. i just don't want to work period.

dude, henry winkler looks like ass.

this no internet, no myspace, no email, no text msg thing is killing me. it's been like, 12 hours now. i left home more than 12 hours ago. i miss the guy. i miss my pillow. i miss my bed. i'm not even there yet and i'm already whining. what a fucking weenie. i miss earache too. i tried to call him before i left dfw, but didn't get an answer. i told him i'm traveling alone, which ought to perk him up a bit, but who knows. he's just as pissy as me lately.

i do have a headache and i can't find any chapstick. but my lips hurt real bad. i'm hoping i can bootleg some wireless internet from someone in dad's neighborhood later tonight. no internet will kill me. aaaack!!! at least i'll have my cell phone. [there are two somewhat dependable wireless connections that i can bootleg from dad's house... yessss...]

two more hours. one more hour and then we get to fill out the agricultural form. yay!! as far as i know, i'm not importing any fruit, vegetables or animals not indiginous to the state of hawaii. i want to ask for the form in spanish just for kicks, but if i answer the questions wrong will i get arrested? or just searched? it's worth a try, it's been a while since i've been searched anyway. could be entertaining. :)

i was able to sleep on the way to dfw. no sleep this trip. eight long hours with chatty old people all around me. not a bad seat. bulkhead, right behind first class. kinda mean, actually. it's like you can almost reach the fruit, but you're just not tall enough. you know it's ripe and juicy and ready to eat, but it's just beyond reach. we need big ass planes like these in dsm. that would kick ass. i would so work ramp. you could load bags for five hours straight and go home. i'm there. i had to retrieve my bag, my gate checked bag, from the freakin ramp. fucking ron didn't tag it and the gate agent almost wouldn't let me have it. they were almost going to send it to baggage claim, but because i had my badge, i got to enter the dfw sida and retrieve my bag from the rampers. nice. fuck you ron.

i'm getting ready to pick up the ebay business again this summer. i'm not really actively looking for a partner, but i have a feeling i'm being recruited for a partnership. pp (potential parter) seems to think we can both make a lot of money if we both work on this. that may be, but i haven't told him he's going into business with someone who can't even balance her checkbook. i told him i needed financial statements and a business plan. then i told him i was joking. i was. sort of.

i'm going to buy a swimsuit. and then i'm going to big beach. or kaanapali. i'm going to roast for a few hours. i have to find a cat toy. and some pineapples. and some caramacs. i don't need a whole lot of anything else. that's really my plan. sun. reading. beach. sand. tan. flip flops. fruit. mai tais. sunglasses. i love being anonymous. it's a beautiful thing.

what an idiot.

is it spying when the person you're spying on doesn't know?

i just answered my own question. what a fucking dumbass.

it's fucking early.

today i woke up at 0549. i just needed to write this down. it doesn't happen often.

it's the little things

my main purpose at work is the ticket counter. i produce boarding passes and receipts, itineraries and price quotes. when the new schedule goes into effect, i will be the bag bitch, and i will take bag bitches from unhappy passengers. but today, i had a good day. i got to walk a dog. i love dogs. and this wasn't a pedigree dog, or even a puppy, but a dog whose owner got delayed and arrived a few hours in advance. a makeshift leash was produced and i got to take this sweet dog (whose name i later learned was fraggles) on a much needed walk. i felt so appreciated, it was fantastic. just a sweet little dog. fraggles, you made my day.


so i went and saw the da vinci code. it was okay. the most bothersome thing to me was not the controversy brought upon by the catholic church. no. i was most bothered by the size of tom hanks' forehead. have you ever really looked at it? it's enormous. we're talking big mc large huge. ginormous. big. BIG. i want to be catholic. why? i enjoy things that are difficult (barring fucking statistics) and religion doesn't get any more complicated than catholicism. jan at work is catholic. she says becoming a catholic as an adult is harder than becoming a us citizen - or at least along the same lines. tests and homework and all the fun stuff. perhaps i could save money on student loans and quit school and take up catholicism, eh?

we need more of these in dsm...

i'm a school junkie

i'm afraid to leave school. it really has nothing to do with student loans, although i really don't want to have to pay those back. i don't know what to do with my time when i'm not in school. i'm not going back to bellevue in the spring. no can do. i'm tired of their indifference. but i don't know what to do next. and wouldnt' you know - fucking statistics is a prerequisite for just about every mba program in the freaking country. i'm screwed.

things that disturb me

• posted graphics that don't work. little red "x" boxes don't do anything for me.
• wet hair in the shower.
• half-completed sudoku puzzles in the newspaper. do or do not; there is no try.
• people who don't know how to spell.
• people who spell things wrong on purpose.
• my fucking nazi stats professor bitch.
• lumps of toothpaste in the sink and bent toothbrush bristles.
• fat people in skinny people clothes. ew.
• strawberry seeds.
• those people that walk up to my counter when (1) i'm obviously still working on something or (2) i'm obviously ignoring them and don't want to help them.
• fakers and haters and murderers and bunny-killers.
• spammers and friend collectors.
• men who say the cee word. it's just dirty.
• fish served with the head still attached.
• high-water pants.
• bad haircuts and unapologetic hair stylists.
• overweight japanese elvis impersonators.
• green jello.
• hair in my food. hair in my sink. hair anywhere but on my head.
• erectile dysfunction commercials.
• people who don't like dogs.
• people who don't like cheese.
• screamer rock.
• teenyboppers.
• that's it for now. look for part two in the near future.

you're better off not knowing me...

The results are in, and they're a little depressing. I don't excel at anything except rebellion, and even then it's a high B... Sad.

Advanced Global Personality Test Results Extraversion 73% Stability 50% Orderliness 40% Accommodation 23% Interdependence 30% Intellectual 50% Mystical 56% Artistic 70% Religious 36% Hedonism 56% Materialism 76% Narcissism 50% Adventurousness 36% Work ethic 16% Self absorbed 76% Conflict seeking 83% Need to dominate 83% Romantic 50% Avoidant 43% Anti-authority 90% Wealth 36% Dependency 30% Change averse 23% Cautiousness 36% Individuality 70% Sexuality 63% Peter pan complex 56% Physical security 76% Physical Fitness 37% Histrionic 76% Paranoia 23% Vanity 76% Hypersensitivity 56% Female cliche 63%

Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

yesss...

Finally. MSN Shopping says belly-baring tees are on their way out. That's a beautiful thing. Because this is not. Just because it comes in your size doesn't mean that it has to be worn, honey. Ewww....

i'm a college dropout... again

I'm quitting school. Not by choice, they're making me. The school. Apparently when you fail a class... twice... on the guvment's dime, it's no gouda. Fucking Nazi statistics bitch. And to top it all off, it's a class I don't even need to freaking take. It's not required for me since I barely passed it as an undergrad. Fuckers. In fact, my grade is so low, I think she'd give me a G- if she could, due to my lack of understanding and participation. I hate her.

...oh johnny damon, oh how i ♥ you...

Johnny Damon, you've got the sweetest ass in the league. Heh. Oh yeah. I'm so good it's scary. I got us Yankees-Red Sox tickets. September. Yankee Stadium. It's a beautiful thing. How freakin' cool is that? I rock. We're going to New York, we're going to New York. :)

So I'm on more medicine for my headaches, more Topamax. It makes my dreams just absolutely bizaare. I dreamt I was awake, watching television all night. Movies, nothing spectacular. I felt so tired when I got up, like I hadn't slept at all. Lately, I've been sleeping later and later, til like 1030 or 1100 in the morning, and that's really late for me. If the phone doesn't ring or the cat leaves me alone, there's no reason for me to get up and around. Especially since I'm flunking out of school. But we'll save that for another day.

These headaches have to stop.

I'm going to pull my eyes out of their sockets if it doesn't go away soon. My vision is blurry, even with my glasses. I feel like there is a giant rubber band around my head and it's just getting smaller and smaller. I want to cry for no real reason other than my head hurts but I know that's not going to help. I'm medicated to the hilt and that's not really safe either. I shouldn't be driving or operating heavy machinery like the dishwasher.

***

I decided it was time to go incognito and change my name. To protect myself. Screw the innocent.

Blog that, asshole.

Apparently I've caused familial discontent by blogging my true Easter feelings. That's no Gouda. It shocks Jorge that I have a blog at all. Here, Jorge. Here is my revenge.

It's crunchy bug season.

You know that sound, when you drive along at 65 miles per hour and it sounds like rain but it's really just bugs hitting the windshield? I hate that sound. It means I have to clean the windshield. Or wash the car. Generally I'm lazy enough just to wash the car - just drive it on through the automatic wash at eight bucks a pop. It's no wonder I'm poor.

So this weekend is Mother's Day. I sort of have a gift for my mum but not really. That reminds me, I need to get my other gifts shipped out and/or delivered. I hate contrived holidays like this. I do believe the Hallmark company has something to do with this. It's a nice thought, but I'd like to have it on my own, not as the greeting card companies dictate. Mum wants a $200 hair dryer, I think I've mentioned that before. I don't know how I'll produce an ionic hair dryer, much less the $200 to fund the purchase. I wish my siblings had better jobs.

*******Vacation Update********
Assuming that I don't get released from duty by my employer sometime between now and October, Earache and I are planning a Swiss vacation. Woohoo! Our Switzerland material arrived in the post today and I'm ready to leave for the hills of Heidi. Heck yes I am. I wonder, will my 'puter work over there? I have tons of questions.

I want to see Zurich and Bern and Geneva and the Matterhorn and St. Gallen and Zermatt and eat cheese and ride trains and buy lots and lots of Swatches. That is my ulterior motive for picking Switzerland, I have to admit. But if we'd gone to Australia, we'd have gone sprint car racing I'm sure. So Earache is in full-on 'save' mode, and I think that's neat. Notice I'm not joining him just yet. I don't think I have a saving gene in my body. Although I did sign up for 401k and I was quite proud of myself, damn it. Janet. Heh.

I hate ice cream cones.

I am ice cream cone retarded. I admit it. They are too skinny and lean one direction or the other. I have tried several methods of creation: looking at the ice cream as it descends from the machine, the "blop-blop" method - but it's all done in vain. I am an ice cream cone idiot. And I'm okay with that. But my parents aren't. Apparently, when you own an ice cream store you can't have a daughter that can't produce perfect looking ice cream cones. So now I have another source of stress in my life. I have yet to produce children (offense number one) and I have yet to produce a sell-able ice cream cone. Perhaps if I pushed out some puppies they'd forget about the ice cream? I doubt it.

It's Tulip Time!

Beautiful weather, beautiful tulips, stingy Dutch folks, tons of ice cream and no airplanes! It's perfect! Woohoo!

That's hardly news.

Maybe it's just me, but I find it more than a little disturbing that the sentencing of convicted 9/11 conspirator Zacarias Moussaoui is followed by headlines revolving around Lindsey Lohan and American Idol on one of the net's top news sites. What's even more disturbing, is that the same alleged boyfriend stealing Lohan story is among America's top favorites to read. So she's a skank ass whore. That's hardly news. And in comparison to everything else going on in the world today, why do we need to know this?

Damn the man...

Don't get me wrong. I do like my job. I really do. I've never been able to say that. So when I want to go back to work and they won't let me, I'm pissed. I've been sick, there's no denying that, but I've done everything they've asked me to do and it's still not enough. There are still forms to be filled out, considerations to be taken, and work restrictions to be lifted. WTF? They placed no restriction on me, other than "don't contaminate the workplace" and "don't come to work." Now that I want to go back, they're being a royal pain in the ass. Fuckers.

I have to have an ultrasound on Monday. And on the Today show, they're urging viewers to negotiate for lower health care costs. So I ask this: If I ask crazy-ass Tom Cruise to do my ultrasound and in return promise to read a book by ultra-crazy-ass L. Ron Hubbard or whatever his name is, do you think he'd still make me file with my insurance company? Hey, I'm just following Fat Albert Roker's advice and trying to save some cash, g... Hey, hey, hey...

I could go to hell for that.

I like to stick my tongue out at old people. I like to drive insanely fast and my plan, if I ever get pulled over, is to blame severe cramping either due to female problems or due to stomach issues, depending on the gender of the officer. I hate people who drive white or navy blue or gold Ford Crown Victorias just for the hell of it. I flip those people off on a regular basis. I use a lot of curse words in regular conversation, including the eff word. That's bad. I don't use the cee word, cuz I'm a girl and I don't like the cee word used in general conversation about other females. I also like to teach small children bad habits, like making faces at adults. That's because I don't have kids and I don't plan on having kids and I think it's funny. I have a pretty sick sense of humor. I laugh at my own jokes. I don't think I can go to hell for that, but it makes me look pretty conceited. I rub my eyes until I see stars and am fully aware that this is what caused my astigmatism. I think the sign "For Sale By Owner" is absolutely fucking retarded. Who else would sell it? The neighbor? The ex-wife? I want to start a line of yard signs that convey those messages. "For Sale by Unpaid Mortgage Company: House Goes Cheap." I want to bite my dental hygenist, not all kinky-like, just because I want to. I don't like tools in my mouth. Heh. I like watching South Park, even though it's tasteless and crude. I like being tasteless and crude. Now, mind you, that is different from being white trash, although with the rise in popularity of tv shows like "My Name is Earl", white trash is getting to be pretty mainstream. I like to watch sappy movies, movies I've seen time and time again, for hours on end and do nothing else. I could survive on bread and cheese and juice for the rest of my life. I secretly love my hair and it's taken me about 25 years to come to terms with that. I really, really, really want to hit orange traffic cones with my car or a mailbox, but I don't want to have to pay to get it fixed. My car, not the mailbox, cuz I would be smooth enough not to get caught. Heh heh heh... See, deep down, I think I'm still the deviant I was years ago. I just got taller.