attention defici...hey, what's on tv?

I am freaking out. I have a paper due on Thursday and I cannot get myself even remotely close to academically functional enough to write the cover page much less the whole frikkin thing. I have a total mental block because this teacher not only specified what size font (12 point) but she specified which font (Times New Roman). Now in the scheme of things that really isn't THAT big a deal, but I have always used that as a last minute option in case I can't create enough bullshit to make those final required pages. But not having that option has caused my brain to go right into synapic traffic bumper to bumper...lots of noise and stress but not really moving anywhere. SHIT!
Also, I have an uncanny knack of picking out the WORST movies ever at the rental store. Kernels of wisdom, don't watch "Confessions of a teenage drama queen," mental suicide wouldn't stop the pain of wasting some of your life's precious time (don't ask me why I wanted to watch that movie, I thought bitchy high school saline-bags would be funny) and even though something like "Winning horror shorts from Fangoria magazine" sounds like it would be good...you can pretty much assume that when zombies break out into song and dance ala "Rocky Horror Picture Show"....you have been duped.

thin red line

So the saying goes...its a thin line between love and hate. And I truly believe this to be 150% true. When I look at Will's and my relationship, or serious lack thereof, I think "damn how did it go so wrong so quick?" I am either a terrible judge of character to have actually thought that he was the guy I might be able to do the (insert adverb) ever after thing with...or people will mislead you a million different ways to make you think that they are one person only to reveal later that they are not that person at all, but a twisted version of it instead. Then I wonder why I sit here negotiating with myself about why I shouldn't just cut this whole marriage thing loose...money blah blah blah, being lonely blah blah blah (which shouldn't matter anyway because I have been lonely for the last three years), being alone blah blah blah, putting certain needs before others blah blah blah, some nostalgic need to hold on blah blah blah, pressure to not be a failure blah blah blah. I think of some of my friends who just cut the fucking cord and they didn't bleed to death, and I envy them for having the strength and will to do that. Maybe I am the one making this way too complicated, and it is not a matter of jumping head first into a dark lake...because I will certainly never be able to jump head first when I am constantly looking back.

faerie pond

Found this, it is pretty damn funny. See, there is always a price to pay for being sweet and nice....that's why I don't do EITHER.
Okay, now I have actually dreamed of owning something this spectacular, the angry bitch in me actually wishes I could find something like this (maybe at Target, cause I don't like to spend a lot of money on accessories), but seriously where would I find shoes to match?
Okay, after perusing the entire site, I laughed until I weezed and my eyes watered. So if you have a few minutes to spare and need to laugh, check this out and make sure you look at the magnified picture when that option is available.

elm street

I had a terrible nightmare last night. It started out innocuously enough, I was watching an episode of Saturday Night Live and Adam Sandler, David Spade, and Nate from Six Feet Under were in bed together doing a skit. Then presto-chango, I was in bed with Nate from Six Feet Under and we were cuddling (because I loves to cuddle, be it man woman or dog). So in my dream, I knew I was dreaming because he said he had to get up to get a glass of water and I told him not too because he wouldn't be back. So he was holding my hands, and I actually could physically FEEL my hands being held. But then all of the sudden, he was holding my hands too tight and it was getting really uncomfortable. So I looked up at him, and it wasn't Nate anymore, it was this person/thing looking at me with shiny black eyes (kind of like the people from 28 Days Later after the infection) and I was REALLY frightened. So I tried to scream and for some reason I started screaming for my brother (his name is Nathan, probably not a coincidence that I was dreaming about Nate and calling out to Nathan). But I COULDN'T scream, it was just this hoarse whisper that was coming out of my mouth even though I was trying with all my might to scream really really loud. All the while this person/thing started squeezing my hands and pulling me closer to him while I tried vainly to scream. I woke myself up and when I woke up I was screaming, REALLY REALLY loud, and my heart was beating loud and fast and I was sweating. Fuck, I don't know where that came from. Maybe because we are doing the rape section in my Gender and the Law class, or maybe because I ate too much tunafish for dinner. But jesus it was really terrible.

no soup for you

So my tummy hurts again. I ate Quizno's last night (because I lack any domestic skills whatsoever, so my food groups only include what is premade and microwavable or what can be bought made to order). The thing is, I went there because I remember it being so good. I used to go there all the time in Colorado, and in Hawaii me and Cindy used to walk there during lunch. And it was at least a three-four mile walk during the hottest part of the day, so it must have been worth it. But that was not my experience last night. The turkey meat (and let's just say that I'm not really one hundred percent about the validity of calling it turkey or meat) was SLIMY like somebody dipped it in jello made with swamp water or something. And the guacamole tasted like ass...well I haven't ever actually tasted ass, but sometimes the smell of ass leaves a bad taste in your mouth so I'm guessing that's what it tastes like. Now, I have never really eaten guacamole, because any food that resembles baby diarrhea is just plain wrong, but I have totally been loving those Guacamole Doritos...so I thought what the hell, I would try something new. So, now I think I will have to try some "good" guacamole because I can't live the rest of my life thinking that Quizno's guacamole is what ALL guacamole tastes like (I really like the word guacamole...I'm going to try and insert it into every conversation I have today). And I noticed that everybody that worked there had TERRIBLE acne, huge red full pustules of hell. They were definitely the poster-children for people in dire need of Proactiv. It turned me off to any of the cream based soups, that's for sure.

regret

I was watching this thing about Olympic torchbearers and it made me think back to 1996 when I was driving from Colorado Springs to DC during the summer. I was with this guy and while driving through West Virginia, we saw an Olympic torchbearer carrying the torch on the way to the Atlanta games. Well this guy, I think that he was probably my one big love (if that really exists). I spend a lot of time wondering what could have happened if it worked out between he and I. Would I be a different person than the person I am now? Would I spend less time trying to eat and shop and bitch, in a shallow effort to fill this emptiness I carry around like the crap homeless people lug around in their shopping carts? Would I have made less mistakes in my life? Would things have been different??? All I know is, unlike milk, there is no expiration date on regret.

cubicles

I work in a hospital, in the laboratory to be exact. I work with a lot of middle-aged people and have a hard time relating with any of them. A lot of times I go to lunch (we go in groups to the cafeteria) and just sit there for thirty-forty minutes staring at people and listening to them spew inane bullshit. But yesterday I hit the lunch-torture super-jackpot. For some reason this lady Anja always ends up sitting right across from me, which I have to say I REALLY try to avoid because she is one of a few people that insist on blowing their snotty noses right at the table, even if people are still eating...just thinking about runny snot during a meal makes me want to retch all over my cafeteria tray, so to actually have to hear it, with full throatal accompaniment sometimes, just about puts me over the edge. So towards the end of her meal, which incidentally I have to say looked pretty good...a delicious looking green and crisp salad with a huge ripe tomato and big creamy chunks of feta cheese doused liberally with a lovely raspberry vinegarette...she did her requisite full-trombone nose-blowing concerto. BUT, when I was looking away she started to PICK HER NOSE TOO!!! For the love of god, she was picking her nose. I kind of saw it out of the corner of my eye and then I looked right at her. She was like a deer caught in the headlights, but instead of a cute bambi looking at me with big glassy black eyes...there was this older woman looking at me, wide-eyed, with her thumb stuck up her nostril (YES HER THUMB, not a pinky or an index finger as is the usual custom of nasal gold-miners....she was using her opposable digit for god's sake). I have to say that I looked away first, and then she sheepishly put her thumb away and grabbed a napkin to finish whatever job she was trying to accomplish. At the time I was pretty damn disgusted, but now I have to laugh. It certainly made the thirty minutes go by a lot faster than having to listen to some shite conversation about how "The Newlyweds" made the city of Louisville look really nice in Wednesday's episode about the Kentucky Derby.

i wish i was a little bit taller, i wish i was a baller

So in one of my classes we have a high-profile college basketball player. Well actually there are two ball-players, but I only recognize one. So what is it about this guy that bothers me? Well, he and his teammate only show up about half the time, which I guess isn't that big a deal because attendance is not mandatory. But this high profile guy, shows up to class and doesn't EVER pay attention. He is either playing with his Gameboy or Sidekick or something, and this mo-fo doesn't even have a book. Now that just totally chaps my hide. Because here this dude is coming to class whenever the hell he feels like, doesn't pay attention, has never written a single note, and doesn't even have the required reading material. And all this time he is getting free tuition, free books and supplies, free room and board, an $800.00 month stipend (which from what I understand is relatively high), plus the Athletic Center pretty much makes failing a class impossible since they get "extra" help like test study guides that all but fill out the tests before they get to class; he probably also gets free lap-dances at the Thoroughbred, free date-rapes (not that I'm suggesting he does this, but athletes are more likely to do this and never get punished than any other type of student...except for maybe some spoiled ass rich kid), a nice-ass car (under the table of course), and frankly he will probably go pro so the degree (if he stays long enough) is probably as important as toilet paper. Now I don't know why this bugs me so much. Maybe because my monthly stipend from the GI Bill, though slightly higher than the sports stipend, cost me three years of my youth and endless hours of enduring total bullshit. Plus, my scholarship only covers my tuition, not all the incidentals, and I have to maintain at least a 3.0. Now I know that sports is supposed to bring in revenue, bring prestige, bring in more students...blah blah blah. But how is this making my life easier??? And of course I'm jealous, I want a free ride too. GRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

will work on movie for food

There was one of the carnie movie production people sleeping in our Humanities Building. She was full on snoring away...I managed to walk in, stare at her for a little while, leave, then come back and take her picture on my cell-phone, all without her even waking the slightest bit.
I also found out what the movie was exactly. Apparently it is some indie production called "Sweet William." As far as I can tell it doesn't star anybody famous, but a friend of mine said Frank Langella was the director. At any rate, she had a run-in with him yesterday. They were walking past one another and he knocked into her and practically busted her boob with his elbow. THEN, that fucker didn't even say "excuse me," so Kelly said to him "UMMM, EXCUSE YOU" and he didn't even turn around and acknowledge her. Now I know in the past, he played a kick-ass version of Dracula...but let's face it the last thing I remember him being in was Eddie, so he has no right to be a total cock.

movie magic

So they are filming a movie on our campus. I think the popular consensus it that it is a movie called Elizabethtown starring Orlando Bloom (so fucking hot in a dirty gypsy kind of way that it makes me want to take up stalking as my full time occupation) and Kirsten Dunst. There were various false sightings of celebrities (somebody swore they saw Kirsten Dunst, but it was just some random blonde chick sitting in a director's chair), and today I did notice some seriously unusual Hollywood-type shit. They were filming in our library, quad area and there were tons of people hanging about. First, all the cast and crew look and dress like carnies. Now I'm not sure what they pay these people to be prop masters and light technicians and the like, but frankly it can't be much because I've seen homeless people with a better flair for fashion than some of these mo-fos. Second, they clearly are hanging on to some 1960s love-in thing because I went to get a water in the library, and there were all these people sitting in a circle, gaping at some guy playing really bad acoustic guitar. Third, all of the women extras had HUGE TITS!!! There were tons of really skinny women with big-ass boobies (and if you know me, you know it ain't the jealousy talking cause I got no issues with boob size)...there were more D-cups floating around than Hooters on a Friday night. So my classmate and I starting trying to figure out what exactly they were filming, and here is what we (well actually me, she just nodded mostly)thought:
A. They are filming a television pilot about strippers who decide to go back to college. Basically the premise is that the six-foot law recently established in Jefferson County really affected their abilities to earn a decent wage so they decide to go to school to either become pediatricians or to learn enough about their political rights so they can fight the man to repeal lap-dance laws. Much hilarity will ensue when at various points in the show the girls start getting naked for no reason whatsoever.
B. They are clearly filming the University of Louisville version of "Girls Gone Wild." Since this is Kentucky it will have a really down home feel, replete with fried chicken grease rub-downs and constant sexual references to biscuits and gravy.
C. They are filming a national commercial about the University of Louisville to gain more student interest. To gain that interest, particularly for male matriculators, they are showcasing the considerable assets of the student body. And let me make this clear...they were gravity-defying considerable assets.
I kind of like version B. Maybe Snoop Dog will make an appearance.

thin is in

So yesterday I talked to my dad and he said his doctor put him on the South Beach Diet. For those of you out of the loop, it is pretty much the Atkins' Diet with healthier choices. Dad has lost 11 pounds so far and I'm really happy to hear that because he needs to shed some pounds, his health ain't so great. But then I started thinking about all the people I know on the South Beach diet (several of whom need a diet like I need a life-time supply of McDonalds), and then I started thinking about how I know even MORE people than that on the Atkins' diet...which if you ask me (which of course you would because I am all-knowing) is a bullshit diet where you eat copious, revolting amounts of meat and dairy while avoiding UNWISE choices like fruit and 7-grain bread. So I thought that there are probably better and quicker ways of losing weight and being unhealthy:
1) INTESTINAL PARASITES-during Louis XIV's reign, women would swallow sugar cubes with tape-worm eggs inside to maintain their teeny waists in order to enjoy court at the utterly fabulous Versailles. Other than the unpleasant side-effect of wriggling worms crawling out of your asshole and mouth while you sleep, and long, wormy things sucking the nutrition out of your very body leaving you with scurvy and osteoporosis...it is a relatively cheap and easy way to shed pounds.
2) IMPRISONMENT-the best form would be being forced into a well by some homicidal maniac who wants to turn your skin into a transvestite overcoat ala Silence of the Lambs. I myself never have to worry about this because my tats prohibit any real use of my skin. This is probably not the best way because you would have to rely on somebody else of sufficient craziness to accomplish your goal.
3) FRACTURING YOUR JAW-once fractured, preferably by an auto-accident so that your insurance will pay for it and then you can sue the hell out of who hit you, your jaw will be wired shut. While wired you can only drink shit like Ensure, Slim Fast, and the like. While suffering from serious pain and losing nutrients faster than your bowel movements after drinking water in Tijuana, you can lose tons of weight and then have the pleasure of the uber-painful experience of having long wires removed from your face (credit to my friend Angela who told me the excruciating pain of a fractured jaw and wire removal).
4) THE BIG "C"-one of the top five signs of cancer is rapid weight loss. Along with all your fat cells, you have the added bonus of losing your hair, energy, sexual function, and quite possibly your life.
Now I don't say this to diminish the harm of any of the above, I just say it to express my feelings of...What the Fuck? Why do we spend so much time and energy worrying about how fat our asses are? And don't get me wrong, I'm TOTALLY guilty of this myself, having done unhealthy things to my body in pursuit of a socially approved body and having explored the option of weight-loss via surgery. I mean if you are seriously unhealthy then definitely try and lose weight...but whatever happened to small portions and excercise? Can we only think in terms of "drop pounds now, find out how?"

the seven deadlies

Okay, so last night I had a really good dream. I won't go into all of the details, but I will say that it involved Justin Theroux. Who, you ask, is Justin Theroux? Well...since I still can't figure out how to have pictures hosted onto this blog, you will have to go here. He is definitely in the same arena (though not the same level) as Johnny Depp, hot as hell and cool as fuck too. So, I think the first time I saw this guy was Mulholland Drive, the latest David Lynch creation, and I remember thinking that this guy was so Campbell's soup (mmm.mmm.good). Then I don't remember seeing him again until Charlie's Angels 2, which though not that great a flick showcased Justin Theroux's hot ass body so it gets 4 stars (out of five because no amount of pecs and abs can remove the permanent brain damage of the rest of movie). But holy steaming panties Batman, this guy shows up in Six Feet Under...by far and away one of the coolest shows on television. And not only does he play a pretty cool character who plays the French horn (or some kind of similar instrument) and recommends Korean restaurants, BUT the last two shows he has some serious screen-time in which he is tied to a bed. I don't know what it is...but a recipe of hot guys with hot bodies with a little S&M thrown in...Sunday nights just might be my new favorite night of the week.

em-effin nature

Okay, so we had these HUGE wind storms two days ago. Our power was out for over 24 hours and our internet was down for days. I thought for sure it was a tornado. That is some seriouslly scary shit...if I knew how to post pics I would show the tree that went down in our backyard. All I can say is thank god we rent because it would really suck to have to pay to have the tree removed and the gutter repaired. Maybe this is Mother-nature's way of telling me to stop talking shit about Klantucky...after all I truly believe that I am important enough for Mother-nature to take the time to open a can of windy whoop-ass on me.
On a side note, every day I am alive ,I realize that there are some seriously fucking stupid people in this world. Today in a class we talked about intersexuality/hermaphrodites, and it became clear that many people actually think that intersexed people have two completely formed sets of genitals. And I'm sure they think of it in porn-star terms, so intersexed people are walking around with a huge Dirk Diggler penis with a full set of low-hanging balls to go along with their full-bush vagina. So am I just overly-informed and know what the genitals of intersexed people are??? Or maybe I am seriously sick and invest way too much time learning about the genitals of various groups. Either way I somehow always end up back at my initial conclusion...people are stupid.

ruminations

If a person doesn't quite meet your expectations...they "LET YOU DOWN." So...if a person does exactly what you expected, do they then "LET YOU UP"?

clarity

Okay, I thought maybe I should expound on some of the information in my profile.
First, it's not that I DON'T have any interests, it's just that they really aren't that interesting. I don't have any one passion or great hobby like scaling the faces of tall buildings and then jumping off of them while praying to the god of my choosing that my parachute wasn't rigged by some sixteen year old kid experimenting with meth for the first time...I just do the normal, boring, suburban bullshit that most pseudo-normal, boring, suburban people do like watching movies and reading books and the occasional shopping rampage. Plus, you add into the mix that I live in the bible belt and (I'm fairly certain) a Republican stronghold, AND the fact that this city is having a serious identity crisis, not being able to figure out if it wants to evolve into an urban metro-sexually approved metropolis or stay with its old-towne Kuntry roots...well excitement is not the word du-jour (although it does boast the biggest fireworks display in the whole U-S-of-A during the Kentucky Derby).
Okay, what exactly does a Freudian obsession with Johnny Depp mean? Well, my brother has this uncanny resemblance to Johnny Depp. And NO I am not attracted to my brother, I didn't have twisted fantasies of running off to the Ozark mountains to have lobster-clawed babies...but the fact remains that my bro does looketh like the man I would commit multiple felonies for. I'm sure in psychology/psychiatry that means something important.
I like foreign pop because...well frankly the pink-lace girlie side of me likes to listen to insipid music. But the mentally aware part of me can't stand to listen to the vapid words IN pop music. ERGO, my fascination with foreign pop. It still has the happy-sappy pop music that the twelve year old girl in me loves, but I can't understand shit so it can't piss me off. Pretty much the other music I like is stuff my friend Shane tells me about. I rely on him for all things cool because he can pick a piece of cool out of a big pile of shit...its his gift I think.
I have to say that "Like the Red Panda" is probably my more favorite read recently. Basically it is a journal of a high school girl, who seemingly has everything going for her, who decides that it (it being life) is all fucking bullshit and decides to off herself. So she writes this journal about why she does it. Its a pretty awesome book. I cried for thirty minutes after I finished reading it and then read it again within a few days.
Okay, I guess that pretty much covers it for now.

it's always painful the first time

Okay, so I finally decided to try out this blog thing. Even if the only hits I get are from me checking to see if I get any hits, at least I'll have somewhere to vent my bottomless pit of ANGER!!!