Bajonista

2011-10-06T14:27:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading the interview by Christopher Bollen with Michael Stipe. I have always admired Michael Stipe and R.E.M. Their albums have been the soundtrack to my childhood. Some of my very earliest memories have R.E.M. playing in the background: I danced around with my daddy in the living room of our house in San Antonio; I blasted Monster from our new stereo when I was 10; we listened to them on our many family road trips... Goodness, as often as we listened to it while driving to and fro during the holidays, Automatic for the People may as well be a Christmas album. So with that in mind, it's very appropriate that R.E.M. is breaking up as I end my adolescence (as much as it pains me to admit that I am 25 and only just now leaving adolescence).

Stipe's candidness was striking after so many years of public reticence. He readily admits his shyness, and considers becoming a singer for a band "the most courageous thing" he ever did. The early "mumbling" delivery style that he was so famous for using is an example of how afraid he was to open up. I was really struck by that, because I too feel so fearful of that vulnerability.

So even though he will never see this, or know that this insignificant person feels this way about him, I just wanted to thank Michael Stipe for finding it within himself to open himself up to us.

Outside Scope

2010-11-01T23:43:00.000-07:00

I really need to reconsider how I feel about myself. So much of how I think of myself comes from outside. I crave outside validation in a terrible, messed up way.

I realize there is no real reason for me to feel this way. Rationally I know I'm fine, that I'm attractive, funny and intelligent; it just doesn't hold up to how I feel emotionally about myself. So then I try too hard, and lose what external validation is coming my way.

I feel kinda nuts.

Thoughts on Loss

2010-10-22T11:06:00.000-07:00

It's funny how your brain needs to reorganize your thoughts when something big in your life changes.

When my Pap Paw died in September it took me several weeks to realize that he was really gone. I had to re-frame everything about parts of my life. At breakfast, lunch and dinner I would remember and grieve. I would think of summer and think, "I'll have black-eyed peas and fresh corn from the garden," and then suddenly have to remember that he was gone... A sale on Bluebell sparked the usual thought of "If Pap Paw sees this he'll buy all 5!" Each time I would have to remind myself, "No, he's gone. That is over now."

The same is with when you break up with someone. You have to go through each part of your mind and re-label "boyfriend" as something else; he is now ex-boyfriend, my ex, or just his name. I run across things and think "I'll have to show/do that with/talk about it with him... shit."

I wonder if my brain is physically re-organizing itself, growing new paths, forcibly pruning the incorrect ones. Maybe that's why it's so hard.

RE: Letter to Me from My Stomach

2010-10-21T06:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Stomach,

You can pretend that we've gotten along fairly well, but you're fooling yourself.

In reference to "the time I made you throw up in front of everyone in school," that was one time? It wasn't every day? Really?

You're just too sensitive. A piece of lettuce in pudding does not make normal stomachs turn themselves inside-out and throw everything on the ground in panic.

If I wasn't in a committed relationship I would divorce you.

Hannah

Letter to Me From My Stomach

2010-10-21T05:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Hannah,

I know that in the past we have gotten along fairly well. We've had some upsets (like the time I made you throw up in front of everyone in school) but we've had our good times too.

I just wanted to let you know that while you enjoyed drinking $1 doubles that nice man bought you (3 of them, you should write your liver a thank you note) following it up with frozen yogurt was disrespectful. Like, you know I don't like that, and you throw it on top of liquor? You repugnant bitch.

So, enjoy all the passive-aggressive signals I'll be sending you for the next few hours.

Sincerely,

Your Stomach

Stress

2008-10-01T19:45:00.001-07:00

I feel like too little butter stretched over too much bread.

The good news is that I can probably go study abroad this summer in Germany. That way I can go abroad, which is always nice, and knock out my last two Foreign Language classes in one summer school session.

If I did that I would have Maymester free to do a communication credit and the Summer II session free so that I could take Elementary Statistics at NCTC.

Graduation is so close but so far away.

But first this semester:

SAI Recital
SAI Initiation
Finish poster project in Counseling
Interview two counselors in the community and write a paper about it for Counseling
Keep up with studying German, reading for Psychology of Sexuality, Quantitative Methods, Psychology II, and homework for German and Quantitative Methods.
Keep losing weight.
Keep up with housework and chores.
Get Out The Vote on UNT campus.
Plan for Obamanite.
Work enough every week to feed myself.
Go to class.

I really don't understand how people keep their sanity if they work, go to school, and have kids. It completely blows my mind.

Things not to do in the lab

2008-10-01T19:26:00.000-07:00

Answer the question "Mac or PC" with "I don't care," and then come back 10 seconds after I check you into a Mac and ask for a PC. Dumb.

Giggle as you try to smuggle a can of Dr. Pepper into the lab. I can see you asshole. I'm not retarded, but you obviously are.

Stare at my ass while I'm fixing your computer.

Stare at my boobs while I'm checking you into a computer.

Give me sass when I tell you to get out of the classroom after your class is over.

Act like you're special because you're a senior CommDesign major or Interior Design major. Or whatever major because you aren't special, period.

Get pissed when there is a line for the CommDesign plotters, insist that you be switched to the Interior Design plotters, throw a hissy fit to my boss when we don't let you break the rules, have him tell you that you can use then, AND THEN decide that, yes, they're shitty, that's why you get better ones, and try to get to the front of the line for the CommDesign plotter because you're "in a hurry."

Mock lab patrons to their face if you are an employee of the lab. You're supposed to do that behind their backs. Duh.

Print word documents not containing color pictures on the color printer, and then complain when your ink is dark purple.

Leave without telling us which computer you were using and then get pissed when we yell after you to tell us whether you were checking out or taking a break

Raise your hand when you need attention during a busy time, without vocalizing your need for assistance and you are out of our direct line of sight. Of course we won't see you.

Whispering while the printer behind the desk is churning out pages as loudly as it can. We can't here you back here.

Move to a different computer, without telling us, when your computer has an issue or *gasp* it's an iMac on the formerly PC side of the classroom.

Stay 15 minutes after closing, then after I politely ask you to get out, and that I have to be back at 7:30 AM to open, say "Well I have to be up earlier than that." and then leave in a huff without even thanking me for the extra time and my loss of sleep. Rude.

Having No Social Life is Taking It's Toll

2008-09-10T20:53:00.000-07:00

I think I'm losing it. I talk to random people, and feel satisfied for a brief time.

I feel like a Sim, with a bar for "Social" floating over my head. I need one of these.

Inward Compulsion

2008-09-04T20:49:00.000-07:00

I've been really striving to be a more honest, better person lately.

Little things:

Like not snagging a Mac remote from work (I want one for my iPod dock, turns out I wouldn't have even been able to use it with my version of iPod, so much the better) or a screen cloth

Waking up in time for work and getting there early

Actually working dilligently in the lab, even when my lab partner is goofing off

After realizing that I left work early accidentally, I went back, even though I was stressed out and just wanted to get the hell out of there

I was going to skip class the other day. I stayed up too late last night and almost fell back into my old ways. I was totally going to crash and sleep through class, and also skip SAI. I didn't. I went to class, and I'm glad that I did. It wasn't really a conscious decision to change my mind, I just got up, made a quick dinner and was on my way.

On the way back from class I also didn't stop into a restaurant and have a bite to eat, even though it was oh-so-tempting.

Tuesday Morning in the Lab

2008-09-03T17:35:00.000-07:00

Tuesday morning I was minding my own business, checking people in and out of the lab, helping them print, dealing with the fact that Mac OSX is down on the "Mac" side of the room and trying to let biatchy comments from whiny Comm Design majors roll off my back, when out of the blue someone did something that made me question humanity.

Let me put this into context. I like people. Alot. This is why I took the job at the computer lab. I like people and I like computers. Yay! Right? Not so much. As much as I used to biatch at Irish Sean for hating people while he worked at Exxon I'm starting to feel his pain. I had been out of the service industry for the past few years. I remember how asinine the people were at Target, and for some strange crackballed reason I thought that since I was dealing with college students that they would be able to do simple things on the computer. Not so much.

This guy comes in and when asked the usual question "Mac or Pc?" his reply was "Uh, a regular computer I guess. I don't even know what a Mac is. I just want to print something." I have learned in the past few weeks that "I want to use a relgular computer" is a good cue for me to realize that they don't know what the hell they're doing with computers or just life in general.

He comes back after about 30 seconds with a question. "Are the flash drive hole thingies not working on these computers? I peeled the black tape over the hole in the front to stick my memory stick into. Why won't it work?"
Assuming that he means "USB port" instead of "Durr, durr, durr! I'm retarded!" I say, "Yes, the USB drives in the back of the computer work."
"Yeah. I peeled that black tape off."

I'm starting to get really annoyed at this point because there is a very good reason we put black electrical tape on the USB drives on the front of those computers: they don't work. We also have a nice little slip of paper conveniently saying "Thumb Drives can be inserted into the BACK of the computer." This cute little piece of paper is lovingly taped RIGHT OVER THE USB DRIVE IN QUESTION. People often ignore it. This is one of the many reasons that I hate them.

I say, "Yes, there is a sign posted saying that the 'hole' won't work. You'll have to use the back of the computer."
"I peeled the tape off."
"The tape is there for a reason. Use the back of the computer."
Blank stare.

At this point my lab monitor cohort, Dave, tries to help. "Look on the back of the computer," he says, "you can plug your thumb drive into that."
"What?"
"The back of the computer," the remarkably patient Dave said while indicating with his hands the "front" of the computer and the "back of the computer.
"What's that?"
"The back of the computer," Dave says beginning to be irritated. At this point people are staring at us.
"I don't know what you mean. You'll have to show me."
"Okay, let's go," says Dave.

They walk over to the computer. Dave points at the back of the computer and only receives a blank stare in return. Dave shows him where to put his thumb drive.

Dave returns, supressing a giggle, he says, "I still don't think he knows what the hell just happened." Usually Dave is pretty short with the kids that get up to the dumbassery in the lab, but I think this level of stupidity just knocked him off-guard.Or maybe it was pity that allowed him to show such kindness. I have no idea.

All I know is that I was shaking with supressed laughter at this point. It hurt to hold it in and tight little squealing giggles were escaping.

I'm pretty sure I'll never recover.

List of Things That Amuse Me (That Probably Shouldn't)

2008-09-02T21:48:00.000-07:00

1.) This Video
It's video of a turtle set over audio from a guy bitching about his life in Michigan and fat people.
My friend made it while he was high. Need I say more.

2.)Sitting up until ungodly hours in Bruce Lobby.
At about 3 AM the conversations take a turn for the fucked-up. They tend to be intelligent, but seriously silly at the same time. For example: we postulated that our friend Scott was indestructible and immortal. We realized that the absolute power of his position would corrupt him, and he would have to be punished. Since he was indestructible and immortal the only real answer was to shoot him into the center of the sun. At about 4:00AM we decided that since Scott was indestructible, so too must his semen be indestructible as well. So every time the guy ejaculated many, many women in a radius around him would become pregnant with his immortal and indestructable children. They would eventually form a human chain to the sun and rescue their biological father. The End.

3.) The formatting on the above text.
Hilarious, right?

4.) I "collect" woman jokes and dead baby jokes.

5.) I think it is funny that 4chan has spread to my hometown.
I also hate the anchor that begins that video, because he's a tool. I think the Pool's Closed meme is pretty funny. Also, the theme for this newscast made me giggle.

McCain Pics Palin as VP and Why This Choice is Idiotic

2008-09-01T10:45:00.000-07:00

1.) She has been governor of Alaska, and before that mayor of a tiny town.
McCain just killed his "experience" card.

2.) She is a woman that opposes women's rights. Equal pay for equal work? Nope. Non-abstinence sex education? Nope. A woman's right to choose? Nope.
Any Hillary supporters McCain hoped to draw should be horrified and insulted that they are asked to vote for this woman.

3.) She is mired in ethics investigations, and is currently being investigated by the Alaskan Legislature.
Troopergate. Hysterical.

4.) Her husband works for BP and she doesn't acknowledge man-made climate change. She also opposed the addition of the Polar Bear to the Endangered Species Act.
Conflict of interest anyone? I'd be happy to finally have a VP that isn't entangled in Big Oil for a change.

5.) Her daughter, Bristol, is a 17 year-old pregnant mother.
Oops. Abstinence education really works, right? Right? *crickets*

Sarah Palin is the wrong person for the job. I have no idea what you were thinking John McCain.

Clowns to the Left of Me, Jokers on my Right, Here I am...

2008-07-29T16:22:00.000-07:00

stuck in the middle with you*.

I hate it when two friends break up with each other.

When two people that were once considered a cohesive unit split apart. Most especially after it gets to the point that their names stick to each other, like iron and a magnet, and it's difficult to say one name without the other. Soon I will say their names together, attracted like positive and negative, for the last time, and it will be while giving someone the news that they, as a collective of two people, are over.

Right now I'm worried for both of them. Completely split. And for one reason or another they're both jokers and they're both clowns. I'm in the middle, worried that one or both of our relationships will be sacrificed, or shaved down* as a result.

Joker was an aquaintance before she dated Clown, and we only became close friends after they were a couple. Clown I became friends with as a result me becoming closer to Joker, but we would have become friends on our own. For awhile I was their go-to third wheel. Looking back, I don't know if I was just an unconcious wedge to keep them apart during those moments. To keep them from being intimate, fighting, alone and completely wrapped up in their relationship. Only, I think I just got wrapped up in their relationship with the both of them.

There is entirely too much "I" in this post. I know. I can't express my worry for both of them any more than saying "I'm worried for both of them, equally, and in different ways," because of this medium. I don't air my greviences toward other people online anymore, and I certainly don't air other people's.

*I could have made a Resovoir Dogs reference here, but I'm classier than that. Which is probably entirely negated by the fact that I added this asterisk. Shit. They both feel like they cut off their own ear. Van Gough references are classier than Terantino, right?

Why I Need a Stiff Drink, how I Always fall into Thorns, and how I Learned to Stop Worrying and Learn to Love the U-haul.

2008-07-28T16:56:00.000-07:00

Ok. So I've been living in my friend's apartment while she's in Paris on the condition that I move her out before August 1st, since she'll still be abroad then. Fair enough, not a big deal at all.

I was under the impression that her dad was getting a moving truck for a few days so that I could load up everything and move it to the storage shed for them.

Since it would be several days, and since nobody in town was off at 10:00 this morning to give me a ride when I needed to go to U-haul, I decided to get up earlyish (early for me, anyway) and walk to the store. It's about a mile and a half, no biggie, right? I live on Teasley, and the U-haul store is on Ft. Worth. I would just walk up beside the access road to Ft. Worth and cut under the overpass and I'd be right there. I totally forgot that U-haul was halfway between Teasley and Ft. Worth Drive. I totally forgot about the train tracks that go under I-35.

I had to walk down the embankment and cross the train tracks and the right-of-way not once, but twice, because I am a dumbass. The second time the embankment was covered in thorny bracken. In some places you couldn't even see over the top, the thorns had grown so thick they made a hedge of pointy pain and vines.

I finally saw a path, with a complete clearing and I got about halfway up before I noticed that there was a tent. Not only one tent, but several tents made from bits of tarp and cardboard. I had found a homeless village by the railroad tracks. Maybe if I were Jack Kerouac I would have been more thrilled. However, I am not, nor have I ever been a beat poet and roustabout, so I turned around like any sensible girl would and tried to find a different way.

I found a somewhat promising path, and figured that with a few stomps here and there I'd come through relatively unscathed. Of course I tripped mid-stomp and ended up completely tangled up in thorns. I was about 20 yards away from hobo-ville so I was too afraid to even cry or curse loudly. (I wanted to do both!) I carefully picked myself up and got over the top without further incident, and behold! U-haul!

I went inside at exactly 9:55 AM, covered in dirt, scratches, leaves and burrs, probably looking homeless myself, and went to get my U-haul truck for the week. "Ok, have it back by 5:00 today," the helpful and oh-so-happy to see me clerk told me.

Crap.

So I called the only two friends available today, and we moved my friend's dresser, entertainment center, sectional couch, two recliners, bed, mattress, and dining room chairs to the storage shed. Tetris was involved.

It's 6:42 now and I still haven't had anything to eat.

Fuck adventures. I need a stiff drink. I'm thinking Colt 45, or maybe Boonesfarm.

It's a small, small world

2008-07-09T16:02:00.000-07:00

I got to talking to a buddy of mine (who is dating a good friend of mine, that's how we met) who is a metalsmith and into Rennaissance Re-enacting and those martial arts, and it turns out that he's into Civil War re-enacting. Since the re-enacting thing is a pretty small world, he knows my dad by association. Weird, huh?

I really wish that I could somehow muster in and do all the cool stuff that my buddy and my dad get to do, but alas, my father's outfit is very historical (which is something to be proud of) and I would have to be able to pass muster as a male. Two problems with that: 1) I am female and I look very female 2) I grew up around these guys, my dad was their captain for crying out loud, even if I did look somewhat masculine they know who I am.

I would like to do the "living history" stuff, but since I'm female I would get to sit on the porch in a chemise, pantalettes, corset, crinoline and dress, wearing gloves and a big hat, while delicately fanning myself. Uh, no. Not fun.

NaBloPoMo and Weight Loss

2008-07-08T14:26:00.000-07:00

That's right, in August I will be NaBloPoMo ing. I also joined BlogHer, but I dunno how that's supposed to work, whatever.

Basically I want strangers to read my blog, but not people I know, because I like to write about them, somewhat abstractly. I don't really write about people I know aaaaall that much. Sometimes I mention something about boyfriend or an acquaintance, but other than that, nope. I already did that "blog drama" shiz before and I'm not going there again. It's immature, and if you want to make amends, well, sorry, you put that shit out there on the internet like a bitch, and it's pretty much out there in some form or another, forever.

I'm about to get back onto the diet bandwagon hardcore style. I've been losing weight, but I haven't been as... strict as I should be. Thank you boyfriend and his hating-eating-in-late-at-night deal, but whatever, it's my fault too. I just bought a bunch of groceries and I have some vague plans on making soup. I have pork and beef, because I'm f*cking tired of f*cking chicken. I have one breast left over, and faced with the prospect of actually throwing it into the frying pan, I proceeded to toss it into the freezer.

I am also going to Wally World after work today and picking up some 10 lb weights and an exercise ball, maybe a Pilates DVD or something. I dunno. I want to be toned, and also speed up my weight loss. Free weights is something I can do, and crunches on a ball. Pilates is fun. I know if I say to myself "I will run in that nice park a block away from where you live." I will just make excuses and not do it. (Some of them are valid such as: "I don't want to be raped." and "It's really f*cking hot." Others? Not so much. "I hate running." and "I'd rather just read Fark." stand out amongst that crowd.)

Screen names

2008-07-07T14:18:00.000-07:00

I'm going to rant now about the practice of moms choosing screennames based on their kid's name and their motherhood.

I'm glad that you're so happy being a mother. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, however, making motherhood the whole sum of your identity bothers me. Maybe it's a late-in-life mother thing. All those 40 year olds that waited to have kids until it was almost too late, or the ones that changed their mind when they were in their late 30's and decided they wanted to have a child after all.

Now, it may sound hypocritical for me to chastise someone else for their choice in how they want to live their lives and shape their identity. I just think it's harmful on the personal level as well as for the family dynamic. Investing so much of yourself into your child that you sacrifice everything, including your self-identity is almost as harmful as investing nothing. Look at it this way: if you give up on your personal needs you start to project them on your progeny in order to make up for that sacrifice. In comes the Vicarious Mothers.

Living vicariously through your offspring is probably a combination of a mixture of factors, including boredom and personal frustration. "I had to give up being a ____ so I could have this life and be a good mother, so you're going to do what I could never do." That's hardly a healthy way to raise a kid.

So what's next Alismom, Martasmom and Clintonsmom? Are you going to name yourselves Wifeoffred and Wifeofmatthew online now? And how come we don't see men naming themselves Franksdad and Alisdad? Why just the women? It disturbs me that we can so easily fall back into that kind of thinking in this day and age.

*See also: your baby as profile picture, engagement ring as facebook profile picture

I fixed it...

2008-07-04T01:54:00.001-07:00

The network at home I mean. I am awesome. At googling I mean.

I can't understand how my family fails at google. How about googling "linksys wireless network configure" and going from there? But nooooo... They wait for me to do it. It's nice to be wanted, but at this point I wish they would teach themselves how to fish.

Tomorrow is the 4th of July Extravagansa Celebration for the Greatest, Best Nation, God Has Created on the Face of This Earth.

Cake makes me want to get married

2008-07-02T15:02:00.000-07:00

I've been obsessing about Deb's saga over at SmittenKitchen.com

She is baking a wedding cake for a friend. The top two tiers are a buttermilk yellow cake with mango curd between the layers (three cakes for each tier!) and the bottom layer is a decadent chocolate/cinnamon/coffee cake with brandied ganache between the layers, all covered by a beautiful white (hopefully Swiss buttercream, if she can get over her "issues" with it) icing and decorated with flowers.

The pictures are beautiful, and I'm completely jealous of all the guests going to that wedding. Deb is making her friend a handsome gift.

All this makes me want to get married, which is terrible. I made the mistake of picking up Martha Stewart's Wedding Cakes book one time at Barnes and Noble, and I watch Ace of Cakes regularly on Food Network. All of that, and this blogger saga makes me want to get married, not because I really love the guy I'm with (which I do) not because I'm ready to grow up and start a family (which I'm not) and not because I'm committed to being a part of a marital relationship (which I am certainly not), but merely for the amazing, beautiful and decadent cake that will be at my wedding reception. Sorry mom.

Diamonds are forever. So is scoliosis.

2008-06-27T14:18:00.001-07:00

Recently one of my Fraternity sisters got engaged. The very next day she posted the requisite picture of the engagement ring.

Also, the box that it came in had a light in the top so that you can see the shiny shiny diamond inside. Nice touch. Because I'm sure if he hadn't included that light she'd have said no. He'd have gone down on one knee and opened the box, and she'd look down and say "It's night time. I can't see the shiny. My answer is no."

Really though, they're a sweet couple and I wish them the best. They've been together for awhile and they're moving on with their lives together. Awesome.

This whole thing (in addition to this article) just sort of reminds my of my own stance on diamonds.
No. I've never seen Blood Diamond. I intend to eventually. I've felt this way since my World History teacher sophomore year of high school talked about why she doesn't wear her diamond ring.

Many of them are "blood diamonds" and almost all of them are mined by children. Think about that every time you look at your rock. Children.

The cheapest way to get diamonds out of the earth is strip-mining which is terrible for the environment. The processing requires the use of resources (especially water) that would be better served growing crops, or pretty much anything else.

DeBeers is a cartel that set the demand and artificially set the prices. They control all the mines and they have warehouses full of diamonds that they carefully monitor. Carbon is the most common element, so it stands to reason that diamonds are extremely common. They're extremely overpriced rocks.

In addition to all this, it is now possible to grow diamonds in a lab. Perfect diamonds, in any color you want. Of course DeBeers is on top of that because of course lab-grown diamonds mean that you appreciate and love that woman less because your feeling is as artificial as they are. Yeah.

So let me say this: if you love me, if you really, really love me, then you'll either buy me a lab-grown diamond or use the diamond earring my grandmother left me and set it into a ring. Either way, it would be more meaningful to me.

I can never find anything good on Etsy

2008-06-25T15:39:00.000-07:00

I never find anything good on Etsy.

I love the concept, I just don't have the patience needed to sit down and look at all the ugly purses while trying to find the one I actually like. The "search with color" option only finds colors in the photograps of the items, meaning that cerulean blue color I'm looking for is a cloth that the person laid their brick red jewelry on top of in order to take a picture.

I'm addicted to something.

2008-06-12T17:58:00.000-07:00

Umami

Explains alot, actually.

Why "Throwdown with Bobby Flay" is so good...

2008-06-10T21:53:00.000-07:00

I greatly enjoy the Food Network. Ace of Cakes, Paula Deen, especially Alton Brown, and, yes, even Rachael Ray (God help me but that woman is spunky). One thing I cannot stand about the Food Network is that some of their personalities are overbearing. There are very few people on TV or in real life that I would like to cold-cock as a matter of principle, and the Food Network has one of them.

He's arrogant. He's abrasive. He has an annoying voice. He is so smug that he likely sniffs his own farts. No, it is not Anthony Bourdain. I love that man. For him these annoying qualities just work in a television context. And when you just start to get uncomfortable about how much of an ass he is, the producers of No Reservations make him crawl through bat guano. Excellent television.

No, the man that I despise also makes me hate Iron Chef. His smugness offended the Japanese in the original version of the show. The sheer arrogance of the man made me embarrassed to be an American (and I really don't feel that way often). Now that he's the star of the American version... let's just say I avoid the show like the plague.

Yep, I hate Bobby Flay.

If that man ever stepped foot into my kitchen I would probably throw him out on his ear. He can stay the hell away from my BBQ grill too. And I don't even have one.

The reason that I like Throwdown so much is also the reason my dad DVRed the episode of Iron Chef where he loses and watched the last 10 minutes repeatedly: it is so much fun to watch Bobby Flay lose. I'm pretty sure this is why Throwdown is a show in the first place.

Basically the premise of the show is for Flay to travel all over the US challenging various cooks to a "Throwdown" where he takes the basic premise of their dish or recipe and "shakes things up, Bobby Flay style" meaning he adds expensive-ass ingredients to a dish and makes it way too f-ing complicated. He challenged Paula Deen of all people to a chicken fried steak and biscuits and gravy. Of course he lost. Of course it was satisfying. Of course it was AWESOME.

If you enjoy watching an asshole get his nose rubbed in his own shit, then you'll enjoy "Throwdown with Bobby Flay."

(Cue Reading Rainbow book report finale "Du dum DUM!)

Computer Lab Job and "Deep Thoughts"

2008-06-09T14:10:00.000-07:00

I got the computer lab job. Whoo hoo! I was pretty much able to walk in, have him talk to me about the job and when he asked me which hours I had available he hired me on the spot. Turns out he was really worn out and just wanted the position filled.

All of this means that I'll be on the computer for at least 13 hours/ week so I'll have a better, more boring atmosphere to update my blog.

Some "deep thoughts" might occur. Just FYI.

Additionally, Lesser Sean has been doing unspeakable things to Joseph's Jurassic Park pillow while Joseph is out of the apartment. Clancey got chewed out as a result, which made it funny to watch the little Swede try to justify himself.

South Beach Diet and Other Things

2008-05-26T22:34:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if it's the South Beach or a celebrated lack of Sertraline hyrdochloride in my system (Zoloft, it makes you fat, ask your shrink.) but I've lost a little weight. Yay. Dearest boyfriend is pleased, although not as much as I am.

I've moved into an apartment for the summer and it's pretty sweet. The walls I mean. Someone coated them with candy. (Not really, I just need to get out of the habit of describing something positive as "pretty sweet" if the thing I am not describing is not a food product that contains sugars, or small children, as I am neither a surfer nor a jackass.) But yeah, cooking and privacy, not to mention a closet twice the size of the one my that parents share, is a gratifying and somewhat new experience.

I'm reading Elizabeth: The Struggle for the Throne. I guess I'm just like everyone else that has a Tudor fascination lately. I was slightly mollified when I grabbed it off of the display at Barnes & Noble, then I remembered that I'm not a hipster nitwit and just enjoyed my book. The intense focus on her early life is excellent reading, not dry at all, however the author's selective bias in the research bothers a former history major. When the author used "I" the first time I assumed that it was the roman numeral, then I realized that "One believe that..." doesn't make sense, and that David Starkey broke the rules. If I can't use "I" in an essay in college then you can't use it in a supposedly historical book, and a spanking will be in order for the violator!

Milk

2008-05-26T22:21:00.000-07:00

I wish mom and dad had put two and two together and realized that it's not normal to have your kid barf every day, and that maybe there was more to it than a "glass stomach."

Oops

Convention and Anal Retention

2008-04-13T20:57:00.000-07:00

Well I got back today from the annual Texas Young Democrats convention. I've decided that the drive between Dallas and Hillsboro and Waco and Salado are both unbearable. Even more unbearable is the drive between Ft. Worth and Denton. Honestly, I'll take Dallas traffic over getting stir-crazy in my car driving through the middle of nowhere.

Convention was fun. Most of it was coming from young Democrats to other young Democrats, so that was a good time. I saw Boyd Richie speak, which was cool, and got to see a Q&A with some Young Democrat Super delegates.

Richie is a classic Texas politician. I hear him speak and my mind wanders to "Texian Decor" : offices with leather couches, star cut-outs on every lampshade, door handle and table, Texas Monthly and Texas Parks and Wildlife magazines on the table, backroom deals from the office and a glass of liquor to celebrate the deal. That's not really a bad thing, it's just the way it works here. (We wear "being Texan" on our sleeve most of the time, have you ever been to the Capitol? Yeah, and almost every lawmaker's personal office is that way too, I can assure you.) I got to see the big Texas Cheese, and it was cool.

There was a bit of a generational disconnect though. In one session we were encouraged to use facebook and other online social tools to recruit and gather information on potential Young Democrats. In another, the presenter told us to delete our myspace accounts, facebook profiles and stop blogging. Then he joked that it was already too late. Yeah, too late for an entire generation. Eventually people are going to learn to see the internet as a community, and not merely data on other people. Of course we need to not be dumbasses and put extremely personal information online. I don't think other people should know about intimate relationship details, or my address and what type of underwear I wear, either. At least, that's not my thing. I like reading other people's blogs on the subject, of course. But the thing that older people don't realize is, we don't judge other people for having this information online. It's basically accepted by our youth culture. In fact, it defines us as who we are. Differing values for differing generational cultures.

It boils down to the fact that previous generations have a bigger privacy bubble, and a smaller definition of community. They're usually limited to hometown, neighborhood, alma matter, and work for their social needs. I, on the other hand, dated a guy in high school that was from California. I met him through a friend I knew IRL (in real life, another example of change because of the internet), who met another guy through the internet, and then I met California guy through this guy. That wouldn't have happened a few years ago, and not just because of technological advances, but also because of cultural evolution. People were used to knowing the other person's 2nd cousin once removed, and the rest of their genealogical line, going back several generations.

While we are "strangers" in the sense that we can't really trace a bloodline personally, and that can be a discomfort because there is the quality of the unknown, as well as a bit of a risk, but our youth society as a whole is more likely to judge the individual in that way. I don't really care if you're the first person in your family going to college and your "ancestral manse" consists of a lot in a San Marcos, Texas trailer park. I care whether or not you're a nice person or an asshole, intelligent or stupid, whether you have a sense of humor or are a stick in the mud, curious or ignorant, well adjusted or fucked up, responsible or immature... I make those judgments based on what I know of the person, and they do the same for me.

I am fully aware that a person isn't who they are on the internet, and some people, I actually prefer their internet personas. We have time on the internet to process each thought as we type and post. I've probably deleted at least 1/3 of this post as I typed it, trying to most successfully get my point across without sounding like a slavering gibbering asshole. In conversation, especially over the phone, I am not nearly as articulate, but on the intertubes, I am a goddess of intellect with spell check and wikipedia at my side. I'm okay with the concept that people are different people in different contexts. It's just a part of how I grew up, and the experiences that shaped me.

So yes, I will continue to blog. I will continue to monitor my own interpretation of privacy, and to interact in my generation's version of community.

Literature

2008-03-26T15:49:00.000-07:00

I just bought Maus II by Art Art Spiegelman. People are interested until I tell them that it's a graphic novel. "Oh." is usually their response.

"Oh." As in: "Oh, that's a comic book." "Oh, I thought you were smart and read things that were interesting and/or clever." "Oh, I thought you had better things to do with your time." "Oh, I'm going to stop talking to you now because you're a fangirl. Bye!"

Apparently literature has to be bound in leather, smell musty, have little to no pictures or illustrations, and nobody should want to read it.

Maus is a graphic novel. It is literature. Art Spiegelman wrote it about his father's experience in WWII during the Holocaust. The Nazis are cats, the Poles are pigs, the Americans are Dogs and the Jews are mice. Symbolism is cool. It wouldn't have come across as convincingly without the use of the comic medium for sure.

But Maus is not literature, because it has too many pictures.

Wortty Dirds

2008-03-09T22:15:00.000-07:00

Everyone is freaking out at the midterm. People are freaking out about midterms, people are getting into drama, and I'm weary of it. I'm so tired of my own usual stresses that just being around other people's stress is stressing me out.

It's contagious that way.

I'd go into more of the drama crap, but I'm not enough of a bitch to go into it on a public forum, or passive-aggressive enough to do anything else of that kind. Tensions are running high, and feelings are getting hurt right and left. It's a combination of females being females and natural miscommunication. It would play out as an awesome screenplay catfight, lemme tell you.

My hands are chapped. It sucks. The shingles rash itches and aches in turn. I've had to pop a valium or two to keep it from disrupting my sleep, and that's worked so far so that's a blessing.

I've decided that I was freaking out about aperson because she's everything I'm not and everything I wish I could be, or get away with. I'm never going to be petite, overly-attractive, vulnerable, and able to "get around" without people constantly becoming attached or being labeled and disliked as a skank. Never gonna happen, so I may as well get used to it. I still don't like her because of the way she treats me (and everyone else, really), but that's okay. Darling boyfriend says I need to let things roll off my back more, but that's a problem I've always had so it's not going to go away anytime soon.

I'm trying not to curse as much either. I'm attempting to cut down on the "fuck" and "god damn" in my life. It's about 60% effective at this point. I've been dropping f-bombs right and left when I'm pissed, but it's all but eliminated from casual conversation, which is a good start.

Photobooth on Mac is fun. That is all.

Texas Weather is a Moody Bitch

2008-03-05T15:31:00.001-08:00

In like a lion out like a lamb, then in like a lion and out like a lamb...

Eff you, Texas Weather, eff you!

Monday night I had an inch of snow on my car. Today I'm wearing short sleeves and I just saw Leah in shorty shorts. WEIRD!

Also not helping: I have shingles, which is basically chicken pox that has re-activated in my system and is now attacking a nerve cluster along the right side of my body. Grrrrrreat! So I have to use this cream, and a soak and take anti-viral medication like I have herpes or something, which I do, but it's a version of herpes that almost everybody gets. So yea, I guess I'm under some stress or something, huh?

Since I've had so many health problems lately I've decided that I'm probably going to forgo summer school, and probably go home. I have NO IDEA what I'm going to get up to in New Braunfels, but I guess I'll find something interesting to do, somewhere. Basically my plan this summer is to not get fat, or work at Target. How I loathe you, Target. I don't know what's worse, being fat or working at Target. I'm going to have to go for an even tie there. I'll make my mom get me a gym membership and then I'll get all kinds of hot over the summer and try to work somewhere that doesn't suck.

If I get the computer lab job at the end of the semester... then I'll have to try to find something in Denton, because I'll want to. Robin made enough over the summer to stay in an apartment, so I bet I can too. Maybe I'll take a math class at NTCC or something and get that out of the way. A few math classes per week isn't so bad, and I'll have plenty of time to do homework if that's the only class I'm taking. So yea, that's an option.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

Seriously What the Fuck?

2008-02-11T14:09:00.000-08:00

Today in Seriously What the Fuck:

Lesser Sean just told me a story about how his brother is "rock hard" when he passes out drunk. So brother of Lesser had a 3 hr erection and jammed it down his then-girlfriend now-wife's throat, causing her to throw up. Seriously, what the fuck?

My tonsils are the size of golf balls today. I don't have a fever, and they don't particularly hurt. Seriously, what the fuck?

Hillary wants feminists to vote for her, because she's a woman. So much for being egalitarian. Anyway, feminists are upset at her for resting on her husband's laurels, so they're not voting for her anyway. Most of her voters are less educated, older, white women. Yeah.

And chick lit. It pisses me off. I'm starting to see how demeaning it is, and we just lap that shit up. What the hell is wrong with us? Gretchen Wieners I hate you. I hate you with a fiery burning passion for what you've done to literature. What the hell happened to authors like Maya Angelou and Margaret Attwood? Why can't we take a page out of their books, so to speak?

Scott Pump and Jeffing. My love/hate relationship with denizens of Bruce Hall Lobby continues.

Late night musings...

2008-01-03T22:55:00.000-08:00

I think I've developed a crush on Neil Gaiman. Not the physical "I want to tumble around with him awkwardly" sort of crush. More of an intellectual attraction crush. I want to talk to the man. He does sound a bit vain, sometimes, but particularly good writers are particularly known for that kind of thing. I guess maybe because he's "living the dream." Making art and being able to support himself and be considered successful. I have only one reader of my blog (mostly because I try to keep it that way) and my blog is just about as literary as I get these days, much to my mother's chagrin.

I'm frustrated that there are no real female characters of depth in comics. Mostly because 30 year old man-children can't handle it. I understand why basement-dwelling fatsos aren't interested in smart females (they'd only find another reason to reject them) but I still reserve the right to be pissed. If females are there at all they usually have giant breasts (see Power Girl) or wear fishnets (see Zatanna and Black Canary). Dinah has quite a good backstory, actually, but she's mostly depicted as the tantric-sex-having girlfriend and now wife of Green Arrow. Blondes and redheads are of course over-represented. There is a hispanic superheroine, the one that took over as The Question, but aside from being a hot latina lesbian (of course) and a former lover of Bat Woman (who is also an inexplicably hot-but-closeted lipstick lesbian), she's not that interesting. Boys suck. Next thing you know Granny Goodness will come out as a dyke. Of course the dyke would be a supervillianess, right? But I'm jumping ahead of the "boys will be boys" world, aren't I?

In happier news: Obama won the Iowa primary. Thank the lord. I will cry the day a black man is inaugurated. I will cry tears of joy and triumph. My mother says that America is not ready yet for a black man to be President. I think that we're ready for Barack Obama to be President and that it doesn't matter that he's black. It shouldn't matter that he's black. We will elect him as President. We have to.

If I kissed you where you're sore...

2007-12-15T23:14:00.000-08:00

Would you feel better, better, better?

The sunlight was filtered through the windy clouds and through the waving branches of all the trees. Wind is strange in the Hill Country. It whips around all the rocks and the evergreens. The trees here look panicked when they sway with the gusts; it's not their usual experience here, unlike in North Texas where it's commonplace.

But the sun. It was cold in the sunlight, thanks to the wind, and the cold front that came through here along with thunderstorms at dawn. They blew over quickly, headed south, back toward the sea. I think they died down before they got there, but I was too busy listening to the all too rare sound of rain to really care about weather patterns, wind advisories, storm warnings...

It was blue skies and wind today.

The kind of blue skies that make me think of fall. Marching band, but later in the season. I can practically hear the toms echoing in my chest, the trumpets in their distant clumps shrilly trying to outdo each other, my heart swelling with excitement at a new season, a new show. Never again. That's something to mourn.

I also think of a carnival I went to with a neighbor girl.

(We used to be friends when we were young. Casey. I wonder what happened to her. What happened to us? It was never clear; all I remember is the hurt, feeling alone. We were just very, very different. I was cerebral, reading books all the time, watching the news. She read Seventeen, listened to country radio stations, wearing makeup. Now I remember...)

The images are seared into my memory somehow. I went with her family in their station wagon (this was before SUVs hit it big) to some Cajun carnival. We played carnival games, mostly. I shot a cork rifle into a bottle and won 3 pogs with Troy Aikman's face on them. I bought a pair of handcuffs for a dollar. They had real locks and two keys. (I kept them until my sister handcuffed herself to our bunk bed. My dad commandeered them after that. I have a strange suspicion they became a "marital aid" after that.)

The sky was so blue and there were no clouds, unlike today. It was just a big blue upside down bowl above us all the way home. It was hot in the sun, and cold in the shade if you sat still. Casey and I sat in the back of the station wagon. It was hot in the back because of all the sun.

We arrived home, lethargic from the heat. I walked down the street to my house, where Troy Aikman was on TeeVee playing football.

Now in the dark and cold I remember another friend and another friendship that fell apart. This girl and I bonded in one of our advanced classes in high school. She lived close to my house. We walked back and forth from her apartments to my house in the evening after school.

Girl and I were inseparable for months. So much unlike Casey and I... Girl and I, we were both cerebral, but still different. We butted heads. I felt cowed by her superior reasoning and gave way when she pushed back. Coward. I think I began to resent her for it.

But before it starts to sting too much here's a good memory:

Girl and I would walk. There was a park near where we lived, with well defined paths. But no, such paths were not for such as we were. We explored, we took the faint dirt paths, scorning the gravel lined ways, to new discoveries, and fancied ourselves mavericks.

We would talk, and talk on our quest for discovery. One day we followed the marked trail, until one or the other of us got bored and we branched off perpendicular, toward a ravine wall. We climbed, dodging cactus and nettles, sharp flint and slippery limestone along the way, until we reached a ledge just big enough for the two of us to sit facing each other, cross legged.

The sunlight fell through the tree branches all around us, lacy and still without any breeze. That ledge in the Balcones Escarpment was almost like it was made for the two of us, for that moment in the afternoon. She had me spread a tarot for her in the dust and we talked about life, mostly her life. I was perceptive enough to know at that point in time that she was troubled, just like me, and did try to give the best advice that someone could give. Either she didn't listen or my advice was terrible (probably a mixture of both) but she was unhappy still.

We came out of our shared reverie and realized it was dusk. The ground had begun to seep its cold back into our legs. The last few cicadas harshly called to one another, shouting their goodnights. Girl and I saw that it was already dark under the trees and that we didn't have a way to climb back down the limestone. There was only up and so we climbed. It wasn't far, and we came out close to the street. The sun had set. I walked her home in the dusk, and then walked home in the dark.

I've tried to find that ledge, many times. With her and without her, it wasn't to be found again. That time in the shadows is gone forever, but I still remember it fondly.

When Girl and I talked, we talked. We had such conversations... Philosophy, religion, tarot, literature, politics, sexuality, all those things eighteen year olds are fascinated with, don't you know. We were so very important, so very full of ourselves. She was going to rule the world. (I should have sensed trouble when she refused to "give me" Europe. I always argued that it was bullshit, I was her best friend after all. Bah, that argument somehow never got old, even at the very end.)

And too... she was older than I was. Although we lived a block or two away our lives couldn't have been any different socioeconomically, and in some ways culturally as well. She was raised Catholic and I was rediscovering my Quaker heritage. She lived in a small apartment with her mother, her brother, her older sister and her older sister's four kids. I lived in a small house with both my parents (although their marriage was just then falling apart, Girl grew up with the knowledge that her family was dysfunctional at least) and my younger sister. I was a virgin (all talk and very much still afraid of sex) and she was... not. (I envied her that...)

I honestly think she didn't understand my upbringing. I wouldn't go so far as to say she resented it, but she didn't really respect where I was coming from. In many ways she didn't take me seriously (not that I deserved to be taken seriously) and that's probably the most hurtful thing to an eighteen year old.

I remember it well. We were in a restaurant and the topic (of course) turned to sex. I tried to call her on her promiscuity. (I never called her a slut in so many words, but it was implied in the statement. Heavily.) She didn't take it too well. I'd like to say I meant it with only the best of intentions, but to be perfectly honest I wanted to cut her back, in my clumsy way. Did she mean to hurt me? Very few of the cuts she inflicted were intentional on her part, but me being me I counted all of them as hurt, and punishable, therefore.

Unlike with Casey, I can actually pinpoint where the friendship began to turn dark. It unraveled from there, that point, that conversation. Unlike with Casey I can say that it was mostly my fault.

However, I do realize that it was in a way unavoidable. While we clashed, we pushed our friendship inexorably away from us.

When I hear Regina Spektor's song "Better" I think of her.

Self Loathing

2007-12-13T20:52:00.000-08:00

Goddamn, I am so full of self-loathing right now. I know I shouldn't allow myself to feel this way. To allow someone else to make me feel inferior. Eleanor Roosevelt would be so disappointed in me right now.

I saw this picture on Fark, expecting something funny and saw this. Shit. I look like that in jeans.

I thought of a post to leave:

"Well there aren't any jeans that look good on chubby chicks that are age appropriate. Mom jeans just aren't sexy."

Then I realized what the response would be: Chubby chicks just aren't sexy. It's not the jeans. It's not the shirt. It's your fucking gut that makes you look like a goddamn unattractive pig. Again with feeling:

Chubby chicks aren't sexy.

I am not sexy.

I guess the one good thing about having mono is that I'm going to lose weight.

I've been trying most of this semester to lose weight, but unsuccessfully. Mostly I tried to diet. Tried being the operative verb here. It's hard to diet in the dorms with Bruce food. Maple food isn't really all that much better. They just replace fat with carbs and limit your entrée (usually the protein!) to just one serving. Not so good.

I just got started going back to the gym and was going to ask for a membership at the 24 Hour Fitness center a few miles away from home for an early Christmas present, but the mono got in the way of that.

Was someone drunk or high when they wrote these directions? Jesus...

2007-11-28T21:02:00.001-08:00

I feel lost.

You know when you have bad directions or a really poorly drawn map? When you're traveling in the wrong direction, but you don't know how to fix it, or where to turn around? Just when did these instructions go bad? When you're just so fucking lost that you crossed that point where "if you cross the railroad track you've gone too far" and you didn't even realize it?

Honestly, that's a bad metaphor. I don't even know where I'm pointed in the first place. It is a complete mystery to me where I am supposed to end up, and I have a few ideas, but all the ones I've tried thus far have failed me. I really don't have high hopes for the others, actually.

Just what am I to do with myself?

I don't want to wander around like my first day in New York and realize I did nothing, really. I'm in a new city with no real destination and no one that I actually know that would tell me where to go. A few things I did along the way are completely awesome, but I feel like I am missing out on something. The problem is I don't know what the hell it is.

All I'm left with is this empty feeling. This nervous feeling. This helpless feeling. This expectant feeling. This lonely feeling. This numb feeling. This confused feeling. This terrified feeling. This exposed feeling.

I don't even know where I am.

I feel like I'm expected elsewhere, but I'm not there and wherever it is and whoever they are they're wondering where I am. They're sitting there, because hopefully there really is a "they" and a "where," and saying "I hope Hannah didn't cross the railroad tracks, and I hope she actually knows that this is here, waiting for her," or, maybe, "Jesus! Start a search party, because she's fucking missing."

I hope they come find me, because, right now, I can't find me.

Geography Is Important...

2007-11-28T15:38:00.000-08:00

because if you get it wrong you sound like a complete idiot.

I was walking down the hall to do my laundry (laundry rooms are on the complete other side of the building from my room, meaning that I have to drag my dirty undies through the lobby unless I want to walk upstairs with them, which is unreasonable) and I overheard a conversation.

"I have a friend from England. He's from southern England which means he's Scottish."

(The boy who said this is a sophomore in college. A sophomore in motherfucking college.)

At left is a map of the United Kingdom.

Notice the red area at the top, which is known to us as Scotland, where Scottish people are from.

The top of the map is known as "north" and the bottom of the map is known as "south."

Notice that there is no place in the south of England that is called "Scotland" but there is a place in the south and east portion known as "Wales," not to be confused with the word "whales" which is the plural form of a sea living mammal covered in fat known as "blubber." People from the country of Wales are known as "Welsh."

I have a friend that was born in Cardiff, Wales. She is neither Scottish, nor English. In fact, if you call her English she'll be pretty pissed. She is Welsh, and quite proud of it.

After I heard this exchange I felt overcome by the need to educate this US American so I put my laundry down, said,

"Scotland is north of England," picked up my laundry and walked onward. I wanted to scream.

I chose not to educate him on the finer points of Geography and international politics (England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland are part of the United Kingdom, Scotland will be its own country within 10 years, living on an island for thousands of years and going through two devastating world wars is bad for the gene pool, and etc.) because it would have likely gone over his head.

I really wanted to see if he could find Iraq, the US, Israel, Iran and Pakistan on a map, but I really didn't have time to mess with his head that much, also if he had failed to do so (which was likely) I would have slammed my head into a wall.

The truly sad part of this exchange is that this kid isn't an art major or anything, he's an English major.

In a related topic:
9 Words That Don't Mean What You Think

I'm a Grammar Nazi as well as a Geography Nazi.

I am thankful for the things I am thankful for and that's why I should be thankful.

2007-11-22T21:49:00.000-08:00

I'm thankful my mother didn't notice me crying in the car on the way home.
I'm thankful that dearest boyfriend isn't silly enough to join the military and make me hurt. Or more like I'm lucky, and that I'm thankful that I'm lucky.

I'm thankful that I have a healthy fear about doing things like drugs and going to strange countries with HIV tainted blood supplies.

I am thankful that I graduated high school.

I'm a little bit thankful that no one really reads this blog yet. I don't have to explain my own words to people. To justify myself to outsiders who are actively trying to misunderstand. That, at this point, in this place, I can just be. I can just write. I can't write like that when I know people are reading. I turn too passive-aggressive or else I censor myself too much. I'm too sensitive.

I'm thankful for life. For this oxygen. For this carbon and for the sulfur that makes my DNA, however storied are the problems that lie therein, because otherwise I wouldn't be me, now would I?

Thoughts of a web explorer.

2007-11-20T21:09:00.000-08:00

Here's my quest for the evening. I will use stumble upon to cruise the web tonight and I will record my ruminations on the sites in question. Happy hunting to me!

Site 1.
Call the Future

This website weirds me out a little. It looks like it's entirely designed for liars and preteens. Liars "trying to have a reason to get out of a meeting" are suggested to use this site. Preteens would just use it to get up to their usual Mean Girls tricks.

While it is weird, the concept is pretty cool, except that it would cost you and the person that you are calling money to do this. Especially the person you are texting, which is pretty lame, if you ask me.

It reminds me a little of the AIM prank bot that circulated while I was in my Sophmore year of high school. It would AIM the person of your choice with a single message from someone called "jen0098" or something as lame and you could basically make fun of someone for about 15 minutes that way before it messages them with the website.

Site 2.
Synonyms for words commonly used in student's writings

Lord knows I hate a crappy writer. I was forced to use a thesaurus as a 3rd grader and it did me a great deal of good. Everyone should be forced to come up with diffrent words for "red" and "said." Everyone.

Site 3.
Mr. Picasso Head

This is pretty cute. It's like Mr. Potatohead, only you can adjust the size and color of the features randomly pasted on the "canvas." It reminds me of the scene in Toy Story where Mr. Potatohead rearranges his features in a very "Picasso esque" way, shouts "Hey look! I'm Picasso!"and calls Ham "uncultured swine" when he doesn't get the joke.

At left is the result of my artistry: Self Portrait in Picasso, by myself.

Site 4.
One Sentence- True stories, told in one sentence.

Like postsecret only with more writing finesse, and probably about as false.

Site 5.
yugop.com

Experimental flash media.

It looks like they were playing with physics engines or algorithms or something. Over my head, but interesting none the less.

04:CLAYGRID is my favorite.

Site 6.
Notice

Awkward. The face, however, is cute in a kinda disturbing way. Like emo oranges in many ways.

The rest of the site has some interesting art/photography that I just don't have the patience to view right now. Whatever, moving on...

Site 7.
Do you mind?

A cartoonist's commentary on the cultural takeover of commercial Christmas of the latter part of the year.

I hate listening to Christmas music for 2 whole months. Somehow it makes it less special than before.

Incidentally: do you feel that the first version of a Christmas song (or any song, for that matter) is automatically your favorite. I really don't like any other version of "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire" that isn't performed by Nat King Cole. That dude is the king of X-mas music for sure.

Site 8.
Make Your Own Snowflake

A rather clever flash oriented snowflake generator. I like Ze Frank's version for Smirnoff a little better, but that just may be my very pro Ze Frank bias.

Really, what this site showed me is I can design some ugly-ass snowflakes. Also that I am inordinately tempted to make penis flakes and asscheek flakes. God, I am horrible.

I'm stopping this at 8 because I feel like it.

For seriously...

2007-11-15T03:06:00.000-08:00

5:12 AM as I start this post.

Why the fuck can't I sleep? I slept for a few hours and then starting tossing and turning sometime at around 3:30-4:00 (don't you hate it when you're so tired that you press SHIFT while typing numbers, shit), and I want to mother fucking sleep.

JESUS H. TAP DANCING CHRIST!

Some guy down the hall said "What the hell you want?" I think everybody knows what I want.

Whenever I lie still my legs hurt if I don't move them every few seconds.

Stupid fucking capture the flag, tiring my ass out. And I lost too. Fuck me. I hate being so damn out of shape, but now that I've moved locations into the lobby I'm sleepy all the fucking sudden.

Why the hell can't I be sleepy IN MY BED. In my fucking bed where I fucking sleep. I'm supposed to feel sleepy there, not here on the couch in the lobby listening to fucktards with pube beards play Halo 3 all fucking night.

I remember when sleeping in the lobby was pretty decent sleeping. Not as awesome as bed-sleeping, that's for damn sure, but it was good sleeping. Now all these shitkittens from other dorms come in here and play videogames on our TVs all fucking day.

Go away. It was kinda fun at first, but you're playing the same damn game, now you're just yelling into a headset at some 12 year old with negligent parents on X box Live.

I want to stretch my legs out on this here loveseat, or better yet stretch out on one of the couches you commandeered for your fucking videogame bullshit.

I'm glad I wasn't allowed to play videogames growing up, just because of your fucking bull fucking shit. I like to read books, not simulate killing people in a first-person shooter. I know video games don't cause violence, but you guys need to chill the fuck out and play some fucking Tetris, some Centipede, some Myst, or some goddamn Sims (visually, goddamn Sims looks funny to me, don't really know why). Do you really need to stay up all night killing people or animals, or God forbid pretending to me a mythical creature "raiding" or some such shit on a MMPORG? Doesn't that get fucking old? Because I don't even play the damn game and it's old for me.

And for the last time Final Fantasy music SUCKS FUCKING ASS, stop playing it on the piano and drooling. It's not that good. Mario Party, and pretty much any multi-player from Nintendo has SUCK ASS MUSIC, so stop blasting the fucking volume in the fucking lobby. You don't need to hear the DING as you get a star or whatever the fuck you do in that fucking game, and sure as the Pope takes a holy shit every morning I don't fucking need to hear it either. The Monks in Halo 3 are okay, I'll give you that, but I don't need to hear that shit blasted all over the building every evening as you commandeer the big ass TV in the Red Room so you can fucking LAN.

Don't even get me started about LAN party people... it's not a party if you do the same damn thing every day. If you want to have a real party have a NPV party. A Not Playing Videogames Party.

These assholes are just as bad as people that constantly have loud ass parties with roommates that don't participate in such activities, worse even, because unlike a drunk, they're RUINING THE INTERNET. Can you imagine? Ruining the whole fucking internet for everyone else.

All the fucktards on the network are doing the same fucking thing and slowing the whole damn thing down. People who actually want to get to the internet and read some goddamn articles can't get on because you nitwits, you shitkittens, you fucktards, you ASSHOLES want to play games with some fucking high school students and 12 year olds.

Goddamn you for making me sound like a fucking old man on my fucking old man lawn. Even I am appalled at the level of profanity in this post.

24 hours

2007-11-14T19:37:00.000-08:00

The past 24 hours have surely been interesting.

Dearest boyfriend woke me up at 10:00 on Tuesday to get me to help him set up a table at Rock the Vote, which was lame. They played MTV approved music and there was a really low turnout. Big surprise.

I went back to Bruce and ate lunch with Sam and Jessie.

I went back to Rock the Vote (yay Democrats having to table because the Republicans AND the Young Conservatives were there) where I overheard the most ironic hipster, ever.

Brought the tabling tub back to Bruce and sat in Joseph's room and babied him while he was sick.

Looked at Web Comics and was told that a "friend couple" of many years had broken up. :(

Went to an eventful therapy session.

THEN followed that up with a heartrending Sister Night for SAI. (Lots of crying...)

Ate at Taco Cabana.

Said goodnight to Joseph.

Surfed the internet for an hour.

Went to sleep.

Woke up.

Read the internet.

Ate lunch with Joseph.

Went to Dems Officer Meeting where I saw my therapist. It's weird to see doctors and professors where they don't "belong." We try to avoid each other's eyes and it's awkward. Patient Confidentiality Rights and all...

Came back and vegged out.

Played capture the flag and lost.

Chronically Misunderstood != Hip

2007-11-13T22:54:00.000-08:00

Really now...

You wear t-shirts underneath jackets.

Of course this is not a new t-shirt from Target or Old Navy or even from your favorite band's website. Oh no. It's a band shirt you "bought at a thrift store for seventy-five cents."

Your jacket (which you also bought at the thrift store) still smells like old man because you spent all your money on your hair gel and couldn't afford to wash the smell of decrepit old age out of it at the dry cleaners.

If a band you like gets radio airplay they've "sold out" and you don't listen to them anymore, even if you do still like them. This is to maintain your "indie cred."

Your hair is always in your eyes. Not because you need a haircut. On the contrary, you've cut your hair so that it looks like you still need a hair cut. There is so much pomade shellacked into your bangs that your pompadour is weighed down into your eyes.

You walked past the Democrats table at Rock the Vote today and proudly commented on how grown up you are because you support Ron Paul.

Let's break this down: You were at Rock the Vote, which is sponsored by MTV. How can you be a hipster and like MTV? It's like being a gay Republican. You support Ron Paul. This makes sense to your hipster sensibilities since he's an "indie politician," that hasn't sold out to his constituents or anything. But it's Ron Paul, so your support for him negates your status as an "adult."

The Man That Almost Ruined Me For Other Men

2007-11-05T22:44:00.001-08:00

Yes, ladies and gentles. I almost became lesbian today, and not because any beautiful creature entered my life and tried to convince me to leave my darling boyfriend.

Oh no. Quite the opposite in fact.

Said darling boyfriend was watching some pundits complaining about Hillary being a woman and exclaiming "Get her pregnant!" and "Take away her shoes!" or some such nonsense on MSNBC when darling boy uttered the words that almost irrevocably changed my life:

"Oh God! Look at the back of Pat Buchanan's head."

And I looked. Oh God, I looked.

People, I have been to 4chan.org. I have seen the wonders of the internets and the /b/ board. Hentai, autopsy photos, fark.com Anon DIT threads... dead people, furry porn, pterodactyl porn... I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate... no wait, that was from Blade Runner.

Anyway, I've seen some fucked up repugnant shit... (aaaaaaaand that was from Pulp Fiction... Shit! I'm still so messed up from that sight that I can't even come up with original material)

And then I saw that...

(And no. I won't post a picture of it. Because according to Rule 34 of the Internet someone is already jerking off to that picture already. I don't want to contribute to that shit. Also, I like you and I don't want to subject you to that.)

At that very moment my mind refused to accept an attraction to any male. Darling man-thing tried making out with me and I'm usually putty in that boy's hands, but not today.

No, instead I was looking over his shoulder the whole time at a picture of Tricia Helfer on the cover of "Battlestar Galactica" and thinking about that evil, evil hottie Number Six.

At first he was bothered, then he actually thought about what it would look like and he was bothered in a diffrent way. Then he realized that I was telling the truth and kinda freaked out.

Not even Indiana Jones could turn me on. Indiana Jones with a whip and a leather fedora!

Eventually I got over it and focused instead on Questionable Content. I think I remind myself of Faye, but that's the subject of another posting.

Wouldn't it have been ironic if Pat Buchanan, big, fat, balding, jingoistic, bigoted Pat Buchanan actually had permanently ruined me for other men? And wouldn't have been an awesome story to tell in the lesbian scene?

Me: Pat Buchanan made me a lesbian.
Lesbian in Bar: I want you. Right. Now.

Awesome

I wear them every day.

2007-11-02T23:34:00.001-07:00

Image courtesy of Natalie Dee.