Okay, first off-
Since I've become competent at the baking stuff, why the HELL is making chocolate chip cookies so hard? It's true I don't have a mixer, but I can't coax them to rise. You'd think mixing the dough by hand would be plenty good enough!
Second-
What's with all the MEAN computers nowadays?
When Liam graduated from Navy Boot Camp (CONGRATS, LITTLE BRO!) Brian and I flew out to Chicago to see him and celebrate. Denver International Airport was our point of departure. DIA has a neato little train network between terminals, and Brian and I were boarding one when the token late person tried to rush through the doors at the last minute. The doors closed on her suitcase, then immediately opened back up the way they always do. The usually placid computer voice that had been busy announcing which terminal we were at suddenly started PMSing at this point and admonished the late-comer with "YOU are DELAYING the departure of this train."
It sounded more like an angry mother telling her son that NO, HE CAN'T HAVE THE DAMN TOY than a recorded announcement. Brian and I burst out laughing in the middle of the train ride, thinking that the computer might need to change its tampon.
Then, we bought a Wii Fit. Lots of fun, and the Yoga feels wonderful, but... well... I get the feeling the little Wii Body Board is insulting me. After balance tests, it suggests that "Maybe the basic balance test isn't your forte." The trainer will occasionally mention that I "should keep working on it," or that I "could do better." The game picks tests "just for me" that are actually things I suck at. Oh, and I can't beat a supposedly 'Easy' game. Uh... Yeah. Screw that noise. I'm smarter than you, body board! YOU HEAR ME?!
Next electronic device that insults me is going to be doused in salt water...
Friday, September 19, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Practice does make perfect!
So, before I run some errands and then play Go for the next few hours, I decided to post a blog! What better to talk about than what's on my mind today? Bunny presents...
Originally called weiqi (pronounced way chee), Go originated in China around 2,000 BC. Like many old things, the origins are difficult to trace. It might have started as a method of fortune telling, tutoring, or a way for generals to map tactics and positions of troops.
Regardless of its origins, Go evolved into a deep and complicated game, then began to spread. Its movement into Japan and Korea resulted in several different sets of rules for counting points and scoring. In both Japan and China, Go came to be considered a skill of the upper class, and there are plenty of paintings and wood blocks depicting its patronage in the imperial courts. The tradition of Go has continued into our modern era, where professional players challenge each other in international title matches, and chess Grand-Masters stare in awe.
When a stone or group of stones becomes completely surrounded by stones of the opposite color, those stones are considered "dead." Dead stones are removed from the board.
Stones are not allowed to move into a position where they will be immediately captured. In other words, no suicide.
Despite having some fairly simple rules, Go is insanely complex. Aside from the basic stipulations listed above, every intersection on a 19 by 19 square board is a possible move. Even after decades of trying to program a computer to play decent Go, the computer can only beat a professional player if it's given the highest legal handicap. Deep Blue, eat your heart out.
I took up Go almost two years ago, and by complete accident. I stumbled upon a couple of guys playing a game, started watching, and, before I knew it, I was playing a game. The rest, as they say, is history.
I'm now trying to bridge the gap between 15 or 14 kyu and 12-10 kyu. That's not a bad rank, considering you start at about 26 kyu. I play a pretty good game with my roommate almost every other day, and I'm trying to get back to playing on a daily basis. Then, on Wednesday, I hit Go club and play until my head hurts. I can honestly say that it's fun, and that I enjoy the feeling of accomplishment when I start saving shapes or winning fights.
I feel like a genius, even with my head aching fit to burst. Now, if only I could get Brian to play.
The Game of Go
Originally called weiqi (pronounced way chee), Go originated in China around 2,000 BC. Like many old things, the origins are difficult to trace. It might have started as a method of fortune telling, tutoring, or a way for generals to map tactics and positions of troops.
Regardless of its origins, Go evolved into a deep and complicated game, then began to spread. Its movement into Japan and Korea resulted in several different sets of rules for counting points and scoring. In both Japan and China, Go came to be considered a skill of the upper class, and there are plenty of paintings and wood blocks depicting its patronage in the imperial courts. The tradition of Go has continued into our modern era, where professional players challenge each other in international title matches, and chess Grand-Masters stare in awe.
-
. . . [it is] something unearthly . . . If there are sentient beings on other planets, then they play Go.
- Emanuel Lasker, chess grandmaster
When a stone or group of stones becomes completely surrounded by stones of the opposite color, those stones are considered "dead." Dead stones are removed from the board.
Stones are not allowed to move into a position where they will be immediately captured. In other words, no suicide.
Despite having some fairly simple rules, Go is insanely complex. Aside from the basic stipulations listed above, every intersection on a 19 by 19 square board is a possible move. Even after decades of trying to program a computer to play decent Go, the computer can only beat a professional player if it's given the highest legal handicap. Deep Blue, eat your heart out.
I took up Go almost two years ago, and by complete accident. I stumbled upon a couple of guys playing a game, started watching, and, before I knew it, I was playing a game. The rest, as they say, is history.
I'm now trying to bridge the gap between 15 or 14 kyu and 12-10 kyu. That's not a bad rank, considering you start at about 26 kyu. I play a pretty good game with my roommate almost every other day, and I'm trying to get back to playing on a daily basis. Then, on Wednesday, I hit Go club and play until my head hurts. I can honestly say that it's fun, and that I enjoy the feeling of accomplishment when I start saving shapes or winning fights.
I feel like a genius, even with my head aching fit to burst. Now, if only I could get Brian to play.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
The Proof
So, the world is totally ending. I have scientific, irrefutable proof of this.
I am learning to cook.
I can make cheese and spinach manicotti without a recipe. I can make pie from scratch. I can roast an entire turkey. I can make shepherd's pie, corned beef, and French Onion soup. Stews and casseroles might as well rain from the sky.
Today's accomplishment was a tasty apple tart with shortbread crust and cream cheese filling.
I used to be the person who didn't have to cook. This state of existence basically came about because of the colossal mistakes I made on a regular basis. I've messed up SOUP before. This wasn't condensed soup, either. This was open-the-can-and-stick-it-in-the-microwave soup!
So, yeah. The fact that I can make tasty dainties is obviously a sign of the coming Armageddon.
Damn, I feel accomplished!
I am learning to cook.
I can make cheese and spinach manicotti without a recipe. I can make pie from scratch. I can roast an entire turkey. I can make shepherd's pie, corned beef, and French Onion soup. Stews and casseroles might as well rain from the sky.
Today's accomplishment was a tasty apple tart with shortbread crust and cream cheese filling.
I used to be the person who didn't have to cook. This state of existence basically came about because of the colossal mistakes I made on a regular basis. I've messed up SOUP before. This wasn't condensed soup, either. This was open-the-can-and-stick-it-in-the-microwave soup!
So, yeah. The fact that I can make tasty dainties is obviously a sign of the coming Armageddon.
Damn, I feel accomplished!
Monday, August 4, 2008
Sticky wads of BAD!
Be forewarned, this is my brain unloading what's bothering me... Again. I wonder if I ever say anything else? Like, anything INTERESTING? Eh, probably not.
Well, it is my blog. I use it to, like, vent and stuff. You know, the sort of thing you can't throw your head back and scream because of? Or the sort of thing that nobody around you wants to talk about? This is where I put it. Don't like it? Stop reading.
I try not to be petty. But I do try to say when something hurts me. Not saying anything hasn't really gone all that well, before.
When I find I've hurt somebody, I pull away. I'm afraid to do more damage. What happens when they pull away, too? Do we just stop talking and call that the end of it? That sounds like kind of a lose-lose situation.
When a book is complicated enough to make my head almost hurt, but I still love it, does that make me a literary masochist? Or is literary masochism defined as reading something that you consider to be crap of your own free will? ~cough~ERAGON~cough~
I regularly have fantasies about quitting Wal-Mart. Does this mean I need a change? Then again, is it really wise to go courting a change when I've got about four months until what's probably the next one?
A week ago I couldn't sleep. This week, I slept entirely too much, and still felt exhausted. Tonight, I can't sleep. What the hell is this?
I think my step-dad is working himself to death. I think my youngest brother's fiance is getting cold feet. I know for a fact my mother's nuts. The middle brother is getting a free iguana. She comes with a cage and climbing branches, even. More weirdness.
My book had better end the way I want it to. So help me, if I don't like the ending, I'll throw it across the room. After I've thrown it across the room, I'll walk over, pick it up, and chuck it out the window. Once it's lying in the driveway, I'll get into my car and run over it a few times. I might get out and spit on it for good measure.
Ye gods, I wish I had more money.
It's been almost a month since the cops told him to leave me alone, and I still feel like my ex is going to show up out of nowhere and try to beat on me or something. Am I screwed in the head?
I just learned the coolest phrase! "Bad Buddhist! No Nirvana!"
May the nonspecific deity or lack thereof of your choice bless your favorite social/legal institution, and good night... Crap. Morning. Good morning.
Well, it is my blog. I use it to, like, vent and stuff. You know, the sort of thing you can't throw your head back and scream because of? Or the sort of thing that nobody around you wants to talk about? This is where I put it. Don't like it? Stop reading.
I try not to be petty. But I do try to say when something hurts me. Not saying anything hasn't really gone all that well, before.
When I find I've hurt somebody, I pull away. I'm afraid to do more damage. What happens when they pull away, too? Do we just stop talking and call that the end of it? That sounds like kind of a lose-lose situation.
When a book is complicated enough to make my head almost hurt, but I still love it, does that make me a literary masochist? Or is literary masochism defined as reading something that you consider to be crap of your own free will? ~cough~ERAGON~cough~
I regularly have fantasies about quitting Wal-Mart. Does this mean I need a change? Then again, is it really wise to go courting a change when I've got about four months until what's probably the next one?
A week ago I couldn't sleep. This week, I slept entirely too much, and still felt exhausted. Tonight, I can't sleep. What the hell is this?
I think my step-dad is working himself to death. I think my youngest brother's fiance is getting cold feet. I know for a fact my mother's nuts. The middle brother is getting a free iguana. She comes with a cage and climbing branches, even. More weirdness.
My book had better end the way I want it to. So help me, if I don't like the ending, I'll throw it across the room. After I've thrown it across the room, I'll walk over, pick it up, and chuck it out the window. Once it's lying in the driveway, I'll get into my car and run over it a few times. I might get out and spit on it for good measure.
Ye gods, I wish I had more money.
It's been almost a month since the cops told him to leave me alone, and I still feel like my ex is going to show up out of nowhere and try to beat on me or something. Am I screwed in the head?
I just learned the coolest phrase! "Bad Buddhist! No Nirvana!"
May the nonspecific deity or lack thereof of your choice bless your favorite social/legal institution, and good night... Crap. Morning. Good morning.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Friends, Bulbasaur, and Lots of Cake!
So, I finally got to play Portal. I technically bought the Orange Box as a little present for Brian, but I knew the entire time I wanted to play Portal. I didn't turn it on until he beat it, so I'm rather proud of myself. Also kind of creeped out by the little robots...The big computer was kinna creepy, too.
Hello?
In other news, we have also begun downloading a bunch of crap for the Wii. I have rediscovered Pokemon Snap, Pokemon Puzzle League, and Ocarina of Time. We got Pokemon Snap because it's freaking FUN, we got Puzzle League because I love the gameplay and to give my brain a rest after Ocarina. We got Ocarina because it fucking RULES. Alas, playing games affiliated with the Satanic Cult of Pokemon has made me realize how many of their names I remember... And how many awesome impressions I do...
Are you still there? Where are you?
One last thing I wanted to get out of my brain case...
Maybe I have a funny idea of friendship, but I try not to think horrible things about my friends. I believe that, while they may have some flaws, they are honestly good people. I wouldn't be their friends if they were not.
Assume the submissive party position and get ready to blow out the candle on your cake!
Hello?
In other news, we have also begun downloading a bunch of crap for the Wii. I have rediscovered Pokemon Snap, Pokemon Puzzle League, and Ocarina of Time. We got Pokemon Snap because it's freaking FUN, we got Puzzle League because I love the gameplay and to give my brain a rest after Ocarina. We got Ocarina because it fucking RULES. Alas, playing games affiliated with the Satanic Cult of Pokemon has made me realize how many of their names I remember... And how many awesome impressions I do...
Are you still there? Where are you?
One last thing I wanted to get out of my brain case...
Maybe I have a funny idea of friendship, but I try not to think horrible things about my friends. I believe that, while they may have some flaws, they are honestly good people. I wouldn't be their friends if they were not.
Assume the submissive party position and get ready to blow out the candle on your cake!
Monday, July 21, 2008
Deep Thoughts, pt 3
After beating God of War 2 for the (insert insanely large number here) time, I find myself worried that I am preoccupied with vengeance. I have previously discussed my temper, which is bad... But I think it's even worse that I can go on hating somebody with that kind of ferocity for years.
I do not exaggerate when I say years.
My record is eleven years and counting. Mind you, I hate THAT guy for a damn good reason, but that's still a pretty long time to wish death by gerbil rape on anybody. That, and I'm not sure that having a "good reason" makes it less petty or immature of me.
Everybody, even the Bible, tells you that "letting it go" or "turning the other cheek" is what you're supposed to do. Is there a limit to the "turn the other cheek" response? Is there a "shit cap" on what people do to you that, once exceeded, allows you to circumvent the mature and socially acceptable course of action?
Or do I just want to see another person suffer so badly that I'm willing to ignore conventional wisdom and societal norms?
Hmm... I shall have to think about all this... Preferably before the next time I storm Mount Olympus and destroy Western society because Zeus stabbed me...
I do not exaggerate when I say years.
My record is eleven years and counting. Mind you, I hate THAT guy for a damn good reason, but that's still a pretty long time to wish death by gerbil rape on anybody. That, and I'm not sure that having a "good reason" makes it less petty or immature of me.
Everybody, even the Bible, tells you that "letting it go" or "turning the other cheek" is what you're supposed to do. Is there a limit to the "turn the other cheek" response? Is there a "shit cap" on what people do to you that, once exceeded, allows you to circumvent the mature and socially acceptable course of action?
Or do I just want to see another person suffer so badly that I'm willing to ignore conventional wisdom and societal norms?
Hmm... I shall have to think about all this... Preferably before the next time I storm Mount Olympus and destroy Western society because Zeus stabbed me...
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Wascawwy Wabbit
So, Brian pulled one over on me, today. Like, badly. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.
My day started off pretty normally. Wake up to the alarm, accidentally kick the wall (and probably piss off the crazy neighbor lady), wash some dishes, etc. On Wednesdays, I usually spend a few hours at a local coffee shop called Coal Creek with the rest of the Laramie Go Club. Today was no exception. The only difference was that, today, Brian thought he might join me for lunch and try to connect with a mutual friend of ours, named Will. This friend's phone was "not working," which meant that Brian had to go to the music shop next door to rendezvous with him. (This is the first incident of my obliviousness.)
Brian and Will sauntered back into the store, at which point Brian transferred his camera to Will's keeping. (Second key bit of info that I just didn't pick up on.)
Next, Brian set down his laptop beside me, got onto the internet, and pointedly suggested that I check out one of my favorite web comics, The Black Vatican. (Third time I totally missed something.)
It should also be noted that Brian had brought the rings with him today so that he could "show everybody at Go Club." Yes, I fell for that, too. (The lame excuse brings the count up to four!)
I paused my current game to indulge Brian, and scooted over to check the web comic on his laptop... which had been left open for my use... (FIVE!)
This is what I saw:
It took a few seconds to process.
I cannot describe this moment without an obscene amount of bad poetry.
My heart was pounding like it wanted to claw its way out of my ribs, but time had long since halted. I was terrified, elated, amazed, and about to cry. When I could finally bring myself to look at him, Brian was kneeling beside me and holding an engagement ring. He asked THE question... Since my vocal cords were FULL OF FAIL at the time, I nodded.
The next few minutes were kind of a blur of grabbing Brian, crying on Brian, kissing Brian, and generally being a mess.
Yeah. He made a fool out of me. Watch it for yourself on Brian's blog! (Because I have no clue how to upload video...)
http://doksmith.blogspot.com/
I never thought that being a fool would feel so damn amazing.
My day started off pretty normally. Wake up to the alarm, accidentally kick the wall (and probably piss off the crazy neighbor lady), wash some dishes, etc. On Wednesdays, I usually spend a few hours at a local coffee shop called Coal Creek with the rest of the Laramie Go Club. Today was no exception. The only difference was that, today, Brian thought he might join me for lunch and try to connect with a mutual friend of ours, named Will. This friend's phone was "not working," which meant that Brian had to go to the music shop next door to rendezvous with him. (This is the first incident of my obliviousness.)
Brian and Will sauntered back into the store, at which point Brian transferred his camera to Will's keeping. (Second key bit of info that I just didn't pick up on.)
Next, Brian set down his laptop beside me, got onto the internet, and pointedly suggested that I check out one of my favorite web comics, The Black Vatican. (Third time I totally missed something.)
It should also be noted that Brian had brought the rings with him today so that he could "show everybody at Go Club." Yes, I fell for that, too. (The lame excuse brings the count up to four!)
I paused my current game to indulge Brian, and scooted over to check the web comic on his laptop... which had been left open for my use... (FIVE!)
This is what I saw:
It took a few seconds to process.
I cannot describe this moment without an obscene amount of bad poetry.
My heart was pounding like it wanted to claw its way out of my ribs, but time had long since halted. I was terrified, elated, amazed, and about to cry. When I could finally bring myself to look at him, Brian was kneeling beside me and holding an engagement ring. He asked THE question... Since my vocal cords were FULL OF FAIL at the time, I nodded.
The next few minutes were kind of a blur of grabbing Brian, crying on Brian, kissing Brian, and generally being a mess.
Yeah. He made a fool out of me. Watch it for yourself on Brian's blog! (Because I have no clue how to upload video...)
http://doksmith.blogspot.com/
I never thought that being a fool would feel so damn amazing.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Wild Penis
So, when I showed Linus an amusing picture, this was his response-
"What? They grow wild, now? And here I was, wasting time as I tried to cultivate my own. "
This was a mistake on his part, as it set in motion a demented train of thought...
"What? They grow wild, now? And here I was, wasting time as I tried to cultivate my own. "
This was a mistake on his part, as it set in motion a demented train of thought...
Yes, despite the attempts of that other Vatican, penises can now be found growing wild.
Hikers must be careful to avoid larger clumps, lest the penises try to tear a hole through their clothes.
Agitating the penises is also not recommended, as they may attempt to spit at anybody who's harassing them.
Normally, however, penises are rather limp and docile, and are known to be fond of the occasional stroking.
... No more caffeine for me...
PS. To read the hilarious caption, check out Ursula Vernon's artwork at
http://www.metalandmagic.com/modules.php?set_albumName=oddities&id=wangvalley&op=modload&name=gallery&file=index&include=view_photo.php
Agitating the penises is also not recommended, as they may attempt to spit at anybody who's harassing them.
Normally, however, penises are rather limp and docile, and are known to be fond of the occasional stroking.
... No more caffeine for me...
PS. To read the hilarious caption, check out Ursula Vernon's artwork at
Friday, July 4, 2008
Darwin Awards
Seeing as this is "Get Drunk and Blow Shit Up" Day, (aka Independence Day or Fourth of July) I'm sure that somebody, right now, is preparing to kill themselves by complete accident. This is sometimes known as a case of terminal stupidity, and is illustrated by the picture below-
Happy Fourth! Those of you who are intelligent, open-minded or actual friends, please try not to die! For any ignorant, homophobic, Bible-thumping pricks who happen to be reading this, please make sure not to let go of the firework. Pointing it at your face might be a good idea too.
Happy Fourth! Those of you who are intelligent, open-minded or actual friends, please try not to die! For any ignorant, homophobic, Bible-thumping pricks who happen to be reading this, please make sure not to let go of the firework. Pointing it at your face might be a good idea too.
Deep Thoughts, pt 2
Have you ever done something really, really stupid? Hmm... Not the best question... I'll think of a better way to put it...
If you've ever worked a customer service job, you probably know the perils of making promises that you're not certain you can keep. Getting a customer's expectations up is equivalent to taping a sign to your own arse that says "I deserve to be screamed at!" So it's really strange that I did just that thing tonight, knowing what I was asking for. What's even more strange is how it paid off.
A customer called tonight, asking if we had a particular item. It took a good fifteen minutes to figure out if we even had it in the store. Then, it turns out that this item might be recalled. The customer doesn't want to drive an hour just to find out that they can't buy the darn thing (pretty understandable) so I agree to write down her phone number and call her back when I figure out what she needs. This was definitely against my better judgment. As it turns out, I managed to figure the problem out and call her back within fifteen minutes. They said 'thanks,' I said 'no prob,' and thought that was the end of it. Imagine my surprise when the husband saunters up to the desk to compliment the girl on the service desk who helped his wife out. Yeah, it was me. He ended up talking with the manager for my department, singing my praises the whole time.
I cannot remember the last time I have felt that kind of euphoria within the bounds of my retail prison. It wasn't just that I was getting a compliment. Yeah, that's great, but I was also filled with that sense of honest happiness that you feel when you know you've done something nice, or accomplished something impressive.
Uck. I'm tired and rambling right now, but I guess the lesson I learned tonight is that doing something a little stupid is sometimes the right choice. Just don't be too much of an idiot.
And now for something completely different!
That was just to make sure nobody will accuse me of "growing up" or "being mature." =)
If you've ever worked a customer service job, you probably know the perils of making promises that you're not certain you can keep. Getting a customer's expectations up is equivalent to taping a sign to your own arse that says "I deserve to be screamed at!" So it's really strange that I did just that thing tonight, knowing what I was asking for. What's even more strange is how it paid off.
A customer called tonight, asking if we had a particular item. It took a good fifteen minutes to figure out if we even had it in the store. Then, it turns out that this item might be recalled. The customer doesn't want to drive an hour just to find out that they can't buy the darn thing (pretty understandable) so I agree to write down her phone number and call her back when I figure out what she needs. This was definitely against my better judgment. As it turns out, I managed to figure the problem out and call her back within fifteen minutes. They said 'thanks,' I said 'no prob,' and thought that was the end of it. Imagine my surprise when the husband saunters up to the desk to compliment the girl on the service desk who helped his wife out. Yeah, it was me. He ended up talking with the manager for my department, singing my praises the whole time.
I cannot remember the last time I have felt that kind of euphoria within the bounds of my retail prison. It wasn't just that I was getting a compliment. Yeah, that's great, but I was also filled with that sense of honest happiness that you feel when you know you've done something nice, or accomplished something impressive.
Uck. I'm tired and rambling right now, but I guess the lesson I learned tonight is that doing something a little stupid is sometimes the right choice. Just don't be too much of an idiot.
And now for something completely different!
That was just to make sure nobody will accuse me of "growing up" or "being mature." =)
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Me, My Temper, and I
Disclaimer: I get violent when I'm angry. If you're faint of heart or weak of stomach, stop here. If you're eating... you should still probably stop here.
If you've heard read my rants about Wal-Mart, stupid people, and other things that make me angry, you probably have a decent idea of what my temper is like. From what I understand, Irish girls usually have a quick temper that burns hot enough to strike fear into the heart of any man... and certain National Parks. That stereotype might have gotten started by one of my ancestors.
Tonight, for instance, I had to leave work fifteen minutes early to ensure that I did not eviscerate a customer. (Mind you, eviscerating her would have been one hell of a job. She was at least three times my girth.)
All the same, when a morbidly obese woman waddles up to the customer service desk and demands to know why we don't have more cashiers, then curses and informs me the best method of doing somebody else's job before stalking and jiggling off, it's really hard not to kill her. If I did kill her, here's how I would have done it...
I think my implement of choice would have been a very dull, very rusty spoon, but I didn't have many of those on hand. A pen or box-cutter would have sufficed. I would have slashed and stabbed my way through all of her kin until I reached my true victim. Binding her wrists and ankles, I would have flayed her blubbery ass alive and stretched her bloody skin across the entrance to the service desk. I would have ground her eyes, heart and teeth into a bloody paste, which I would then use to paint "FUCK OFF" across her hide. I would make sure that the remaining organs were full of holes, to ensure that nobody would salvage them and perpetuate such flawed DNA. Then I would have clocked out and flipped off every customer between my car and myself. Lastly, just to put the metaphorical cherry on top, I would go find somebody's chihuahua and run the little bastard over... Gawd, I hate those dogs.
~Le sigh.~ I feel better, now. It's just really, really crappy to be treated like dirt and yelled at for something that's not my fault! It's not even in my power to change! It's not in anyone's power to change! What are we supposed to do? Yank out cashiers' fingernails until they agree to work overnights? Jesus, people! If you want more cashiers at Wal-Mart at almost 10 at night, take the job yourself! Otherwise, keep your bloody mouth shut. Fifteen minutes in a line is not going to kill you...
I should find an anger management class, instead of taking my rage out on chairs that I find by a dumpster... Poor chair never hurt anybody before... Never will, now that I'm done with the damn thing...
If you've heard read my rants about Wal-Mart, stupid people, and other things that make me angry, you probably have a decent idea of what my temper is like. From what I understand, Irish girls usually have a quick temper that burns hot enough to strike fear into the heart of any man... and certain National Parks. That stereotype might have gotten started by one of my ancestors.
Tonight, for instance, I had to leave work fifteen minutes early to ensure that I did not eviscerate a customer. (Mind you, eviscerating her would have been one hell of a job. She was at least three times my girth.)
All the same, when a morbidly obese woman waddles up to the customer service desk and demands to know why we don't have more cashiers, then curses and informs me the best method of doing somebody else's job before stalking and jiggling off, it's really hard not to kill her. If I did kill her, here's how I would have done it...
I think my implement of choice would have been a very dull, very rusty spoon, but I didn't have many of those on hand. A pen or box-cutter would have sufficed. I would have slashed and stabbed my way through all of her kin until I reached my true victim. Binding her wrists and ankles, I would have flayed her blubbery ass alive and stretched her bloody skin across the entrance to the service desk. I would have ground her eyes, heart and teeth into a bloody paste, which I would then use to paint "FUCK OFF" across her hide. I would make sure that the remaining organs were full of holes, to ensure that nobody would salvage them and perpetuate such flawed DNA. Then I would have clocked out and flipped off every customer between my car and myself. Lastly, just to put the metaphorical cherry on top, I would go find somebody's chihuahua and run the little bastard over... Gawd, I hate those dogs.
~Le sigh.~ I feel better, now. It's just really, really crappy to be treated like dirt and yelled at for something that's not my fault! It's not even in my power to change! It's not in anyone's power to change! What are we supposed to do? Yank out cashiers' fingernails until they agree to work overnights? Jesus, people! If you want more cashiers at Wal-Mart at almost 10 at night, take the job yourself! Otherwise, keep your bloody mouth shut. Fifteen minutes in a line is not going to kill you...
I should find an anger management class, instead of taking my rage out on chairs that I find by a dumpster... Poor chair never hurt anybody before... Never will, now that I'm done with the damn thing...
Friday, June 27, 2008
Deep Thoughts, pt 1
Mmkay, anybody here ever heard of Fable? If you haven't, I pity you. It's some of the most fun you can have with your clothes on (unless you do a lot of gaming in the nude). Pretty good Action/Adventure game, set in a Fantasy world. The thing I love about it is the Personality/Alignment system. Every little choice you make affects whether you're evil or good, naughty or nice. Known for beating on civilians? People will run from you in terror. Defended a village under siege by bandits? Townsfolk will cheer and whistle as you pass. Wear dark and creepy clothes? Girls won't respond to your advances. Eat the wrong kinds of foods? You'll get fat.
It's only a game, but I can't help but think deep thoughts about how very similar that is to real life. We are shaped, affected, by every single little choice we make. Should you eat baked chicken or fried zucchini? Do you replace the toilet paper when you use it up? Do you go out of your way to be nice to somebody, or snicker and tell them how horrible they look in that color? When a baby starts crying on a plane, do you shrug it off or glare daggers at the parents?
Sure, villagers probably won't go running in terror from you, and children probably won't cheer and collect dolls in your image, but I can't deny that Fable is, in some respects, so very real. So much of us is made up of all our 'little' choices.
It's only a game, but I can't help but think deep thoughts about how very similar that is to real life. We are shaped, affected, by every single little choice we make. Should you eat baked chicken or fried zucchini? Do you replace the toilet paper when you use it up? Do you go out of your way to be nice to somebody, or snicker and tell them how horrible they look in that color? When a baby starts crying on a plane, do you shrug it off or glare daggers at the parents?
Sure, villagers probably won't go running in terror from you, and children probably won't cheer and collect dolls in your image, but I can't deny that Fable is, in some respects, so very real. So much of us is made up of all our 'little' choices.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Rings n Things
SWEET AND MUSHY ALERT!!!
I've totally been putting this off...
So, anybody who reads Herr Doktor's blog will know that he wishes to marry me.
Nothing could make me happier.
Brian is, hands down, the best partner I've ever had. He takes care of me, supports me, and goes far out of his way to make sure that I have a good day. Every day. He gets along great with my family, and he's not bothered by the fact that one of my brothers is autistic. He's always sweet and understanding, and doesn't mind indulging my goofy and/or geeky tendencies. He's intelligent, and, even if I weren't in love with him, he'd be a blast to hang around. It feels like we match in every way. Oh. And he's really, really hawt. Like, sizzling-to-the-touch hawt. I am convinced that I am the luckiest girl in the world to have him.
Technically, we're not engaged yet. We must still decide upon a ring which is pleasing to both our tastes and our coffers, and Brian still has to get down on bended knee. All the same, the last couple weeks have felt... Different. The future is a little more certain, and I feel just a little happier.
For me, Brian is proof that prayers really are answered.
I've totally been putting this off...
So, anybody who reads Herr Doktor's blog will know that he wishes to marry me.
Nothing could make me happier.
Brian is, hands down, the best partner I've ever had. He takes care of me, supports me, and goes far out of his way to make sure that I have a good day. Every day. He gets along great with my family, and he's not bothered by the fact that one of my brothers is autistic. He's always sweet and understanding, and doesn't mind indulging my goofy and/or geeky tendencies. He's intelligent, and, even if I weren't in love with him, he'd be a blast to hang around. It feels like we match in every way. Oh. And he's really, really hawt. Like, sizzling-to-the-touch hawt. I am convinced that I am the luckiest girl in the world to have him.
Technically, we're not engaged yet. We must still decide upon a ring which is pleasing to both our tastes and our coffers, and Brian still has to get down on bended knee. All the same, the last couple weeks have felt... Different. The future is a little more certain, and I feel just a little happier.
For me, Brian is proof that prayers really are answered.
Digital Purgatory
For those of you who haven't noticed, I'm not Christian anymore. I was raised Catholic by a very strict mother, which is basically what killed it for me. All the same, lets assume that maybe, maybe, there is a Hell. I will be in the best of company when (if) I finally go there.
George Carlin was a fantastic comedian. He had a certain disregard for what was good and/or proper, which I admired greatly. He made jokes about disgusting, terrible things, which I admired even more. And he approached the subject of religion with a biting, vicious sarcasm that made it clear that this was a man after my own heart.
Perhaps it's silly of me to miss someone so much without ever
having met them... Yeah, fuck that noise. I identified with George, I loved his sense of humor, I thought more people should listen to his points regarding religion, and I'm sorry that he's gone.
Perhaps that's why there's a brand spanking new folder on my desktop with the title "Dead People." It already plays host to four departed souls that I think the world is worse off without, one of them being the revered Mr. Carlin. He will always be towards the front of my Purgatory Parade. (Those not getting the joke should look up his "It's bad for ya!" HBO special.)
Farewell, George. We'll miss you.
George Carlin May 12, 1937 - June 22, 2008
George Carlin was a fantastic comedian. He had a certain disregard for what was good and/or proper, which I admired greatly. He made jokes about disgusting, terrible things, which I admired even more. And he approached the subject of religion with a biting, vicious sarcasm that made it clear that this was a man after my own heart.
Perhaps it's silly of me to miss someone so much without ever
having met them... Yeah, fuck that noise. I identified with George, I loved his sense of humor, I thought more people should listen to his points regarding religion, and I'm sorry that he's gone.Perhaps that's why there's a brand spanking new folder on my desktop with the title "Dead People." It already plays host to four departed souls that I think the world is worse off without, one of them being the revered Mr. Carlin. He will always be towards the front of my Purgatory Parade. (Those not getting the joke should look up his "It's bad for ya!" HBO special.)
Farewell, George. We'll miss you.
George Carlin May 12, 1937 - June 22, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
~POOF~
You can learn a lot from trees. How to stand tall. When the seasons change. The importance of girth. But, sexual innuendo aside, trees really can be amazing. For instance-About a week ago, nearly every tree in Laramie was bereft of leaves. Since it still snows this late in the year, it was still too risky for them to bloom. They knew this. And yet, in one week's time, every deciduous tree in this entire suck-hole has donned fresh, green raiment. Soft, shiny leaves have emerged so damn fast that I didn't even notice the transition. It was just BAM! Lookit me, I'mma leafy tree!
Don't you wish people could be like that? Ever wanted to always know what was too risky? Wanted to wait with infinite patience for the perfect opportunity? Wished you could get something done before anyone can blink? Those are skills I would kill to have. It doesn't seem fair that trees just start that way.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Lucky Rabbit Feet!
Sometimes I really have to be reminded how lucky I am. I command an excellent grasp of the English language, decent Spanish and Mandarin, and pygmy Japanese. I love to read and play video games, both of which are things I'm good at. I definitely play Go* pretty well, considering I've only been playing for a little over one year. I play flute and piano, not as beautifully as I once did, but probably better than most when I'm up to practice. I sing soprano well enough to score a 39 out of 40 points in judge competition. And, apparently, my hair is to die for.
So I'm really, really glad I'm not this chick.
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/999831/XXXbloodyrists666XXX
Living proof that idiots are living among us, Tara Gilesbie writes bad fanfiction in a desperate attempt to increase her self-esteem. Not only is the "story" bad, the spelling is atrocious! The grammar is a travesty! And Tara herself has major issues. Check these out-
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1414686/TwilaBeautifulPsycoTopazCullen
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1043410/xxxbloodykisses666xxx
Two additional profiles, but, if you'll notice, they all feature the same slang, same spelling and grammar errors, and same formatting. For instance, the
XXXXXX666XXXXXX
pops up repeatedly between sections. Also, all three authors claim to hate the same things (posers, preps, pink, Avril Lavigne) and listen to the same music (Good Charlotte, Evanesence, MCR, Avril Lavigne). There are shameless plugs for each author on each profile. Each author, at the beginning of each chapter, has an author's note denouncing all the "preps" who give her bad reviews.
Totally the same person.
I feel lucky, because I've come to terms with the fact that some people will hate me, the things I love, and my ideas. I don't have to create alternate selves in an attempt to escape that. I don't have to write a fantasy world to insert myself into to feel good about myself. I have pride in my abilities and believe it's justified.
Oh, and I know how to spell.
So I'm really, really glad I'm not this chick.
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/999831/XXXbloodyrists666XXX
Living proof that idiots are living among us, Tara Gilesbie writes bad fanfiction in a desperate attempt to increase her self-esteem. Not only is the "story" bad, the spelling is atrocious! The grammar is a travesty! And Tara herself has major issues. Check these out-
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1414686/TwilaBeautifulPsycoTopazCullen
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1043410/xxxbloodykisses666xxx
Two additional profiles, but, if you'll notice, they all feature the same slang, same spelling and grammar errors, and same formatting. For instance, the
XXXXXX666XXXXXX
pops up repeatedly between sections. Also, all three authors claim to hate the same things (posers, preps, pink, Avril Lavigne) and listen to the same music (Good Charlotte, Evanesence, MCR, Avril Lavigne). There are shameless plugs for each author on each profile. Each author, at the beginning of each chapter, has an author's note denouncing all the "preps" who give her bad reviews.
Totally the same person.
I feel lucky, because I've come to terms with the fact that some people will hate me, the things I love, and my ideas. I don't have to create alternate selves in an attempt to escape that. I don't have to write a fantasy world to insert myself into to feel good about myself. I have pride in my abilities and believe it's justified.
Oh, and I know how to spell.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Redefine My World
Hoo, boy. So much has happened since I've last blogged. Let's go down the list-
I thought my nephew was dead. I got a call the Tuesday after Easter from my brother, who said that his ill-begotten son had died early in the morning. So, now, I find out that the mother LIED about miscarrying. My niece was born Wednesday, May 14th. Her name is Accadia Lynn. She weighs 7 pounds, some ounces, has a head full of darkish hair and very blue eyes. And I am going to beat her lying slut of a mother into a vegetable state.
My brother graduated. Despite how close he came to not making it, he has succeeded with flying colors. I was so very proud of him that I decorated his car to show my happiness. Then we threw water balloons at each other. It was kewl.
Tornadoes are NOT impossible at 7,000 feet above sea level. I know this, because we had two (count 'em!) on Herr Doktor's birthday. We spent our respective Thursdays huddled in basements and bathrooms, texting each other and thinking, "Now, how the HELL did this happen?"
That is, in fact, a fantastic question. A tornado requires both warm, moist air and cool, dry air. When an air stream hits a mountain range, it is forced upwards. This upward motion causes moisture to condense and fall to earth, in addition to a large loss of heat. Thus, the mountains basically prevent the formation of a tornado, because the necessary air currents almost never make it to the top.
So, ya. Between babies coming back to life, my youngest brother pwnzing high school, and tornadoes dropping on Laramie, I would say that several bits of impossible have dropped on my head.
I thought my nephew was dead. I got a call the Tuesday after Easter from my brother, who said that his ill-begotten son had died early in the morning. So, now, I find out that the mother LIED about miscarrying. My niece was born Wednesday, May 14th. Her name is Accadia Lynn. She weighs 7 pounds, some ounces, has a head full of darkish hair and very blue eyes. And I am going to beat her lying slut of a mother into a vegetable state.
My brother graduated. Despite how close he came to not making it, he has succeeded with flying colors. I was so very proud of him that I decorated his car to show my happiness. Then we threw water balloons at each other. It was kewl.
Tornadoes are NOT impossible at 7,000 feet above sea level. I know this, because we had two (count 'em!) on Herr Doktor's birthday. We spent our respective Thursdays huddled in basements and bathrooms, texting each other and thinking, "Now, how the HELL did this happen?"
That is, in fact, a fantastic question. A tornado requires both warm, moist air and cool, dry air. When an air stream hits a mountain range, it is forced upwards. This upward motion causes moisture to condense and fall to earth, in addition to a large loss of heat. Thus, the mountains basically prevent the formation of a tornado, because the necessary air currents almost never make it to the top.
So, ya. Between babies coming back to life, my youngest brother pwnzing high school, and tornadoes dropping on Laramie, I would say that several bits of impossible have dropped on my head.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Were It So Easy...
So, for those of you who've been living under a ROCK and haven't played, seen, or at least heard of HALO, let me sum it up for you.
Earth. In the future.
Alien religious zealots known as the Covenant start a big, fat war with Earth, babbling something about how they're the righteous souls in the universe and how all of us humans are dirty, icky insects that should be destroyed. During the course of this war, one particularly bad-ass soldier, known as Spartan 117 or the Master Chief, discovers a strange structure called a HALO. It's the size of a fairly hefty planet, but it's a perfectly flat, terra-formed ring. Hence the name. Well, turns out that all the HALOs are actually gigantic incendiary devices that will actually destroy every sentient being in the galaxy if they go off.
Now, why would anybody build something like that? Why, to contain the Flood, of course! The Flood are... icky. They are a collective consciousness, made up of billions of what used to be sentient beings. Once infected, however, any personality or intelligence they once had is absorbed into the whole. The Flood is more than capable of consuming every living thing in the universe, which is why the HALOs were built- to kill their food.
The trilogy is quite the firefight between Earth's Marines, the Covenant, Covenant outcasts, and the Flood themselves. It ends when Master Chief finds a single HALO that's outside the range of the rest. Luring the Flood there and detonating the thing would only destroy them. So, that's what you do.
You walk onto a planet-sized bomb, HOPING that a lethal enemy will follow you en masse, then you arm this gigantic bomb and try to get the hell out of Dodge. Now, this HALO doesn't explode all at once. No, sir, it blows up in little bits and pieces while you're wrestling with an SUV and trying to drive the twenty some miles to your ship so you don't go splat. Entire pieces of terrain will explode and blow debris everywhere, crap you're currently driving on will fall into a mass of fire and molten steel, and the Flood is still trying to kill you. Believe it or not, it is still kind of fun. And you can have some very interesting conversations when you're trying to reach that damn ship.
Doktor: Wait! Stop! Stop! You need to go left here!
Bunny: What??? Eeek! *GAME OVER*
Doktor: Okay! Get there again... See! There! Go left!
Bunny: Like this?
Doktor: No, now you're trapped.
Bunny: I thought you said go LEFT?!
Doktor: I did!
Bunny: I WENT LEFT!
Doktor: Well, you went left too soon.
Bunny: Oookay... I'm there again. So I go straight?
Doktor: No, right now you need to go right.
Bunny: ??? The way I was going to go in the first place?
Doktor: Yes, now you can go left. JESUS! HOLE! HOLE!
Bunny: What??? Eeek! *GAME OVER*
Doktor: I told you there was a hole there!
Bunny: I DIDN'T SEE IT!
Doktor: Okay, go around the hole... Umm... Look... Look... DO YOU SEE THE GIGANTIC PILLAR FALLING DOWN IN FRONT OF YOU?!
Bunny: YES! YES! I SEE THE GIGANTIC PILLAR! *barely escapes certain death*
Doktor: Now, you need to watch it up here... The path is really narrow...
Bunny: What??? Eeek! *barely escapes certain death*
Doktor: I TOLD YOU THE PATH WAS NARROW!
Bunny: YOU NEVER MENTIONED HOW NARROW! YOU DID NOT GIVE DIMENSIONS!
Doktor: But I told you!
Bunny: ... I still didn't fall off!
Doktor: Barely... Oh! Oh! There's the ship! Go! Go! Gun it! Go!
Bunny: I see it! I see it!
Together: Yaaaaaa...!!!
Earth. In the future.
Alien religious zealots known as the Covenant start a big, fat war with Earth, babbling something about how they're the righteous souls in the universe and how all of us humans are dirty, icky insects that should be destroyed. During the course of this war, one particularly bad-ass soldier, known as Spartan 117 or the Master Chief, discovers a strange structure called a HALO. It's the size of a fairly hefty planet, but it's a perfectly flat, terra-formed ring. Hence the name. Well, turns out that all the HALOs are actually gigantic incendiary devices that will actually destroy every sentient being in the galaxy if they go off.
Now, why would anybody build something like that? Why, to contain the Flood, of course! The Flood are... icky. They are a collective consciousness, made up of billions of what used to be sentient beings. Once infected, however, any personality or intelligence they once had is absorbed into the whole. The Flood is more than capable of consuming every living thing in the universe, which is why the HALOs were built- to kill their food.
The trilogy is quite the firefight between Earth's Marines, the Covenant, Covenant outcasts, and the Flood themselves. It ends when Master Chief finds a single HALO that's outside the range of the rest. Luring the Flood there and detonating the thing would only destroy them. So, that's what you do.
You walk onto a planet-sized bomb, HOPING that a lethal enemy will follow you en masse, then you arm this gigantic bomb and try to get the hell out of Dodge. Now, this HALO doesn't explode all at once. No, sir, it blows up in little bits and pieces while you're wrestling with an SUV and trying to drive the twenty some miles to your ship so you don't go splat. Entire pieces of terrain will explode and blow debris everywhere, crap you're currently driving on will fall into a mass of fire and molten steel, and the Flood is still trying to kill you. Believe it or not, it is still kind of fun. And you can have some very interesting conversations when you're trying to reach that damn ship.
Doktor: Wait! Stop! Stop! You need to go left here!
Bunny: What??? Eeek! *GAME OVER*
Doktor: Okay! Get there again... See! There! Go left!
Bunny: Like this?
Doktor: No, now you're trapped.
Bunny: I thought you said go LEFT?!
Doktor: I did!
Bunny: I WENT LEFT!
Doktor: Well, you went left too soon.
Bunny: Oookay... I'm there again. So I go straight?
Doktor: No, right now you need to go right.
Bunny: ??? The way I was going to go in the first place?
Doktor: Yes, now you can go left. JESUS! HOLE! HOLE!
Bunny: What??? Eeek! *GAME OVER*
Doktor: I told you there was a hole there!
Bunny: I DIDN'T SEE IT!
Doktor: Okay, go around the hole... Umm... Look... Look... DO YOU SEE THE GIGANTIC PILLAR FALLING DOWN IN FRONT OF YOU?!
Bunny: YES! YES! I SEE THE GIGANTIC PILLAR! *barely escapes certain death*
Doktor: Now, you need to watch it up here... The path is really narrow...
Bunny: What??? Eeek! *barely escapes certain death*
Doktor: I TOLD YOU THE PATH WAS NARROW!
Bunny: YOU NEVER MENTIONED HOW NARROW! YOU DID NOT GIVE DIMENSIONS!
Doktor: But I told you!
Bunny: ... I still didn't fall off!
Doktor: Barely... Oh! Oh! There's the ship! Go! Go! Gun it! Go!
Bunny: I see it! I see it!
Together: Yaaaaaa...!!!
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Silly Rabbit! Trix are for kids!
So... Nobody who enjoys peace, quiet, or sanity should ever give me sugar. And, for the love of all that's good and holy, keep Herr Doktor away from caffeine. These are three of the conversations we've had tonight-
"I don't want to get older."
"We don't have to. We can go to Neverland!"
"... Those guys are total pansies, though..."
"We can be the badass ones! We'll carry samurai swords and brutally execute all the pirates in public! We'll be worshiped as heroes!"
"And we can kick Peter Pan right in the balls."
"Yeah! We'll get his pixie little fag hag, too!"
"Hey, Tinkerbell! I DON'T BELIEVE IN FAIRIES!"
*cough**hack*
*CLAP CLAP CLAP*
"Tinkerbell... I don't believe in fairies!"
*cough**hack*
*CLAP CLAP CLAP*
"Stop! *cough* I'll tell you anything you want, just please stop hurting me!"
"We don't really want anything... We just wanna see you bleed..."
"I can't open this bottle... Big Strong Man! Report!"
"Big Strong Man, ready for duty!"
"Open this thing."
"Ummm... Let's see... There's that plastic thingie there... I think this is actually a job for Sharp Thing Man!"
"Isn't Sharp Thing Man your dark and edgy alter-ego? I mean, Big Stong Man and Sharp Thing Man are never in the same place at the same time. That, and you look a lot alike- guh!" *STABBITY STAB STAB*
"Jiiiggly puff... Jigglyyy-yyy puff... Gooo to sleeep and I will eeeat your feeet..."
"What the fuck?! Jiggly Puff isn't a predator!"
"Not necessarily. Notice the large eyes set in the front of the head. I bet, if its owners don't lock the Pokeball tight, Jiggly Puff will crawl out, sing them deep into sleep, and then gouge a BIG FUCKING HOLE in their thigh and let them bleed to death..."
So, yeah, no sugar for us.
"I don't want to get older."
"We don't have to. We can go to Neverland!"
"... Those guys are total pansies, though..."
"We can be the badass ones! We'll carry samurai swords and brutally execute all the pirates in public! We'll be worshiped as heroes!"
"And we can kick Peter Pan right in the balls."
"Yeah! We'll get his pixie little fag hag, too!"
"Hey, Tinkerbell! I DON'T BELIEVE IN FAIRIES!"
*cough**hack*
*CLAP CLAP CLAP*
"Tinkerbell... I don't believe in fairies!"
*cough**hack*
*CLAP CLAP CLAP*
"Stop! *cough* I'll tell you anything you want, just please stop hurting me!"
"We don't really want anything... We just wanna see you bleed..."
"I can't open this bottle... Big Strong Man! Report!"
"Big Strong Man, ready for duty!"
"Open this thing."
"Ummm... Let's see... There's that plastic thingie there... I think this is actually a job for Sharp Thing Man!"
"Isn't Sharp Thing Man your dark and edgy alter-ego? I mean, Big Stong Man and Sharp Thing Man are never in the same place at the same time. That, and you look a lot alike- guh!" *STABBITY STAB STAB*
"Jiiiggly puff... Jigglyyy-yyy puff... Gooo to sleeep and I will eeeat your feeet..."
"What the fuck?! Jiggly Puff isn't a predator!"
"Not necessarily. Notice the large eyes set in the front of the head. I bet, if its owners don't lock the Pokeball tight, Jiggly Puff will crawl out, sing them deep into sleep, and then gouge a BIG FUCKING HOLE in their thigh and let them bleed to death..."
So, yeah, no sugar for us.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Proud parents of a bigot, reprise!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtDpEBfNEg8&NR=1
Stupid, stupid people.
I decided yesterday to follow up on this story, since I hadn't heard anything else about it. Perhaps a mistake on my part. Needless to say, there are a lot of people who were offended by Representative Kern's remarks. That still doesn't make it a good idea to write emails saying "You should be killed," or "Do the world a favor and kill yourself."
Kern honestly believes that members of the homosexual community and the Muslim community are easily moved to vice and violence. When you send an email like that, you only convince her that she's right, and you give her ammunition to fire back with. People are going to rally to her cause because she's being attacked and threatened.
Don't get me wrong. I hate the things this woman thinks and says. I don't feel much kindness toward her, either. But responding exactly the way she thinks we will, maybe even the way she WANTS US TO, is not going to help.
She wants to convince the world that we're evil, and we're laying evidence to support her claims at her feet.
I'm not saying she shouldn't be punished. Lawmakers and elected officials are supposed to be able to separate their personal bias from legal decisions, (*cough*SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE*cough*) which she obviously can't do. As such, she should not be allowed to retain her position as a member of the government. But death threats aren't going to do much, people. And you probably won't get anywhere telling her how mean she is. All I'm asking is that you not send threats, veiled or no, to someone who already hates us as a whole.
Don't make this worse.
Stupid, stupid people.
I decided yesterday to follow up on this story, since I hadn't heard anything else about it. Perhaps a mistake on my part. Needless to say, there are a lot of people who were offended by Representative Kern's remarks. That still doesn't make it a good idea to write emails saying "You should be killed," or "Do the world a favor and kill yourself."
Kern honestly believes that members of the homosexual community and the Muslim community are easily moved to vice and violence. When you send an email like that, you only convince her that she's right, and you give her ammunition to fire back with. People are going to rally to her cause because she's being attacked and threatened.
Don't get me wrong. I hate the things this woman thinks and says. I don't feel much kindness toward her, either. But responding exactly the way she thinks we will, maybe even the way she WANTS US TO, is not going to help.
She wants to convince the world that we're evil, and we're laying evidence to support her claims at her feet.
I'm not saying she shouldn't be punished. Lawmakers and elected officials are supposed to be able to separate their personal bias from legal decisions, (*cough*SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE*cough*) which she obviously can't do. As such, she should not be allowed to retain her position as a member of the government. But death threats aren't going to do much, people. And you probably won't get anywhere telling her how mean she is. All I'm asking is that you not send threats, veiled or no, to someone who already hates us as a whole.
Don't make this worse.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Returning to Earth
Some thoughts from the last few weeks...
If blizzards and thunderstorms are "Nature's Fury," does that mean that Nature is always angry? Does Nature need therapy?
If someone dumps you, do they still have the right to make jokes about your fabulous ass?
If everything is coming to life in the spring, does someone have to die to balance it all out?
Customers suck. A lot.
You can miss somebody without ever knowing them.
You can miss people you knew, too.
Xiyi Zhang is hawt.
Chinese New Year is as old as (if not older than) Christianity. Why does nobody know about Chinese New Year?
I am learning to cook. The world is ENDING.
I have a Perfect Companion. Complete with sharp things.
Chinese is becoming strangely easy to speak and understand.
My retainers give me a lisp. THAT DRIVES ME NUTS.
Herr Doktor and I should have another Mad Tea Party... And we should invite the Sparkly Lady. =D
I should ignore deliberate, drunken cruelty.
I should not do something illegal just to get back at people I hate and want to kill.
Karma works really, REALLY slowly...
For some reason, my boyfriend's clothing is SOOO comfortable.
Even if I've fought with a friend, I find myself missing them.
If you tell people that you got a tattoo on April Fool's Day, they believe you. >=}
I'd forgotten what it was like to eat crunchy food.
I need more books.
I hate the new singer for Nightwish. She belongs on American Idol.
I don't want to drive to New York.
My mother's boyfriend scares the piss out of me.
Even if they're only 18, my brother and his affianced are happy together. I won't begrudge them that much.
I think my mother's losing it. (What she had for "it" to begin with, anyway.)
Underwear with skulls on it is a good purchase.
I'm going to call my nephew Imriel.
I should write a letter to Nana.
Penguins are cute. Period.
If blizzards and thunderstorms are "Nature's Fury," does that mean that Nature is always angry? Does Nature need therapy?
If someone dumps you, do they still have the right to make jokes about your fabulous ass?
If everything is coming to life in the spring, does someone have to die to balance it all out?
Customers suck. A lot.
You can miss somebody without ever knowing them.
You can miss people you knew, too.
Xiyi Zhang is hawt.
Chinese New Year is as old as (if not older than) Christianity. Why does nobody know about Chinese New Year?
I am learning to cook. The world is ENDING.
I have a Perfect Companion. Complete with sharp things.
Chinese is becoming strangely easy to speak and understand.
My retainers give me a lisp. THAT DRIVES ME NUTS.
Herr Doktor and I should have another Mad Tea Party... And we should invite the Sparkly Lady. =D
I should ignore deliberate, drunken cruelty.
I should not do something illegal just to get back at people I hate and want to kill.
Karma works really, REALLY slowly...
For some reason, my boyfriend's clothing is SOOO comfortable.
Even if I've fought with a friend, I find myself missing them.
If you tell people that you got a tattoo on April Fool's Day, they believe you. >=}
I'd forgotten what it was like to eat crunchy food.
I need more books.
I hate the new singer for Nightwish. She belongs on American Idol.
I don't want to drive to New York.
My mother's boyfriend scares the piss out of me.
Even if they're only 18, my brother and his affianced are happy together. I won't begrudge them that much.
I think my mother's losing it. (What she had for "it" to begin with, anyway.)
Underwear with skulls on it is a good purchase.
I'm going to call my nephew Imriel.
I should write a letter to Nana.
Penguins are cute. Period.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Soundproof your walls.
So... Herr Doktor and I have been moving our stuff to the larger of the two bedrooms in our apartment over the last few days. We didn't really take into consideration how much closer the larger bedroom is to our neighbors' domicile. All the same, we decided to celebrate with a tea party last night. We had crumpets, floppy hats, and nylon rope. Needless to say, the delicate conversation enjoyed during a tea party can get a little loud, and I think it might have bothered the neighbors a little bit. During a break in the action we heard a series of coughs, and they sounded a little on the deliberate side. We decided to figure out about how much they COULD hear. Close investigation revealed that we could figure out what kind of TV show they were watching. Last night, it was the news. Tomorrow, who knows?
Friday, March 14, 2008
Congratulations! You're the proud parent of a bigot!
Ugh. This is disgusting. Representative Kern from Oklahoma, taking good care of the people who elected her...
http://www.hrcactioncenter.org/campaign/ok_rep_sally_kern_cen/638xxe2l7bewkjj?
And I quote...
"I'm not anti-Gay, and I'm not Gay bashing... ... Gay people are going to destroy this nation..."
What... the... hell?
I can't really sum up my thoughts on this woman. I'm enraged that an elected official has such blatant disregard for the separation of Church and State and the rights and feelings of people she represents. I know she's lying when she says that "studies have shown" that any society that "completely embraces homosexuality" can't last more than "a few decades." It's outrageous when she says that Gays are trying to "indoctrinate" two year-old children via the school system. (Umm, since when do two-year olds go to school, anyway?)
Wow, even though she's a Representative, she sure doesn't try to protect her people, does she?
Here's a thought, lady-
You want to go to church. Fine. You go.
You want to bash the GBLT community. Do it at church.
You want to lie? Do it at church.
You want to call GBLT Americans "the biggest threat to this country?" Do it at church.
If you want to hide behind the long-standing political shelter of children? Start arresting, castrating, and executing pedophiles!
If you want to use your power appropriately? Stop encouraging bigotry and hate crimes just because YOU disagree with us.
I am not a threat to this country. Cody is not a threat. Eric, for all his talk, wouldn't hurt a fly. Neither would Jon. Same for Jim! And Squid! And Nicole! Really, all we want is to live our lives and be happy with them! Is that so much to ask?
http://www.hrcactioncenter.org/campaign/ok_rep_sally_kern_cen/638xxe2l7bewkjj?
And I quote...
"I'm not anti-Gay, and I'm not Gay bashing... ... Gay people are going to destroy this nation..."
What... the... hell?
I can't really sum up my thoughts on this woman. I'm enraged that an elected official has such blatant disregard for the separation of Church and State and the rights and feelings of people she represents. I know she's lying when she says that "studies have shown" that any society that "completely embraces homosexuality" can't last more than "a few decades." It's outrageous when she says that Gays are trying to "indoctrinate" two year-old children via the school system. (Umm, since when do two-year olds go to school, anyway?)
Wow, even though she's a Representative, she sure doesn't try to protect her people, does she?
Here's a thought, lady-
You want to go to church. Fine. You go.
You want to bash the GBLT community. Do it at church.
You want to lie? Do it at church.
You want to call GBLT Americans "the biggest threat to this country?" Do it at church.
If you want to hide behind the long-standing political shelter of children? Start arresting, castrating, and executing pedophiles!
If you want to use your power appropriately? Stop encouraging bigotry and hate crimes just because YOU disagree with us.
I am not a threat to this country. Cody is not a threat. Eric, for all his talk, wouldn't hurt a fly. Neither would Jon. Same for Jim! And Squid! And Nicole! Really, all we want is to live our lives and be happy with them! Is that so much to ask?
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Happiness = ?
So, Herr Doktor just had a rather strange revelation regarding the nature of happiness. I decided to share.
"So... I just had a new definition of happiness occur to me... Having a home, with a wonderful girl and a large supply of toilet paper."
"So... I just had a new definition of happiness occur to me... Having a home, with a wonderful girl and a large supply of toilet paper."
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Brace face no more!
Things I learned from the day I (finally) got my braces off-
Holding still while somebody has sharp pokies and/or a drill in your mouth is a really, REALLY good idea.
If it feels like your teeth are going to come out, don't panic. If anything, they'll stay in your jaw long enough to get cavities. Just to piss you off.
Your dentist wasn't lying when he said soda would leave stains.
People WILL try to kill you with their cars immediately after you have important dental work done.
Take pictures first thing. Your family will demand them.
It feels weird not to have a satellite array in your mouth. REALLY WEIRD.
Even the most bratty, obnoxious children can be cute for a second or two. And I quote- "I'm gonna pee outside!"
Change is scary. You'll miss the metal and the scarring and the appliances before long.
Anything worth doing is worth doing well.
You smile a lot more when you like your smile.
When you start something, see it though to the end. No matter what a PAIN it turns out to be.
$4,300 and five years might have been worth it.
Holding still while somebody has sharp pokies and/or a drill in your mouth is a really, REALLY good idea.
If it feels like your teeth are going to come out, don't panic. If anything, they'll stay in your jaw long enough to get cavities. Just to piss you off.
Your dentist wasn't lying when he said soda would leave stains.
People WILL try to kill you with their cars immediately after you have important dental work done.
Take pictures first thing. Your family will demand them.
It feels weird not to have a satellite array in your mouth. REALLY WEIRD.
Even the most bratty, obnoxious children can be cute for a second or two. And I quote- "I'm gonna pee outside!"
Change is scary. You'll miss the metal and the scarring and the appliances before long.
Anything worth doing is worth doing well.
You smile a lot more when you like your smile.
When you start something, see it though to the end. No matter what a PAIN it turns out to be.
$4,300 and five years might have been worth it.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Weird dreams...
Poor Hawk. This comic is actually referencing hunger-induced hallucinations during *Ramadan, but it fits the bill.
I have really, really weird dreams. I've been asked more times than I can count what kind of crack I'm on. Allow me to give some examples.
Dream #1-
My neighbor's cat turns into the dreaded Catzilla and beings rampaging around downtown Midgar*. Midgar... As in Final Fantasy 7. Yes, AVALANCHE made an appearance. Yuffie and I ended up locking Cloud and Tifa in a closet. (It wasn't iron plated or anything, but, somehow, it managed to hold them. Shinra technology at its finest!) Then Reno produced a keg of booze, and I ended up arm-wrestling with Barret. I think I won, but this was about the point where I woke up.
Dream #2- Herr Doktor and I were on a cruise ship. And we were planning to stage a hostile takeover. I don't know exactly how this was going to work, but I do remember that, if we succeeded, the ship would LEGALLY belong to us. Possession really is 9/10s of the law, ne? There was this lady cop that kept trying to bust us, and she would pop up from around corners and sneak into our room and stuffs. After some naughty action after we caught her in our room, though, she was as law-breaking and devious as we were. (Does that really work?) Alas, I woke up before I became the owner of a cruise ship.
Dream #3-
There was this wheel of cheese. And not just any wheel of cheese. It was a TALKING wheel of cheese. (As a note of interest, the cheese's voice sounded an awful lot like the car in Knight Rider.) Unfortunately, this super awesome wheel of cheese had been cut into pieces and distributed across the globe. It was my destiny to gather the pieces of cheese and SAVE THE WORLD. Don't ask me why the cheese made such a difference. It was magical. 'Nuff said.
Dream #4-
Two words- flying zombies. (I think this is what I get for falling asleep during Reefer Madness.) They were really slow, and had this funny tendency to lose bits as they flew. They ran into stuff, too. But they were still flying zombies. So Herr Doktor and I grabbed some samurai swords (better than a hot, red key card!), enough guns to start a small war, and a grenade launcher (!!) and headed for the local Wal-Mart. BV City has no mall (even in my dreams), so Wal-Mart was the obvious choice.
I'm tellin' ya, folks. WEIRD DREAMS.
And most dreams are, at the most, about fifteen-seconds long... My brain has some freaky time-shift stuff going on if I can mess around with Avalanche for several hours in the space of a few seconds.
Vocabulary
* From Wikipedia- Ramadan is a Muslim religious observance that takes place during the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, believed to be the month in which the Qur'an began to be revealed. The name "Ramadan" is taken from the name of this month; the word itself derived from an Arabic word for intense heat, scorched ground, and shortness of rations. It is considered the most venerated and blessed month of the Islamic year. Prayers, sawm (fasting), charity, and self-accountability are especially stressed at this time; religious observances associated with Ramadan are kept throughout the month.
* Midgar- If you haven't even heard of Midgar, you're pretty lame. Midgar is a gigantic, layered city that's prominently featured in Final Fantasy 7. The upper levels are built on gigantic metal plates, and feature well-made, cookie cutter houses and wealthy inhabitants. Underneath the plates lie the slums, where the houses and streets are made of spare parts and refuse. Slum life is considerably less glamorous, not to mention comfortable. It might have been meant as a political statement for the city to be designed this way. It probably takes its name from Midgard, the mortal realm from Norse Mythology.
Friday, March 7, 2008
On the Plague and Boy Sopranos
WARNING: This turned into a rant before I was done with it. Avert your eyes, ye country music fans.
Six month celebration was rather perfect. Herr Doktor and I sat at home and ate sushi, cuddled, misbehaved, and generally goofed off. 'Course, all that day I did have that scratchy scratchy in the back of my throat which I generally interpret as my body saying "Oh crap, brace yourself!" So when I woke up the next morning I was sweating, shivering, unable to swallow, and kind of freaking miserable. I called in to work.
Today, I'm still a little shivery, a little sweaty, and plenty miserable. I called in to work a second time. This has gotten me thinking-
The hold music at Wal-Mart really sucks. I mean really, REALLY sucks.
First, I was listening to kind of a soul-y groove. It was about five minutes long, and its lyrics, as far as I could make myself listen, consisted of, "Mama, I love you!" The lead vocalist, a decent soprano, was basically repeating that one phrase over and over and over and over with a variation on notes or rhythm here and there. Not pleasant to listen to.
Next, it was a country song. I thank the God and Goddess profusely for only making me listen to about two minutes. There was something about-
"Two young lovers... yadda yadda... river of desire... blah blah... man with a Bible... squishy squishy... Young love... et freaking cetera." If I can't remember lyrics that I heard five minutes ago, they must have really sucked. (Either that, or I'm pretty sick. Could be both.)
I don't necessarily have anything against soul as a genre of music. People can listen to it all they want, as long as I don't have to. Country is another story. I know I'm going to offend somebody when I say this...
I abhor the entire "country" lifestyle. I have nothing against the people, mind you. It's the rodeos, the dirty pickups, the American (or Confederate) flags, the buckle bunnies*, and the country "music" that makes me grind my teeth.
First of all, I feel that the "country" attitude comes off as arrogance. They're proud that they didn't go to college, that they voted Republican, that they believe in God, and that they chew tobacco. (You already know my thoughts on THAT.) So, basically, this attitude perpetuates a lack of education, narrow mindedness, infringing upon the rights of others, and horrific tooth decay. Not to mention the fact that rodeos are brutal animal abuse for the sake of entertainment. Great job, guys! Yup, I'm impressed.
Not everybody holds true to this stereotype, mind you, but keep in mind that I've lived in WYOMING almost my entire life, and I've met an OBSCENE amount of people who probably contributed to the forming of said stereotype.
Now let's get into the "music." From a theory point of view, yes, it counts as music. (Rap does NOT, but that's another can of beans.) Music consists of a melody, a harmony, and a rhythm. The definition doesn't explicitly state that it has to be creative, so country does classify as a form of music. But it's sooo bad.
1. There are three or four different drumbeats that form the background of EVERY country song ever written.
2. There are three or four chords that every country song is written around. Alright, maybe more than three or four. But, from a musical point of view, they are all written in similar keys, and the chords are structured in a similar manner. The result? THEY ALL SOUND EXACTLY THE SAME.
3. Those chords don't change. The keys will rarely change. Plenty of composers can go through more than one key change in the space of four minutes. I've heard heavy metal with more than one key change in four minutes. Why can't country composers do the same? Are they lazy? The music doesn't move or grow because it stays in one bloody key the entire time.
4. They don't pass the melody around.
5. They don't have more than three instruments to pass the melody TO.
6. The chords never use dissonance. Dissonance is fun! Dissonance is interesting! Dissonance causes tension, which helps build the song to a climax!
5. They use one, maybe two, types of cadences (endings). There are at least FIVE types of cadences.
7. The vocalists use horrible technique. Anyone who's actually been in a choir will tell you that conductors HATE bright vowels. The really strong "aaayyyeee" "eee" "iyeee" sounds not only sound worse, but they can actually MAKE YOU FLAT. They will drag you off pitch, and suddenly all the music that's built around the chord you're ruining starts to sound like crap. And almost all country singers sing through their nose. This is only appealing to somebody with an anteater fetish.
8. The lyrics are horrifically uninspired. I think I could defecate more creativity. Let's compare a country song, "Who's your daddy?" to Carmina Burana*.
Carmina Burana features a segment, sung by a tenor, if I remember rightly, that is sung from the point of view of a swan. The swan is lamenting the fact that it has been shot, and its flesh has been roasted until black. Then the mens' choir joins in, rejoicing in the meal to come. Beautiful music, even if the lyrics are a little on the CREEPY side.
"Who's your Daddy?" is a guy on a testosterone trip. He's (from what he tells us) good looking, and, apparently, there's at least one girl who can't get enough of him. They're going to have sex. Hooray. These lyrics are a little on the misogynistic side.
There you have it. Eight reasons, from a girl who's studied music education, why country music SUCKS.
So, here I am, cranky, and feverish. I'm also listening to classical music. The Flower Duet, from Puccini's Madama Butterfly, to be exact. And I'm desperately hoping that spring comes, soon. An end to cold season, some green things outside, warmth, and sunshine. Who knows? Maybe all that growth will prompt a cultural revolution that involves intelligence, class, and musical complexity. >.<
I'm sorry this was so off track. I just got all wrapped up in how much I HATE bad music.
* "Buckle Bunny" is a slightly derogatory slang term that describes, basically, female rodeo groupies. They don't participate in the rodeo, they just go to oogle and perhaps hook up with any impressive male specimens they may see. Go to a rodeo, and they're the ones wearing thongs and lots of make-up.
* Carmina Burana is a famous piece of classical music, also entitled "The Sacred and the Profane." It's arranged for timpani (kettledrums, to you music n00bz) and piano, OR for full orchestra and full choir, with descants by a soprano, a tenor, and a boy soprano. See the full orchestra version if you want an amazing experience.
Six month celebration was rather perfect. Herr Doktor and I sat at home and ate sushi, cuddled, misbehaved, and generally goofed off. 'Course, all that day I did have that scratchy scratchy in the back of my throat which I generally interpret as my body saying "Oh crap, brace yourself!" So when I woke up the next morning I was sweating, shivering, unable to swallow, and kind of freaking miserable. I called in to work.
Today, I'm still a little shivery, a little sweaty, and plenty miserable. I called in to work a second time. This has gotten me thinking-
The hold music at Wal-Mart really sucks. I mean really, REALLY sucks.
First, I was listening to kind of a soul-y groove. It was about five minutes long, and its lyrics, as far as I could make myself listen, consisted of, "Mama, I love you!" The lead vocalist, a decent soprano, was basically repeating that one phrase over and over and over and over with a variation on notes or rhythm here and there. Not pleasant to listen to.
Next, it was a country song. I thank the God and Goddess profusely for only making me listen to about two minutes. There was something about-
"Two young lovers... yadda yadda... river of desire... blah blah... man with a Bible... squishy squishy... Young love... et freaking cetera." If I can't remember lyrics that I heard five minutes ago, they must have really sucked. (Either that, or I'm pretty sick. Could be both.)
I don't necessarily have anything against soul as a genre of music. People can listen to it all they want, as long as I don't have to. Country is another story. I know I'm going to offend somebody when I say this...
I abhor the entire "country" lifestyle. I have nothing against the people, mind you. It's the rodeos, the dirty pickups, the American (or Confederate) flags, the buckle bunnies*, and the country "music" that makes me grind my teeth.
First of all, I feel that the "country" attitude comes off as arrogance. They're proud that they didn't go to college, that they voted Republican, that they believe in God, and that they chew tobacco. (You already know my thoughts on THAT.) So, basically, this attitude perpetuates a lack of education, narrow mindedness, infringing upon the rights of others, and horrific tooth decay. Not to mention the fact that rodeos are brutal animal abuse for the sake of entertainment. Great job, guys! Yup, I'm impressed.
Not everybody holds true to this stereotype, mind you, but keep in mind that I've lived in WYOMING almost my entire life, and I've met an OBSCENE amount of people who probably contributed to the forming of said stereotype.
Now let's get into the "music." From a theory point of view, yes, it counts as music. (Rap does NOT, but that's another can of beans.) Music consists of a melody, a harmony, and a rhythm. The definition doesn't explicitly state that it has to be creative, so country does classify as a form of music. But it's sooo bad.
1. There are three or four different drumbeats that form the background of EVERY country song ever written.
2. There are three or four chords that every country song is written around. Alright, maybe more than three or four. But, from a musical point of view, they are all written in similar keys, and the chords are structured in a similar manner. The result? THEY ALL SOUND EXACTLY THE SAME.
3. Those chords don't change. The keys will rarely change. Plenty of composers can go through more than one key change in the space of four minutes. I've heard heavy metal with more than one key change in four minutes. Why can't country composers do the same? Are they lazy? The music doesn't move or grow because it stays in one bloody key the entire time.
4. They don't pass the melody around.
5. They don't have more than three instruments to pass the melody TO.
6. The chords never use dissonance. Dissonance is fun! Dissonance is interesting! Dissonance causes tension, which helps build the song to a climax!
5. They use one, maybe two, types of cadences (endings). There are at least FIVE types of cadences.
7. The vocalists use horrible technique. Anyone who's actually been in a choir will tell you that conductors HATE bright vowels. The really strong "aaayyyeee" "eee" "iyeee" sounds not only sound worse, but they can actually MAKE YOU FLAT. They will drag you off pitch, and suddenly all the music that's built around the chord you're ruining starts to sound like crap. And almost all country singers sing through their nose. This is only appealing to somebody with an anteater fetish.
8. The lyrics are horrifically uninspired. I think I could defecate more creativity. Let's compare a country song, "Who's your daddy?" to Carmina Burana*.
Carmina Burana features a segment, sung by a tenor, if I remember rightly, that is sung from the point of view of a swan. The swan is lamenting the fact that it has been shot, and its flesh has been roasted until black. Then the mens' choir joins in, rejoicing in the meal to come. Beautiful music, even if the lyrics are a little on the CREEPY side.
"Who's your Daddy?" is a guy on a testosterone trip. He's (from what he tells us) good looking, and, apparently, there's at least one girl who can't get enough of him. They're going to have sex. Hooray. These lyrics are a little on the misogynistic side.
There you have it. Eight reasons, from a girl who's studied music education, why country music SUCKS.
So, here I am, cranky, and feverish. I'm also listening to classical music. The Flower Duet, from Puccini's Madama Butterfly, to be exact. And I'm desperately hoping that spring comes, soon. An end to cold season, some green things outside, warmth, and sunshine. Who knows? Maybe all that growth will prompt a cultural revolution that involves intelligence, class, and musical complexity. >.<
I'm sorry this was so off track. I just got all wrapped up in how much I HATE bad music.
* "Buckle Bunny" is a slightly derogatory slang term that describes, basically, female rodeo groupies. They don't participate in the rodeo, they just go to oogle and perhaps hook up with any impressive male specimens they may see. Go to a rodeo, and they're the ones wearing thongs and lots of make-up.
* Carmina Burana is a famous piece of classical music, also entitled "The Sacred and the Profane." It's arranged for timpani (kettledrums, to you music n00bz) and piano, OR for full orchestra and full choir, with descants by a soprano, a tenor, and a boy soprano. See the full orchestra version if you want an amazing experience.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
... Wow...
I am of the opinion that this entry needs little or no explanation.
... Wow...
Googling "condom + dress" will get you some crazy $#!7.
Monday, March 3, 2008
"Unique" Point of View NSFW
Before I forget, I want to give an online shout-out to my youngest brother, Liam. He turns a manly 18, today. Last night, Liam was quoted as saying, "Eighteen isn't actually all that great. You're only old enough to enlist, smoke, and buy porn. I don't smoke, and I've already enlisted. As for the porn... well, age never really stopped me." Well said, little bro!
And I know the truth of the porn comment. He was fifteen when I accidentally stumbled upon his porn stash... on the family computer. Being the nourishing, responsible older sister I am, I taught him how to hide it better. >=}
So, Liam... 18 years ago today, our mother was screaming in pain, sweating, and bleeding, to push your wet, wrinkled, and rather cranky ass out of her stretched vagina. Isn't it awesome?
Happy Birthday!
Fair Warning
This is an angry post. You have been warned. =)
So, I work at Wal-Mart. If I ever, EVER see anybody acting like an ass again, I will make them pay. This particular spurt of rage was brought on because somebody spit tobacco on the floor in the middle of my aisle the other night.
Clarification- he leaned over and let loose a gigantic gob of saliva full of carcinogens and nasty leafy bits. And then he kicked a portion of the puddle under the shelves, as though I wouldn't see it.
This man is lucky to still have his testicles. I don't care if his girlfriend was watching, I would have yanked them right off if I hadn't felt like keeping that job.
I have a request to make of everybody who's reading this- when you go to a store or business, please keep in mind that people work there. PEOPLE. People who are stressed, busy, tired, and probably hate their job.
I'm not asking you to be a Boy Scout. You don't have to help little old ladies reach stuff on the top shelf. (That's our job, actually.) I'm just asking that you not do gross stuff, or make massive amounts of extra work for everybody.
For instance- if you decide that you really don't want those pink sheets, or you're done with your shopping basket, the cashier would be happy to take them from you. If you leave them lying around, we still have to pick them up, and we generally feel a bit more ignored and objectified. That is not a good feeling to work with for six or eight hours.
Also, we are not under any duress to say hello, chat, or wish you a good night. We do these things because we actually want to be nice. Do us the favor of at least looking us in the eye, please? Maybe smiling and saying "thank you."
Working at Wal-Mart does not make me stupid. Period. I will verbally eviscerate you if you treat me as such.
Keep in mind that if you pick up something perishable- milk or ice cream, perchance- and you decide you don't want it or don't have the money, WE CANNOT PUT IT BACK. It may have gotten warm or been exposed to pathogens in the store, and we would violate health standards if we restock it. So the next time you pick up those $20 steaks, you'd better have the money. Perfectly good food goes to waste every time you don't.
When you go to the service desk to make a return or exchange, don't yell at me if I tell you no. There is a very good reason for ANY return we refuse, and breaking the rules means losing my job. I'm not saying it's your fault. I'm saying that there are some things not even Wal-Mart will let me do.
We go home sometimes. And, occasionally, we get to eat. If you have to wait two minutes because we don't have enough cashiers, I am sorry. It's not the end of the world.
Lastly, if I catch you stealing, I will NOT pity you. It's against the law. You know that. If you come into my store and expect that the laws to stop working just because it's Wal-Mart, you have another thing coming.
And, so help me, anybody who leans over and spits tobacco on the floor is going to be hung, beheaded, eviscerated, drawn and quartered, cremated, and have their ashes spit on. Finally, the ashes will be dumped into a hole in a fertilizer mound, and I'll dance the macarena not quite on their grave, but close enough.
If you chew, you probably know you're going to die. But if I have to see or clean up your nasty lip pulp, I am going to kill you. I promise to make it very, very special.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Family
Eh... This is not a happy post. You want happy, scroll up or down.
So, I mentioned (very briefly) in my last post that you can love your family out of a sense of obligation, more than any actual tenderness. I realized tonight just how deeply I meant that.
A lot of girls, at some point, will come to serious disagreement with their mother. I've been living in a constant state of disagreement with her crazy ass for years, now. I was talking with my brother tonight, and the conversation turned to her. I moved out almost two years ago... Okay, I got kicked out almost two years ago. He still lives there. It's not a happy arrangement. It wasn't a happy arrangement when I still lived there. Or when my step-dad lived with us, before my mother forced him into a divorce.
My brothers and I have come to the conclusion that she is seriously abusive. And I don't mean that she hurts my feelings every now and then. I mean she has beaten all of us and uttered words that no normal mother would ever consider. For instance-
I've been disowned three times.
She's asked me how many other men were in the room when I had sex with my first boyfriend.
She's accused me of having forgotten about my birth father, since I still consort with my step-father.
She's threatened me with exorcism.
She's spanked me. Now, this may not be too unusual, unless you take into account that I was twenty at the time, and the offense I committed was telling her to "get the fuck out of my room" when she barged in on me changing.
She's grabbed me by the hair and pulled me into a closed-fisted punch.
She's pinned me down on the floor and slapped me back and forth across the face.
Here's what she's done to Liam-
She's punched him in the torso and head.
She's KICKED him.
She's told him that he's going to fail in school, in the Navy, and in life.
These are just the ones he's told me about.
As you can probably tell, this has been going on for years. All of us have, at one point or another, been her physical and/or emotional punching bag. Liam, the youngest, is turning eighteen and graduating. Soon, all of us will have the option of cutting her out of our lives. And I'm really afraid that my brothers are going to do exactly that. Sean, the middle brother, will probably get sick of her trying to force religion on him soon. (He's becoming a stark and cynical atheist, in contrast to my mother's Irish Catholic.) As adults, we don't technically need our mother. So I'm worried that what's left of our family is going to fall apart soon. Something would have to change, and the change would have to be drastic, to stave that off.
The question of the day is- How do you convince somebody who doesn't want help, or maybe even doesn't know what they're doing wrong, to go to therapy?
I know what you're thinking. "How could she NOT know what she's doing? How could she not know that she's wrong?" Right? Eh... My mother wasn't born like this.
My father died of a brain tumor. He was a brilliant surgeon, and he and his wife had just bought a new house for their two children, plus the one in the oven. He was symptomatic for about two years before he finally collapsed at work. Those symptoms included verbal and physical abuse, severe mood swings, and general loss of lucidity, to name a few. He tried to kill my mother more than once. Once they finally realized what was happening, all the other doctors at the hospital started giving her pity handouts. She was in no position to refuse- not with three children. So she swallowed her pride and took what she could until it was finally over.
My mom's been through some bad stuff. I think it's knocked loose a screw or two. The way I see it, she's become a control freak, desperate to keep her world from going to pieces like that ever again. I just don't know how to tell her that it's going to happen again if she doesn't let go!
I think I'm going to ask a doctor. The way things are, just talking to her makes me love her less. I don't want to sever our connection. I don't want the only feelings I have left for her to be obligation or duty. But we are going to need some serious therapy for that to happen. If I have to tranquilize her and drag her to the shrink, so help me, we are going to try to fix this. Maybe we'll make enough progress for her to attend my brother's graduation.
*sigh* I just needed to get that off my chest. Now, for something completely different!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-GbagLB4To
So, I mentioned (very briefly) in my last post that you can love your family out of a sense of obligation, more than any actual tenderness. I realized tonight just how deeply I meant that.
A lot of girls, at some point, will come to serious disagreement with their mother. I've been living in a constant state of disagreement with her crazy ass for years, now. I was talking with my brother tonight, and the conversation turned to her. I moved out almost two years ago... Okay, I got kicked out almost two years ago. He still lives there. It's not a happy arrangement. It wasn't a happy arrangement when I still lived there. Or when my step-dad lived with us, before my mother forced him into a divorce.
My brothers and I have come to the conclusion that she is seriously abusive. And I don't mean that she hurts my feelings every now and then. I mean she has beaten all of us and uttered words that no normal mother would ever consider. For instance-
I've been disowned three times.
She's asked me how many other men were in the room when I had sex with my first boyfriend.
She's accused me of having forgotten about my birth father, since I still consort with my step-father.
She's threatened me with exorcism.
She's spanked me. Now, this may not be too unusual, unless you take into account that I was twenty at the time, and the offense I committed was telling her to "get the fuck out of my room" when she barged in on me changing.
She's grabbed me by the hair and pulled me into a closed-fisted punch.
She's pinned me down on the floor and slapped me back and forth across the face.
Here's what she's done to Liam-
She's punched him in the torso and head.
She's KICKED him.
She's told him that he's going to fail in school, in the Navy, and in life.
These are just the ones he's told me about.
As you can probably tell, this has been going on for years. All of us have, at one point or another, been her physical and/or emotional punching bag. Liam, the youngest, is turning eighteen and graduating. Soon, all of us will have the option of cutting her out of our lives. And I'm really afraid that my brothers are going to do exactly that. Sean, the middle brother, will probably get sick of her trying to force religion on him soon. (He's becoming a stark and cynical atheist, in contrast to my mother's Irish Catholic.) As adults, we don't technically need our mother. So I'm worried that what's left of our family is going to fall apart soon. Something would have to change, and the change would have to be drastic, to stave that off.
The question of the day is- How do you convince somebody who doesn't want help, or maybe even doesn't know what they're doing wrong, to go to therapy?
I know what you're thinking. "How could she NOT know what she's doing? How could she not know that she's wrong?" Right? Eh... My mother wasn't born like this.
My father died of a brain tumor. He was a brilliant surgeon, and he and his wife had just bought a new house for their two children, plus the one in the oven. He was symptomatic for about two years before he finally collapsed at work. Those symptoms included verbal and physical abuse, severe mood swings, and general loss of lucidity, to name a few. He tried to kill my mother more than once. Once they finally realized what was happening, all the other doctors at the hospital started giving her pity handouts. She was in no position to refuse- not with three children. So she swallowed her pride and took what she could until it was finally over.
My mom's been through some bad stuff. I think it's knocked loose a screw or two. The way I see it, she's become a control freak, desperate to keep her world from going to pieces like that ever again. I just don't know how to tell her that it's going to happen again if she doesn't let go!
I think I'm going to ask a doctor. The way things are, just talking to her makes me love her less. I don't want to sever our connection. I don't want the only feelings I have left for her to be obligation or duty. But we are going to need some serious therapy for that to happen. If I have to tranquilize her and drag her to the shrink, so help me, we are going to try to fix this. Maybe we'll make enough progress for her to attend my brother's graduation.
*sigh* I just needed to get that off my chest. Now, for something completely different!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-GbagLB4To
Love
I have mused on the nature of love, today.
It started when teh Doktor and I were at a flea market, looking for bookshelves. (You can never have too many bookshelves!) I started thinking.
"Every item I'm looking at was, at one point, loved. By the person who bought it or received it as a gift, the person who got it to make their friend happy, or maybe by the person who made it. Now that they've sold it, do they still love it? Did they want to part with it? If they didn't, do they want it back? Do they feel guilty? Will anybody else ever love it?"
Being mushy and happily attached at this point in my life, I tend to think of love as long-lasting, even permanent. Maybe there are other kinds of love, though. Perhaps they weaken and die faster than what I'm thinking of.
After all, you can love objects, you can love your partner, and you can love people other than your partner, but you probably don't treat them all the same way. You can love people that you absolutely can't stand. (Translation- family.) You can love people out of a sense of obligation more than a feeling of tenderness. (Family again!)
Maybe love, like everything else in life, cannot be completely understood. It's so difficult to ponder the natures of things like peace and happiness, perhaps love should belong in that same category. All the things that are pretty much impossible to get are all in one pile, that way. Meh. That's where I'm going to put it, anyway.
So, now that my brain hurts what are some things that I love?
Herr Doktor
sushi
my family (For many different reasons.)
writing
the game of Go
anime and manga
video games
music
dance
warm, soft blankets
candy
hula hooping
laughing
feeling all safe and happy
baths
bubbles
bubble baths
purdy flowers
snazzy clothes
looking pretty
*cough* certain... adult activities
hearing "I love you."
saying "I love you."
my locket
my ring
my father
'Kay, I'll stop now. See my point, though? So many different kinds of things, and a different reason for loving all of them. Even a different kind of love, in some cases. How strange that we use the same word for all of it, ne?
6 days until March 5th! Craps! What will I wear?
Monday, February 25, 2008
The Anceint and Delicate Art of Wasting Time
As you can see, I'm putting off emailing my professor, because Chinese hurts my brain.
( ) Smoked a cigarette.
(x) Drank so much you threw up
(x) Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back
( ) Been arrested
( ) Gone on a blind date
(x) Skipped school
( ) Watched someone die
(x) Been to Canada
( ) Been to Mexico
(x) Been to Florida
(x) Been on a plane
(x) Been lost
(x) Been on the opposite side of the country
(x) Gone to Washington DC
(x) Swam in the ocean
(x) Felt like dying
(x) Cried yourself to sleep
(x) Played cops and robbers
(x) Recently colored with crayons
( ) Sang karaoke
(x) Paid for a meal with only coins.
(x) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't?
(x) Made prank phone calls
(x) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
(x) Caught a snowflake on your tongue and made snow angels too
( ) Danced in the rain
( ) Written a letter to Santa Claus
(x) Been kissed under the mistletoe
( ) Watched the sunrise with someone you care about
(x) Blown bubbles
( ) Made a bonfire on the beach?
(x) Crashed a party
( ) Gone ice-skating
( ) Been skinny dipping
1. Any nicknames? Ducky, Kitty, Bunny (Note that, when thrown in a room, they'd probably all try to kill one another!)
2. Mother's name? Gertrude (She hates it. XD )
3. Favorite drink? Orange soda. (Sooo unhealthy.)
5. Body piercing? Ear lobes. Nothing fancy yet. I'm considering a belly piercing, though.
6. How much do you love your job? I hate it with the burning, flaming passion of a thousand suns. I work for Wal-Mart, for crying out loud!
7. Birthplace? Elizabeth, New Jersey
8. Favorite vacation spot? Vacation? What's that?
9. Ever been to Africa? That would require a smallpox vaccination, and I HATE NEEDLES.
10. Ever eaten cookies for dinner? Duh.
11. Ever been on TV? Once. I didn't know until my mom saw me on the news afterward. ^^;
12. Ever steal any traffic signs? The proper term is "requisition." And I was only an accomplice.
13. Ever been in a car accident? Fender-benders and love taps. Nothing scary yet.
14. Drive a 2-door or 4-door vehicle? My four door, gold Focus. I call her "Hand Basket." Get it?
15. Favorite salad dressing? Ranch. (So unhealthy!)
16. Favorite pie? Three-way tie between peach, cherry, and apple.
17. Favorite number? Four is a good number for Scorpio.
18. Favorite movie? I couldn't pick to save my life.
19. Favorite holiday? Halloween. It's been hijacked by popular culture, but at least there aren't many religious overtones.
20. Favorite dessert? Don't make me choose!
21. Favorite food? Sushi. Hands down.
22. Favorite day of the week? Any day I don't have to get stuff done?
23. Favorite brand of body wash? B&BW Japanese Cherry Blossom.
24. Favorite smell? Cannot choose.
26. What do you do to relax? I turn on a video game and pwnz things. Nothing like destruction to channel negative energy!
27. Do you have a message to your friends reading this? Umm... Does anybody know where 25 went?
28. How do you see yourself in 10 years? I can't see stuff that's, like, 3 feet away. Don't be so demanding. =p
29. Furthest Place you will send this message? It's the bloody internet!
30. Who will respond to this the fastest? Ummm...?
31. Who is the least likely to respond? Double Ummm...?
( ) Smoked a cigarette.
(x) Drank so much you threw up
(x) Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back
( ) Been arrested
( ) Gone on a blind date
(x) Skipped school
( ) Watched someone die
(x) Been to Canada
( ) Been to Mexico
(x) Been to Florida
(x) Been on a plane
(x) Been lost
(x) Been on the opposite side of the country
(x) Gone to Washington DC
(x) Swam in the ocean
(x) Felt like dying
(x) Cried yourself to sleep
(x) Played cops and robbers
(x) Recently colored with crayons
( ) Sang karaoke
(x) Paid for a meal with only coins.
(x) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't?
(x) Made prank phone calls
(x) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
(x) Caught a snowflake on your tongue and made snow angels too
( ) Danced in the rain
( ) Written a letter to Santa Claus
(x) Been kissed under the mistletoe
( ) Watched the sunrise with someone you care about
(x) Blown bubbles
( ) Made a bonfire on the beach?
(x) Crashed a party
( ) Gone ice-skating
( ) Been skinny dipping
1. Any nicknames? Ducky, Kitty, Bunny (Note that, when thrown in a room, they'd probably all try to kill one another!)
2. Mother's name? Gertrude (She hates it. XD )
3. Favorite drink? Orange soda. (Sooo unhealthy.)
5. Body piercing? Ear lobes. Nothing fancy yet. I'm considering a belly piercing, though.
6. How much do you love your job? I hate it with the burning, flaming passion of a thousand suns. I work for Wal-Mart, for crying out loud!
7. Birthplace? Elizabeth, New Jersey
8. Favorite vacation spot? Vacation? What's that?
9. Ever been to Africa? That would require a smallpox vaccination, and I HATE NEEDLES.
10. Ever eaten cookies for dinner? Duh.
11. Ever been on TV? Once. I didn't know until my mom saw me on the news afterward. ^^;
12. Ever steal any traffic signs? The proper term is "requisition." And I was only an accomplice.
13. Ever been in a car accident? Fender-benders and love taps. Nothing scary yet.
14. Drive a 2-door or 4-door vehicle? My four door, gold Focus. I call her "Hand Basket." Get it?
15. Favorite salad dressing? Ranch. (So unhealthy!)
16. Favorite pie? Three-way tie between peach, cherry, and apple.
17. Favorite number? Four is a good number for Scorpio.
18. Favorite movie? I couldn't pick to save my life.
19. Favorite holiday? Halloween. It's been hijacked by popular culture, but at least there aren't many religious overtones.
20. Favorite dessert? Don't make me choose!
21. Favorite food? Sushi. Hands down.
22. Favorite day of the week? Any day I don't have to get stuff done?
23. Favorite brand of body wash? B&BW Japanese Cherry Blossom.
24. Favorite smell? Cannot choose.
26. What do you do to relax? I turn on a video game and pwnz things. Nothing like destruction to channel negative energy!
27. Do you have a message to your friends reading this? Umm... Does anybody know where 25 went?
28. How do you see yourself in 10 years? I can't see stuff that's, like, 3 feet away. Don't be so demanding. =p
29. Furthest Place you will send this message? It's the bloody internet!
30. Who will respond to this the fastest? Ummm...?
31. Who is the least likely to respond? Double Ummm...?
The Pointe
So, anybody who's ever been exposed to my forum posts might have noticed that I was bitten by the ballet bug (again) a little over a week ago. This happens periodically, because I've always loved ballet, and I've been wishing that I never quit for years. Alas, I fear I'll never be able to do 32 fouettés en tournant, but I still get that magical feeling of awesome every time I watch somebody else do it. So, I'm starting a wish list. This is my first item.
Gillian Murphy is graceful, precise, and a technical genius. She's actually altered the fouettés en tournant so that she doesn't kick her leg around every time. She'll spin three or four times like that. And I lurve her interpretation of Odile- cold, ruthless, and more than a little sexy.
Seriously, folks, does it get any better than black and evil swan maidens? I don't think so.
The other item on my wish list is not really for me. My beloved Doktor loves Samurai Jack, so I happened to be browsing walmart.com and found this second item. Seasons 1-3 in one shiny box set! For only fifty dollars and some small portion of my soul! You have to admit, Wal-Mart has some good deals. I wanted to get this for Christmas, but... Eh. The spirit was willing, the wallet was weak. Three months later, I'm determined to get teh Doktor a good present if it kills me! It is our six-month anniversary soon, so I must be vigilant! I must give awesome gifts! I must make him cupcakes! After all, what boyfriend does not appreciate baked sweet stuffs in tandem with shiny DVDs?
If anybody else has gift suggestions for teh Doktor, feel free to share! I plan to spoil him!
9 days 'till our six-month anniversary! My countdown to March 5th begins!
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Madlibs!
Mayren linked this site in her blog, and I just had to try it. I was not disappointed. THIS IS THE LAST POST FOR TODAY, I SWEAR! I'm turning on my PS2 as we speak!
My Love
My heart follows your flute voice and leaps like a wombat at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great toucan wing.
I am comforted by your thong that I carry into the twilight of diminutivebeams and hold next to my left nostril.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of bleach.
As my right nostril falls from my banana hammock, it reminds me of your Rubik's cube.
In the quiet, I listen for the last squee of the day.
My heated little toe leaps to my straightjacket. I wait in the moonlight for your secret X-Box controller so that we may gallop as one, little toe to little toe, in search of the magnificient puce and mystical chopstick of love.
3/4 Time
So, Tchaikovsky writes really, REALLY good "Let's be productive!" music. Wanna know what I think? It's all the waltzes. Waltz of the Snowflakes, Waltz of the Flowers, etc. The lively 3/4 time signature just makes me want to dance through the house, waving my sequined wand and watching the animals tidy up. Okay. I exaggerate a little bit. It's really good for getting up and moving, though! Anyone who's not sick to death of the Nutcracker would do well to take note. If you hate the Nutcracker, pick up Swan Lake. If you hate Swan Lake, FUCK YOU! Seriously, grab your shit and leave my blog. Swan Lake is my favorite ballet, fairy tale, and classical music score. You can take your total lack of taste somewhere else...
Maybe that was a little harsh. But, hey, I'm a music snob! I was a music ed major before I got sick of theory, and I've played flute and sung in audition choirs since the age of eleven. Mind you, I don't study music as heavily any more, but I was once VERY good. I know what I'm talking about, yo. I plan to pick those back up when I get the time and patience (music is hard work!), but until then I'll be content with lording over all you musical n00bs.
All hail Tchaikovsky!
Dishes, HERE I COME!
Maybe that was a little harsh. But, hey, I'm a music snob! I was a music ed major before I got sick of theory, and I've played flute and sung in audition choirs since the age of eleven. Mind you, I don't study music as heavily any more, but I was once VERY good. I know what I'm talking about, yo. I plan to pick those back up when I get the time and patience (music is hard work!), but until then I'll be content with lording over all you musical n00bs.
All hail Tchaikovsky!
Dishes, HERE I COME!
ZOMG FIRSTIES!
So, I probably owe you all an explanation as to how this started. It's all Mayren's fault.
I met Mayren through the forums on one of my favorite webcomics. The shameless link plug is here-
http://blackvatican.com
Mayren and I seem to share an awful lot of interests- anime, addicting games, wreaking havoc, and so on. I also love her sense of humor. She is HI-larious. She's also very sweet. I won't lie- it really goes to my head when she says things like "Bunny should write for you guys. She's funny." Or "I wish I could meet you in person, Bunny! We'd be bestest friends." I agree.
Mayren also wrote about me in her blog. She wished that she knew where my blog was, so that we could "see" more of each other, as it were. So I got this wacky idea to actually start a blog. Crazy, no? I felt horrible, not having something I could share with her, when she was sharing with me. Add to that the fact that almost everybody I know has one, and "all the cool kids are doing it." So, here we are. This is your fault, Mayren. I love you for it. At that point which we should meet, I will heap much chocolate and glompage upon your person. Doesn't that sound like fun?
I met Mayren through the forums on one of my favorite webcomics. The shameless link plug is here-
http://blackvatican.com
Mayren and I seem to share an awful lot of interests- anime, addicting games, wreaking havoc, and so on. I also love her sense of humor. She is HI-larious. She's also very sweet. I won't lie- it really goes to my head when she says things like "Bunny should write for you guys. She's funny." Or "I wish I could meet you in person, Bunny! We'd be bestest friends." I agree.
Mayren also wrote about me in her blog. She wished that she knew where my blog was, so that we could "see" more of each other, as it were. So I got this wacky idea to actually start a blog. Crazy, no? I felt horrible, not having something I could share with her, when she was sharing with me. Add to that the fact that almost everybody I know has one, and "all the cool kids are doing it." So, here we are. This is your fault, Mayren. I love you for it. At that point which we should meet, I will heap much chocolate and glompage upon your person. Doesn't that sound like fun?
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