i pity the fool

i am a train wreck. if you encounter me, stay away. i pity the fool that gets in my path. i will roundhouse kick you in the vagina.

*****

if i had a real roc friend and not just a fake roc friend, i'd be on my way to dfw right now for two days of bringe drinking, sun absorbing, martini glass breaking fun. but no. my roc friend fucking sucks and i'm over her and done with her and we are no more. how fucking rude is that? she needs time? she wants special time with her captain? you know what i fucking need? i'd tell you, but you obviously don't give a shit. so you, susan, can stick your selfish little self-absorbed email right up your whore ass because i'm done with you. no more. cut off. no more landshark for you, bitch. you'll be sorry. (unless you'd like to make it up to me by inviting me up for a binge drinking weekend out on the boat and then we can talk about my forgiving you. no guarantees.)

*****

so how do i keep finding myself in these situations? where do they come from? i'll be as vague as possible, becuase i know what i'm talking about and the fact that you don't doesn't really bother me that much. does my forehead say, tell me all your shit? is there something really therapuetic looking about me? i don't think so, but i keep finding all this weird shit dumped on me. why do i care, is my first thought, but i adore this coworker, and would like to be of assistance (imagine cajun man saying that, that's how i like to say it these days "ahh-sis-stahnce"). i don't know what to tell her. people have interesting problems but when i get involved i tend to get too involved and then take them to heart. i don't need any more problems, i seem to create enough on my own.

*****

i'm in the final countdown (duh-nuh-nuh-nuhhhh) as far as ogg is concerned. i need to find a cute pair of sandals and get a pedicure and a fake tan. i'm pretty clear and i have a rainbow colored bruise on my shin. it's pretty. pretty fucking ugly. :D

good morning, vietnam

i spent the majority of last night trying to teach my puppy to bark on command. i think he's trained me instead. little bastard. we had company last night, arriving in the wee hours of dawn, and we thought it best to keep the pup cooped up in the bedroom. that was neat fun. i love being up to watch the sunrise. but our drunk houseguest couldn't figure out which of our two doors was open so a barrage of phone calls at 500 had the house up in arms, so there was no sleep to be had. no sleep 'til brooklyn. so here it is, 630, and i'm bright eyed and bushy tailed and oh-so-excited to go to work. yeehaw.

nine more straight days of work and then i get a day off. then i get six days off. then i get six days off in hawaii. then i get six days off in hawaii to lay on the beach. i think you can see where this is going.

i may go on a shoplifting spree

items under 25$ are okay to steal from your local wal-mart. those in favor of the famed five-finger discount no longer have to live in fear of the local 5-0. wal-mart's new policy is to let petty thefts - those with values under 25$ - fade away. unless, of course, you tend to make a habit (say, daily?) of petty thefts from your local wal-mart. that may gather some attention. it's an interesting change in policy. it must be nice - 25$ here, 25$ there, after all, it's just money. bfd.

however, if you are a sticky-fingered wal-mart bandit, the best way to avoid the entire "is it worth more than 25$" debacle is just to not get caught. :D

i need something sharp

life as i know it is over. i'm going to go kill myself now. there's no reason for living. rivers, you're a traitor.

to whom it may concern

i am writing this post to inform you of my intent to resign from my position as assistant finance and insurance manager/phone answerer/message taker/payment receiver/complaint resolution specialist/office busy body at my secondary place of employment. following, please find my reasoning behind my resignation.

1. family. it's impossible to work with family. its safer just not to play that game. too much information, too much time together, an unhappy family makes.
2. too many chiefs, not enough indians. lots of decision makers, not so many decisions. it gets old.
3. i can't stand doing nothing. being there and doing nothing gives me a headache. every time i leave there after a long day of ineffectiveness, i have to take a migraine pill and cry myself to sleep, my fucking head hurts so bad. is it the glare from the windows? the melancholy mood of the business? take your pick.
4. i'm not interested in having multiple jobs anymore. i can barely handle the one i have some days. i'm not able to juggle two jobs when one is taking up 50+ hours a week. i'm not wired that way. sorry to disappoint.
5. i've never been properly trained and i'm not comfortable with the work in some situations.

and for these reasons, please accept my resignation - my second resignation. i've already quit this job once. please let me go.

*****

oh, this was nice. i thought this was really neat... "gotta pass on your next maui adventure... picking up lots of hours... as far as next week in dallas, i really don't have much free time. only there two nights and i have plans for dinner with my captain, which were made a long time ago... and one of my coworkers is gonna be there for core , who was my coworker at comair... would love to see you, but don't know if it's worth it for a short trip..."

i was just un-invited from my own fucking vacation. whore.

i'll give you twin features

i painted my fingernails at work today. it was a slow, slow day. i hate fingernail polish but if i didn't do something i would have passed out from tiredness at the baggage claim desk and i don't think that looks very good. speaking of work, it was grand fucktard central with all the special olympics folks heading out. that was fun. i've never seen so many matching tshirts and gold medals. does everyone get a gold medal? i understand that they're special, hence, special olympics, but aren't these games somewhat competitive? what's the freaking point if we're all winners?

***

this week's word is himbo. it's the male version of a bimbo. currently, i don't think i know any himbos, but when i meet one, i will be sure to enlighten him with this literary crowd pleaser. it's a great word, i'm just sad i haven't been able to utilize it thus far.

***

i met pissface's bf. he's not what i expected, and perhaps he was being shy, but still, the difference between perception and reality was somewhat shocking. very nice person, don't get me wrong, but i feel i could easily offend him just by being me. (somedays i enjoy offending others for no other good reason than i can, but i don't want to intentionally offend this person. yet...) i hope this isn't the case, this 36-hour trip could be painful. that's not the length of my stay, but pissface's. i'm all for going just because i can, but that's not a very long stay. i better get to snorkel goddamn it. and i better get a mai tai. oh, fine, let's be honest, if sue's going, we'd better have a designated driver. we're going to have a lot of mai tais. :D

confessions

i need to confess. last night, i committed a serious sin. i was home alone, and i couldn't help myself. i watched a lindsey lohan movie. and i found myself enjoying it. i feel so dirty, i'm weeping on the inside. beesheee. :(

i don't think i can bite my dog

puppy will not stop biting my armpit. i don't know what it is about my armpit. it actually kind of hurts, even for a little fluffball with teeny-weeny teeth. i'm not sure of how to break him of this gnawing habit. so far, i blow in his face when he begins to nibble, which he doesn't enjoy, but doesn't seem to stop him from going back for seconds or thirds or more. my friend tammi has dogs, she has large dogs - chow chows and st. bernards. her theory is that she has to show them who the dominant bitch in the household is, obviously, her. so when they begin to play rough, she bites them until they wimper. i've seen this done and it's freakin' weird. to see a well-dressed dutch woman roll on the floor with a big-ass dog, biting it until it cries is just a strange sight, but she does have well behaved pets. i just don't know if i can bring myself to be the dominant bitch in the house, you'd think that would be apparant, as i am the only bitch in a house full of boys. maybe when he gets bigger, but by then the armpit chewing thing will really hurt. i don't know. tammi has kids now, and i've often wondered if she bites them for misbehaving. teehee.

this month i'm going to dfw to see sue at her gsc class. then at the end of the month, i'm going to try to go see dad. :) and get a tan in the process. :D

this is me, unplugged

i'm suffering from technology overload. i want to unplug everything i own and stop answering the phone. i'm beginning to hate my cell phone and my laptop and my email and my ebay and my myspace. i'm starting to hate it all. i hate being on call, on demand, whenever anyone wants me. there should be a do-not-call-the-janel registry. i'd register for it, but i don't call me very often, so it wouldn't do a lot of good.

the word of the week is fucktard, fucktard.

i went garage saling this morning with my garage sale buddy. i practically stole a laptop out of his hands. i sort of feel bad about it, but not bad enough to offer to sell it to him or anything crazy whack funky like that. you snooze you lose, pedro. we snooped through shit, and i do mean shit, on the south side of the metro. (metro. ha.) it's always interesting to see what people are selling and even more interesting to see what people are buying. people don't generally buy random things, except for us, and they're only random to the extent that they're not specificially for us, per se. but to watch other people pilfer through other people's belongings is fascinating. especially when they don't speak english, because i want to know what they're saying. and because they always want a good deal. a dollar for that brand new in box light fixture? well, you're obviously out of your mind. however, 85 cents is far more reasonable, lady. generally i do not leave garage saling with regrets, but this time i do wish i'd purchased the toilet salt and pepper shakers, if for no other reason than to say that at one time in my life i owned toilet shaped salt and pepper shakers.

the special olympics are in the area. i hear there are retards roaming the airport. and they're not only mildly to serverely retarded, but they're buff and kickass strong. which means they could put someone in a headlock if luggage were to get lost. when this scenario plays out in my mind, they for some reason sound like timmy from south park. and that just cracks me up. but in honor of the special olympics, the word of the week is fucktard. its a nice combination of fuckface and retard. i love it. you do know what the only thing better than winning in the special olympics is, don't you?

not being retarded. fucktard. hehehehehehehe....

i have goals. lots of them.

this is a small list of things i want to do before i perish. this list is not all inclusive. this is just what i can think of at the moment.

• donate a large amount of money to charity. anonymously.
• eat chinese food. in china. and like it.
• learn to hand jive. seriously.
• master walking in crazy high heels for no other reason than i want to.
• be someone's godparent.
• get my masters' degree.
• pay off my student loans. (yeah, that's not happening, but it sounds good.)
• map my family tree. the real one, not the imaginary one.
• drop all the grudges and guilt i carry. it's not healthy and kind of heavy.
• stop drinking soda and start drinking juice. forever.
• become a vegan.
• move to an island. far, far away. (where they don't know what student loans are...)
• learn to differentiate love from security and need from want.

**the list is subject to change and is not comprehensive. but sometimes i think if i don't write these things down they'll never happen.

i'm not cubicle trained. neither is my dog.

i'm working job #2. it sucks. now i remember why i hate working job #2. it's because it sucks.

hehehehehehehe....

however, a perk to job #2 is that i brought hercules. he's sleeping in the east ghetto. i think he peed on the floor. but if i don't acknowledge it, it didn't happen, and this is for two reasons: 1) it's not my floor, and 2) job #2 has cleaning people.

hehehehehehehe....

i tend to over indulge, i know

it's new purse week. isn't this a lovely specimen? i have to admit, i also purchased the matching wallet. and, i got the new puppy a coach collar and lead, because i want him to feel loved and accepted in our uppity ass neighborhood. plus, if he's wearing coach, there's a good chance our dog-disliking neighbor across the way will take a liking to him. this will just look smashing on my arm, i do believe, and it won't look bad with my super cute red pea coat that i bought last winter, when the time comes, although we both know the chances of my wearing the same coat from season to season are slim to none. ahh well... anyway, i may end up selling the patchwork tote i have now, especially since i own the hard-to-find matching clutch wallet. i wonder what that's selling for on ebay. oh, it's rough being me. :) but i just adore this bag. it was just calling my name... "superjanel, superjanel, you know you want me... you know you want to spend your allowance and then some on me... come on superjanel..." what can i say? i lack self control. i just can't wait for it to get here...

i gave hercules a bath this morning. it was so cute. he looked like a tiny white rat. he's so small, just 2.8 pounds. that's only 1.27 kilograms. he's teeny! he smelled awful this morning, so it was into the sink he went. he didn't seem to mind it too much, but he wasn't a big fan of the blow dryer. i won't be trying that anytime soon. hehehehehe...

i don't have to go back to work until monday. that's crazy talk right there, sister. i'm getting bored. i do have to work at mccroskey's tomorrow and perhaps our favorite eye candy from down under will make an appearance. oh, what to wear? these decisions are tough, let me tell you. i do get to take the puppy, as he's just too small to leave home alone for so long, but next week is the real test. i picked up a ton of hours pre-puppy, like 12 hour days, and i don't know how puppy will survive. so sad. but i need the dollars to pay for my new purse and his new collar. teehee.

good night sweet girl

four easy words. hard to say. it would be nice to be needed.

♥ new baby ♥

look at this cutie pie... his name is hercules faustus mason... today he is seven weeks and two days old...

♥♥♥

so i didn't go to ogg. i'm taking the time to bond with my new puppy. and i have a lot to list on ebay. and dad doesn't feel well, i can hear it in his voice. he sounds really tired. but its kind of nice to be at home, with nowhere to be and nothing really pressing to do. i'm really good at doing nothing.

so last week, i loaned jorge money. i felt bad, i know the kid doesn't have any, but truth be told, i didn't really have the funds to be loaning myself. i'm better off than he is, don't get me wrong, and i don't think he'd ask me unless he really needed it, he's never asked before. it was weird. i think i'll consider it a long term investment, becuase i don't think i'll get it back unless he wins the lottery. and there's still several months before he can legally play the lottery.

oh, hercules. he's such a doll. kittnen doesn't think much of the puppy, although he finds the new puppy food refreshing. it's kind of funny to watch our massive kitty get chased by a tiny puppy. hercules was almost a murphy, and then almost a hans, and then i almost liked quimby. but hercules is quite fitting. too cute. about five years ago i knew a little girl with a bichon named webster, she called him webby, and she was awful to him, but she had the biggest crush on earache. i tried to initiate a trade, but her mom and earache had qualms about it. i guess the mom paid like 1500$ for the dog, and earache wasn't too keen on spending life with a teenybopper.

i'm generally not much of a risk taker

generally. no, that's a lie. but that's not what i'm talking about. i have a serious fear of water. but i'm going snorkeling in a few days. i'm leaving for ogg on the 28th, and i want to go snorkeling. out in the middle of the water where the waves can't kick my ass and i won't get a nasty sand rash. maybe earache will be going with me. he's not sure. then i will lie on the beach. then i will come home. that's all.

i've got ambition, damn it

i don't have to work today until 1500. i think i may learn how to hand jive. it can't take that long, can it? i can even do it sitting down. i just took a six hour nap and now i'm not tired and i need something to do. i can't even list on ebay because earache's computer blew up on friday night. damn it!

decisions

there's some good looking garage sales in the paper. i'm not even asleep yet and i can already tell i'm not going to want to get out of bed to go rummaging through other people's cast offs. that's pretty sad. i was supposed to go rummaging on saturday with a friend, but i don't know the status of that date and i'm not sure i want to be up at the ass crack of dawn two days in a row. it's tough being me, that's what you're thinking.

my own 12-step program

i'm editing the layout of my blog today. i'm removing the link that says, who links to me? it's a narcissistic link, and frankly, my dear, i don't give a damn who links to me and who doesn't. [i have so always wanted to say that. i think it would have sounded better if i could have said it out loud, but hey, it's my story. back off.] i'm considering removing the link that tells me how many people visit my blog, but honestly, i find that interesting, even though most of those people are me. narcissism must be a 12-step program. removing the 'who links to me' button is very low on the list. when i start making my rounds and apologizing you'll know i'm making progress.

don't expect that anytime soon.

work. so at work, i bid** a 1330-1900 shift. it's a lovely shift, one that i'm destined to work for the rest of my natural born life, i'm convinced. and that's fine. whatever. it's 5.5 hours a day, 7.5 hours a day with the commute, completely workable. i like my job. well, apparantly part time is the new full time, because i was one of the lucky ones to get my shift extended. and not by like 30 minutes or an hour. no. we're talking three fucking hours. so my leisurely 5.5 hour day, 7.5 with the commute is now 8.5, 10.5 with my drive. WTF? but i smile and nod and carry on. and under my breath i swear and complain, and then i come here and vent. my last two paychecks have sucked major ass, like jlo ass, what with the mumps and nonrev fees and all, so its a timely change, but i still like to complain. i'm sure that's one of the 12 steps i'm going to have to conquer at some point.

**i say bid with a voice tone dripping with sarcasm because i am second from the bottom on the bid list and i just think it's cool beans that i get a fucking choice in the matter. hmmm...line 8 or relief, whatever will i do? i'm so overwhelmed with all these choices... and you must know in the next 7.5 seconds? bid? hahahahahahaha....

look at the pretties

keep on truckin

today earache planted trees and shrubs around the outside of the house. it looks nice. we look domesticated. we look like the stepfords. it looks nice. as soon as the sun comes out i'll take some pictures. it was just too shitty to go outside today, at least for me. i stayed inside, in bed, until nearly 200 p.m. today. that was kind of nice. except the book that i read, the last of the templars, sucked my ass and yours too, and i'm upset about that. but i'm slowly recovering.

somebody owes me like 17 hours...

...cuz i'm not going to get those back. i just finished the stupidist fucking book. and the pisser is that it took like three freaking weeks to read. it dragged and lollygagged and carried on and i persevered because i hate leaving books unfinished. ugh. what a fucking waste.

no way jose

my best work friend (and good friend in general) is threatening to quit over work politics. i say NO! you can't do that. then what will i do? i'll waste away at the security checkpoint of boredom and corporate indecision and who will write me up for wearing light blue shoes and non-company issued navy blue pants? you can't do it! don't do it!

i like being me

i just decided this today. i think i'm awesome. i think i rock.

l'ignoranza è bliss

everybody has secrets. even the most honest, dedicated person you think you know. it's a strange thing when you find that out. it's almost a relief, like you can really be you and they won't judge you. like you can tell them how fucked up you are and how fucked up you really are on the inside and they won't care. but then you wonder if they're fucking with you because you know they're able to do so. and you know they're thinking the same thing about you. and in the midst of this giant open, honest conversation, all your trust is put aside and you're left waiting for the other shoe to drop because you suddenly know this other person. and maybe you've lost a little respect for them and you wish you didn't know all you knew about them and it would be easier if things could go back to the way they were just four minutes ago before that whole conversation started. not possible. how's that saying go? better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt. hmmm...

get it together

i'm participating in a neighbor's rummage sale this weekend. i'd rather be going to rummage sales this weekend than holding one myself. i hate this. people picking through my shit, asking me if they can have my christmas presents and mementos for 50 cents less than what's marked on the blazing orange tag. fuck no bitch. if i'd wanted you to have that teapot for 2.50$ instead of 3.00$, i would have fucking marked it that way, now wouldn't i? but i just smile and say, deal and we just go our merry ways, me with 2.50$ in my pocket and she with my christmas teapot. it's hardly a bargain for me. somehow though, when i'm at a rummage sale, it's okay for me to make such an offer and not be offensive or condescending. but i'm just not into it this time around. i think my neighbor is looking forward to kicking my ass this year, as i kicked her ass last year. i think i found her one competitive bone - winning at garage sales, and that cracks me up. ahh well. i get to play with her daughter and that's neat fun.

i have been so bored the last few days, i don't know what my problem is. i've been going to bed at 10p.m. and waking at 6a.m., which is not like me, and while i realize this is a good thing, i'm not really enjoying it much. it's rather pissing me off. if i could sleep later, i could stay up later, but alas, there is no sleep for me and then there is no conan for me. maybe it's because i'm out of one of my meds. i just thought of that. i should go get it. that might help. hmmm... anyway. last night was like the best south park episodes of all time. it was the paris hilton whore off and then the baseball playoffs episode. i love the paris hilton whore off. earache had not seen that one before and didn't believe me when i told him it was bad. it's bad. the pineapple, the whole deal. baaaaad.

it could be a bad day

6.6.6. i'm not necessarily buying into it, but a lot of crackheads might. and those crackheads might be on airplanes today. hopefully not. hopefully those assholes stay home and keep their luggage with them. i don't want to have to deal with them today, i'm not in the mood for crazies. i'm sorry sir, i don't really care that your bag was demolished or that it looks as though we tied it behind the plane and dragged it from dfw. please just fuck off, wanker. heh. now that's customer service.

wanker. i still love that word.

yesterday i worked at mcc, it was a painfully slow day. i used to enjoy those days, now they just hurt. misty came in to see me. that was good, i haven't acutally talked to her in a long time. talked to her in person, i should say. we had a wicked snowball fight on saturday, i'm still laughing about that. who's that girl?

ask and ye shall receive... :-)

hehehehehe... nice. someone's looking out for me. the day i post that it's been a long ass time is the day my fortune changes. :) yay me!

road to recovery...?

maybe? is it what i want? i don't know. he cried, i felt awful. it was not pretty at all. there's a reason dudes do not cry, they're just not fucking good at it. they shouldn't do it on a regular basis. chicks can pull it off with a certain grace, at least until the nose gets involved and snot starts pouring down your chin like water at the hoover dam (is this a god damn?). however, dudes and tears just do not mix and i'd be happy not to have to witness this phenomenon again any time soon. but it seems that we've found a similar path to follow for the time being, and that's kosher. i just hope it's paved and well traveled. i hate dirt roads.

so last night, we went to see the break up, which is kind of timely, considering that's where we were on thursday night. it's like i told rob this morning, it all sort of came to a head last thursday night. all that shit. all that had been stored up for so long. but back to the movie, and not even the point of the movie, but to vince vaughn. the man is arguably 76 to 79 inches tall, which i find incredibly attractive, since earache is a mere .5 inches taller than me barefoot. 76 inches. that would so rock my world. i dig tall guys and look at me. that's okay. the legend goes that those that are vertically challenged overcompensate in other areas of their life, and while some accomplish this by driving a corvette, i don't think this is earache's style. i can't vouch for this behavior though, at least not recently. (it's been for-fucking-ever.)

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.

I'm going to have to build an ark.

Seriously. If it doesn't stop raining soon, we're going to float away. This is the ark I've built. See, that's me, out in the front. No, I'm lying. But seriously, we must have gotten about 46 inches of rain. No, not really, I can't tell, because my rain gauge floated away. No, that's a lie. I don't have a rain gauge. And if I did, I would never attend to it because it belongs outside with the rain and I belong inside where the rain is not. No, that's a lie too, because sometimes I fill the birdfeeder, and it belongs outside. Once about every 17.84 times it needs filled, I'm the gal to fill it. But I'm not keeping track or anything. No that's another lie, because I do keep track. Birdfeeder, trash, toilets, dishwasher, spiders, cat box - those are men's jobs. Once in a while, to make Earache feel insanely guilty and privileged, I'll take out the trash or fill the bird feeder. But it does average out to about once every 17.84 times. Or close to it, I bet, because I wasn't really telling the truth. About keeping track. Everything else was true. Unless I said it wasn't, and then I was telling the truth.

I think.

Freakin' Cubs.

I don't know what Carlos Zambrano is on, but he should not take it before a game ever again. Seven runs in four innings. WTF?

Today I feel like writing in green. And perhaps in green, in a different font. That's different. It's good to be different. It's a rainy, cruddy weekend, and I'm attempting to make myself feel better by writing in green. It's not really working, but I'll keep trying.

I was able to get Thursday through Sunday off this week for Tulip Time so I can work at the ice cream store. That means that I'll work Wednesday at the airport, Thursday through Sunday at the ice cream store, off Monday and Tuesday and then back to the grind at the airport. Not a bad gig. We're going to bid for a new schedule soon; I'd like to bid nights but I heard that shift has been spoken for. That and I'm so far down on the seniority line I'm lucky I get to choose at all.

There's another coworker that's come down with the mumps. I feel bad, like it's sort of my fault, but it all comes down to Charmin. Blame it on Charmin.

Cha-cha-cha-Charmin.

Bitch. I'm mumpy and it's her fault. No, not really. It's not good to hang on to such hostility. This hostility will not stand, man.

So maybe I'm a little slow...

...I just figured out yesterday that my poor fish, Buster, can be fed. That little film-looking canister beside him is actually fish food and if you click and drag, it can be used to feed my poor starving Carassius auratus. No wonder he looks so needy. I'm a terrible fish mom.

I actually used to have a very nice fish tank, in a past life. Several beautiful small fish, a 40-gallon tank, very colorful greenery. I was convinced my fish didn't poo, as it was always very clean. Until I went to move one day, and the tank had to be drained. Underneath all the colored rocks and the tray that allowed air to flow from underneath, was a solid layer of poo. I was very grossed out. From that day forward, I've never been able to keep a fish. They're too deceptive.

So tomorrow was the day that I was supposed to board an airplane for my binge drinking trip to Dallas. In my condition, I don't think it's good PR for the company to non-rev and expose up to 70 people to the mumps. Plus, I'm in no mood for Sue or for Dolly, even for Ruben. I just want to sit home and sulk. I'm doing a good job of it, too. I've watched so much telly in the last couple of days, it's just disgusting. If I don't stop watching daytime soap operas, my head will explode from imbibed drama. It's just too much for me. That and the acting is just awful. Where do they find these people?

Fun facts for cocktail parties

There's a skunk outside that's preventing me from opening the windows for the kittnen; he's moderately discombobulated and I completely understand why. The stench was overwhelming and as soon as I began to crank open the window I had to start to crank it shut. He thinks I'm playing mind games with him, and while yes, that's generally the case, today I'm doing it to protect my sensitive stomach. Bleccchh. But it does have me thinking. What a life the kittnen must lead. Leisurely waking whenever he pleases, lying on his owners' chests to ensure that he is fed and watered and groomed, racing about the house, all fat-tailed and crazy-eared after seeing those imaginary predators lurking in the shadows, falling asleep whenever and wherever the idea strikes his fancy. It's a life of luxury and I am part of it only to serve him. Glad I could be of assistance.

It's going to be a dark and dreary day. Rain is forecasted and lots of it - perhaps it will rain out the races tomorrow night and Earache and I can spend those hours looking at each other with nothing to talk about and nothing to do. Hey, don't shoot the messenger, he said it long before I did. On Sunday mornings, after the races, they show a seven-day forecast, and already at that point, he's doing his rain dance. Why he bothers, I'm not sure. I think it just gives him something to worry about all week long - wait, am I talking about the racing or the rain? Hmmm....

I found my sweet little cousin Schmalex on Myspace yesterday; sweet she is not when among her peers. I remember being 15, but I don't remember being stupid enough to publicize my wrongdoings for the world to see. There's a whole new type of terrifying teenager out there - wow, that makes me sound so old - but it's reasons like that that I am never having children. I dig other people's kids and all that jazz, but I am scared shitless of owning them myself. Maybe owning isn't the right word. The right word escapes me presently. You know what I mean. More importantly, I know what I mean, and that's all that matters.

I'm sure I'll be back, I have soooo much planned for today. TV, Cocoa Puffs, TV, napping, Sudoku, TV, brush my teeth, Myspace... not necessarily in that order, but that about covers it. We're in day two of full my mumps coverage. Woohoo!

You can call me Mrs. Rivers Cuomo. ♥

It's day one of my mumps (at least spent entirely at home) and I'm bored already. This is going to be a long period of quarantine. Earache went to get his MMR; he says we're both invalids. Maybe I'll get some homework done. Maybe I'll get some stuff posted on eBay. And maybe not, maybe I'll just waste the next five days on MySpace like I did today. Heh heh heh...

Look what I found:

♥ Isn't he just the cutest thing ever? ♥

In an alternate universe, Rivers is my soulmate. I know it. I can feel it. *Sigh.*

I was good; I've already bought Mother's Day gifts for most of the mothers in my life. I bought Mom a necklace she's said she's wanted for a while now. But now she's changed her mind and she wants this $200 ionic hair dryer. What the hell? It's supposed to make your hair shiny. For $200, I'd want it to shine my shoes and shave my legs. I also bought gifts for bestgram and muminlaw, but I don't know what to get for stepmummy. She's tough to buy for.

Does anyone else watch the Weather Channel as religiously as I do? I think Jim Cantore is freakin' hot. I mean, he's no Rivers Cuomo, obviously, but for an older guy, choosing to be bald (sort of), he's sexy. Plus, he's manly enough to wear a pink tie. I dig guys that can pull off pink. Not enough try. It can be a very flattering color to some skin types; Earache is one of them but pink's not his bag. And, he's willing to risk life and limb to inform me about dangerous weather situations - you'll find him out in the rain, the snow, the floods, the hurricanes, the lightning, the typhoons - you name it, he's there. I dig meteorologists. Weather. Now that's hot.

Tony Danza is a punk ass bitch.

Why does he have a tv show and I don't? For God's sake, he sounds like Rocky and he wasn't even Rocky. I'd rather watch Sylvester Stallone interview the newest teen phenomenon on the Disney channel. I mean, come on. There are so many more talented people in this world. He is so not the boss and he still has 60 minutes, less commercials, of my day, should I choose to let him have it. Bastard. He is a no-talent waste of flesh. His only claim to fame was his supposed affair with Angela Bower, and I'm still not buying that. (There was just no connection between them, you know?) He's just famous by association for his used-to-be-tv-daughter, Alyssa Milano, who's gone on to bigger, though not necessarily better, things. This is pissing me off the more I think about it so I'd better go find something else to do before I pop a blood vessel and give myself a stroke. Grrr...

My Mumps

No joke. I'm mumpy. I'm one of the 1,121 confirmed or suspected cases of the mumps in the State of Iowa. What an honor, to be such a select part of the population. That's like, less than one percent of the state population. And that's me. Woohoo! I don't have the swelling, thank God. But it still hurts like a mother. My ears hurt, and the spot in front of my ears. It hurts to eat Cocoa Puffs, but I still do it. That's taking one for the home team - I am such a trooper. I have yet to tell our pals across the street, that's going to be a hard conversation to bring up. "Your cute, adorable baby girl? Yeah, I think I may have this awful, disfiguring, contagious disease..."

I have another problem. I am slowly becoming addicted to MySpace. I need to detox. I need days away from my computer, or at least away from MySpace. It's sucking up entirely too much of my time. How do people function with thousands of friends? I don't even have a dozen and it's draining for me...

I'm feeling slightly perturbed this morning, I don't know why. Here's a list of things that are bothering me currently:
* Tony Danza has his own show. This is a fucking joke. He sucks. He's not funny. And you can so obviously tell that he's reading from the cue cards.
* My favorite TV show, The Office, has been in reruns for like a month now. This has been pissing me off for a long time.
* I can't ever get through to the radio station contest. I know the answers; they know I know the answers and when I call they won't pick up because they don't want to give away $1,000!
* Gas is $2.79/gallon. That's fucking ridiculous!!! Congress is thinking about passing a bill that will allow an instant $100 relief to taxpayers, if they can begin drilling up the National Wildlife Reserve in Alaska. Republicans. Grrr.
* My cavity is killing me, yet I continue to eat white bread and Cocoa Puffs. Someone had the nerve to write and ask me if I would consider changing my ways and start eating Cap'n Crunch. It's square and then I would be eating 'square meals'. No freaking way. I dig curves, man. This hostility will not stand, man. You go off and eat your Cap'n Crunch. When the sharp corners of the tiny square nuggets tear through the soft tissue inside your mouth, don't come bleeding and crying to me. I'll be eating an easygoing bowl of Cocoa Puffs, damn it. I fear change and I won't be bullied.

I think that's about it. I dont' know. Since I'll be home for the next 3 to 26 days, I'll probably add to the list of pissers.

It could be a crackhead.

This actually made the news somewhere. How sad is that? Do you think he's really Irish?

Apparently I have nothing better to think about.

If I ate three solid meals of nothing but Cocoa Puffs everyday, would it still be called three "square meals?" Because, honestly, there's nothing square about a meal made of Cocoa Puffs. The yuumy, chocolately puffs themselves are little round balls. The bowl from which I eat them is also round, as is the spoon - no squared off edges. The jug of milk, while not perfectly round, is certainly not sqaure. I'm not much of a toast eater, so we can count that out. The only thing that hints of square-ness at this meal is the box of Cocoa Puffs itself, but I'm not eating the box, so it doesn't count.

I think this is a great example of how one could go about daily life, surviving on nothing but three hearty "round" meals a day. Cocoa Puffs. The breakfast of champions.

I actually had Reese's Puffs for breakfast, but the same concept still applies, wanker. Back off.

I'm kind of a big deal.

Today was a good day. I didn't do a freakin' thing all morning long, tanned but didn't burn crispy-like, had a great hair day and work was good. It's Naked Juice day, meaning that I can pick up my case of juice from the ice cream store. I love juice day. This week it's Blue Machine. Last week it was Green Machine. I don't know what next week will be but I have to decide by Monday. Do you see the kinds of pressure I face? Each bottle contains one pound of fruit and all the goodness that goes along with fruit, which means that I don't have to actually peel a banana or pick kiwi seeds out of my teeth. However, I continue to purchase bananas and kiwis because I have a lonely Longaberger fruit basket that probably cost me $80 and it looks pretty stupid sitting empty. That and bottles of Naked juice just don't look as nice in it.

Tomorrow is test day in Stats. I'm hoping Nazi test bitch, oops, Professor S., will have a lapse in memory and fail to remember that I'm a second round Stats student and some of the questions will be repeats. I need to try to find the first test, as well as the second test; I have a feeling they will really help me through the third. I haven't actively participated in school for over a month. I don't know what my problem is. I don't know if I'm yearning to fail or if I am suffering from a serious mental defect. (I could argue several ways on that point. You probably could too, but this is my blogger and not your blogger and I kindly invite you to shut the hell up.) It could just be that I am a WANKER.

Our weekend in DFW is all but confirmed. As a D2 passenger, you're never really confirmed, but we're as close as we can be. I'll be heading out April 29, a Saturday, and returning April 30, for my lovely 1330 shift in hell. It's not really hell, but I bet it is when you're hungover as shit. And that's my plan. Because Sue and I can drink for days, and Dolly will drink until she's literally under the damn table. There's no competition there, she's not drinking anyone under the table, she just happens to end up there. Don't know why. Regardless, should be entertaining. Thankfully it is tax refund and school money month, as drinking for days is expensive and I still haven't been able to find my paycheck. It's off in Direct Deposit-land somewhere, they say it should arrive sometime this week. That would be nice.

Look at this picture. This cracks me up. I want a bunny like this. Actually, I want anything with such cute little (I say little rhetorically, of course) paws. This last weekend was Easter and I didn't get squat. Now, granted, I realize I am 26 years old, but this is the first time I've been over looked by the Easter Bunny.

In fact, the Bunny screwed the whole damn family. Craig called to bum peanut butter eggs from me and to see if I got a basket, becuase he didn't get one either. I'd have been pissed if he'd gotten one and I didn't. I know Jordy didn't get one, he's never the favorite kid. Now, if live-in son Greg got a freakin' Easter basket, there's going to be a full size Easter revolt on Mom's hands. It won't be pretty. Especially now that you can't even get those giant size Reese's peanut butter easter eggs anymore, and those are my all time, forever easter favorite.

Not that we need any more candy. I think dh Earache has left the same icky jellybeans in the gumball machine for nearly two years. If I could just figure out a way to fit the Girl Scout cookies in the gumball machine and charge him for them, they'd last a whole lot longer. Not going to happen anytime soon, but sounds neat all the same.

My cavity is freakin' killing me. I can see into the bottom of my jaw, practically. It's a giant black void of tooth, a black hole. I could lose my toothbrush or my cell phone in there if I'm not careful. I don't plan on it, but you never know. Stranger things have happened.

I think that's all. I need to go play Sudoku. It's calling my name. Peas out, bitches.

And that's that.

I told him I wasn't happy, that I don't like the way things are going and I don't know how to fix it. We don't feel like "us" any more and we haven't for a long, long time. He didn't say a lot, laughed when I told him I don't know where to start, and got up when I started to cry.

I can't say I didn't warn him.

Wanker!

I didn't go back to bed. I realized why I'm not getting my paychecks, and really it has nothing to do with giving away all my hours at work. We sign up for direct deposit online, and I entered my checking account info incorrectly. I am such a wanker. And today being Good Friday, well, there's no way to get in touch with payroll. So, at least until Monday, I remain poor. Hopefully, the Tax Refund Fairy will make an appearance sometime soon.

I think wanker is the most underused word in the English language, at least in the lower 48. I know that it's more popular across the pond (in both directions, really). But I didn't know that in addition to acting like a general wanker, I could write like one as well. Fun facts for cocktail parties. That hottie from Oz that is no longer welcome here due to his inability to conceal his inebriated condition (at least behind the wheel of a car) used to say wanker all the time. It was so fucking cute. It's not me that won't allow him back, by far. It's the government. It's like that scene in the Big Lebowski: "Stay outta Malibu Lebowski!" But I don't think anyone threw a coffee cup at his forehead. I hope not, it was a cute forehead. Damn the man. Save the Empire.

I have a wicked cavity. I believe that each and every Cocoa Puff I eat falls into this black hole void of a cavity I have and eats further and further into my jaw, so far that eventually it will make it's way back around my head and into my brain. But do I stop eating Cocoa Puffs? No, as I am cuckoo for them. Wanker.

I must work today, but I'm in no mood. Weird things are going on at the station. Leads are pissy. Subordinates are pissy. Passengers are pissy. Flights are full. Warm weather brings thunderstorms and delays and cancellations and more pissed off people and the circle goes round and round and round and round. For what I'm making, it's not worth it. In about a month - oh holy hell, a month from today - I'll get a neat-o 50-cent raise. Rock on!

I forgot to drop my money last week, and while I realize this is a serious problem, it's not an offense punishable by public humilation or flogging. But ever since, I've been treated like the village idiot and I don't think it's that big a deal, especially since 1) the money was recovered - no harm, no foul; and 2) it was $25 lousy dollars. I would have replaced it myself if I had needed to. They make mountains out of molehills and reduce flaming emergencies to nothing. We're all so out to protect our own asses that no one is seeing the big picture. I like my job, but I don't like it well enough to be treated like shit. At least for an extended period of time. There are so many little cliques it's disgusting, and if you're not kissing the right ass, no favor goes unpunished. I guess that must be how the real world works...?

So the dh came home the other night. Things have been pleasant since then, but I have to admit my head is in the clouds. I can't come down off my personal plateau and get back into the swing of coupledom. I'm all for me and none for us lately, and it will be the bullet that kills my marriage. I don't know how to fix it.

The shindig that's planned for the end of the month in DFW is certainly not helping matters much. Sue and I, as well as the always invisible Ms. MSN have extended invitations to others, such as City Kevin and Country Kevin and Buff Jeff, as well as the other from MKE, in addition to the recently silent KOA Misty and Reba, who we believe is gallavanting somewhere near TPA with a "friend." Our attitudish pal Tihana from Albany may make an appearance, but she's a lot of talk and not so much walk. Most likely, it will end up being the three of us, perhaps City Kevin, only because he's dying to meet Ms. MSN, and of course, RRRRRRuben! Ruben told us that because we were students, he couldn't party with us the times were were in Dallas before. But now that we are no longer students, he told us to look him up whenever we come down. Too cute. I'm torn on the Ruben being gay issue; he's too adorable - I'd like to believe that he's not, but he does dress awfully well. There is a rumor going around that he's spending an awful lot of time with a former student in LaCrosse... a former female student...

But what would I do if the other were to arrive? I have no freaking clue. The entire prospect freaks me out, because I don't know that I can trust myself. The only thing that I can rely on is his ability to control himself in that situation, should the situation arise. That's awful. I'm such a wanker.

Bonjour mon ami...

Do you think the mafia gives out job applications? That could be an interesting line of work. I hear it pays well, although there is a serious risk of bodily harm. Hmmm....

I am soooo tired this morning and I don't know why. I think I'll go back to bed and get up in an hour or so and try again.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood...

...a beautiful day in the neighborhood, won't you be mine, won't you be mine, won't you be mine, won't you be my neighbor?

It's going to be an absolutely amazing day today, and you know what I have to do? Well, technically, nothing. But I need to pay bills and do homework. Will I do it? Hmmm... I've been putting that off for a good two and a half weeks, and the homework has been calling my name for over a month. I just have no ambition lately.

No, I can't even say that's really the case, because I have all sorts of ambition for things that I can't talk about freely. I watched a segment on the Today show yesterday that talked about adults keeping secrets and how in some cases that can be healthy. It gets to be unhealthy when it starts to control your life and you start to be deceitful in order to conceal your secrets. Food for thought.


Yankee Stadium will be closing in the next couple years, at least the old, historical Yankee Stadium. We've got to get to New York. I've got to see Kyle Farnsworth in pinstripes once again, and if it can't be done at Wrigley, *old* Yankee Stadium is the next best place. That, and who wouldn't love to see a cleanly shorn Johnny Damon? Ooh, ooh, ooh.... :P

My pal Sue is bugging me to come to Dallas at the end of the month, for a reunion of sorts. I wonder who all will be there? Apparently Ms. Dolly Madison will make an appearance on her way to Hawaii, which could be fun. Dolly is a good time, but if I know Dolly and Sue, this will end up being at least a two-day trip due to my own inability to think clearly the following morning. Could be interesting.

That was so third-world.

Just spent an hour and a half sitting in the dark, thanks to a fantastic lightning storm. I couldn't even find a flashlight so I risked life and limb lighting candles in the dark. Now I know why it's such a hazard to leave my slippas right in the middle of the hallway. No worries, we're back up and running, mate. Thank god, it's hard to play Sudoku in candlelight.

Are all old people full of crap?

Does it happen to everyone, that when you reach a certain age, a certain threshold, you suddenly run out of actual things to discuss with others and instead begin discussing random meaningless shit? It's Tuesday, second job day, and I'm sitting in my glass cubicle, surrounded by old men talking nothing but meaningless shit. Is it a form of communication for the older generation? Is there an underlying code that I'm obviously not picking up on? It doesn't sound like they're speaking in tongues, but you can't be too sure.

I once went to a church where they spoke in tongues, that was some scary poo.

I found my all-time favorite South Park on YouTube last night, amid drinking an entire bottle of wine. Cripple Fight. Cracks me up every time. Heh heh heh... My other favorite episode is when they adopt the Ethiopian. "That's my Ethiopian!"

Cripple Fight

More Chuck...

The facts, from Chuck himself...

Chuck cracks me up...

Kudos to thehotlibrarian.

Little ol' me...

...all alone in this big house for the next few days while dh travels for business. It's kind of a relief, in an odd way. No pressure. I can revel in my own little world until he gets back, drink loads of wine and watch movies until dawn, and then when he returns, I can decide what kind of mood I want to be in. Lately I've been mega-bitch, terror to all in my path. It's almost been subconcious, and not limited to those at home, let me reassure. I ought to issue a blanket apology if only I accepted those myself. Shucks.

As far as the other, well, there was a period of none, and then some, and now plenty. He seemed not at all interested. Then I offered some clarification, and now we're sort of back where we started. He's available and interested, and I'm not available and interested. What a pickle. My feelings haven't changed, and with every message, I want to know more and more. I know there's no perfect person, but what if there's a person that's better for me? Is there an easy way to find that out?

This is my new Coach bag. It freaking rocks. I got the wallet to go with it. It makes me beautiful. I mean, I was gorgeous anyway, but a great bag always helps. :)

I got back from Chicago on Friday. I had to go for ramp training, me and another girl from my station. I thought for sure she was quiet, laid back, someone I could get along with. I was dead fucking wrong. We work for an airline - she's afraid of flying. I don't mean moderately afraid, "seat me over a wing" type afraid. I mean, she's the kind that needs to be sedated in order travel. Now I figured she'd be quiet - I was so wrong. This chick would not shut up to save her life. She talked for four straight days. That and she followed me around, like a little lost groupie. I went to the bathroom, she followed. I went to the credit union, she followed, still talking. Everywhere. It was awful. She's also one of those spineless, "I have to call my husband" women - she has to check in and make sure that what she's doing is okay. I hate that.

The kicker to the whole thing is that she weighs about 350 pounds, no joke, so when we're on our way home, I had to assist in strapping her in her seat. Now, she's too proud to ask for a seat belt extension (where this came from, I don't know, because she's been fat the entire trip). So instead, she heaves up a part of her stomach that I don't think should move and she tucks it under her chin so that I can buckle her seat belt. I nearly puked. I'm thinking she ought to be motionless at this point, but Groupie's hand to mouth reflex is still working pretty well, so she asks me to reach for her Gardetto's, under the seat in front of her. There's no way she can reach them, she looks like a giant watermelon wrapped in a teeny-weeny taco shell. So I oblige, I'm far too nice a person. So there we sit. She's sweating like a pig, because 1) she's on a plane, and 2) it's a turbulant flight, but she's still eating. I've managed to find my ipod and at the first 0.047 second lull in the conversation, I stick in my headphones and drone her out. (Side note: my battery dies about 15 minutes into our 90 minute ATC delay before we even took off, but I never said a word and I certainly wasn't going to let on to Groupie.) So finally, we're airborne. I thought perhaps, just perhaps, the situation would improve, but no, it gets worse. Now, every time we hit even the slightest of bumps, she grabs my hand with her ham-shaped arm and pins it to the armrest between us. I'm covered in fat lady sweat and Gardetto's juice. I would have asked for a beer if they'd been serving drinks, but due to turbulance, I was out of luck. I couldn't get home and bathe fast enough.