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?

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?

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."

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.

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.

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.

... Wow...

I am of the opinion that this entry needs little or no explanation.

... Wow...

Googling "condom + dress" will get you some crazy $#!7.

"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.