i really have to change my yahoo profile...

Otherwise I will continue to have conversations like this (just a quick fyi, I only respond in this manner because it's funny not because I'm actually interested)

him: hello Maam. i was curious to know if you were looking for a slave to pleasure, please and amuse you? my approach is blunt but sincere. i am a submissive male and i am looking for an open minded woman who wishes to use me as she sees fit. i am not looking for cyber or a quickie either Maam
me: i need somebody to mow my lawn
him: check the yellow pages maam
me: well i guess you weren't being sincere when you said i could use you as i saw fit.
him: was very sincere but not just looking to be a yardboy maam
me: well then what kind of boy are you looking to be? a kitchen boy? a laundry boy?
him: sex toy slut maam
me: like a vibrator?
him: one use for me. yes maam
me: do you have a big penis?
him: no maam. only 7 inches.
me: how big around?
him: dont know maam. a good handful.
me: what do you look like? are you fat?
him: i can show you a picture maam. i can stand to lose a few punds but i am not fat.
and then he kept trying to send me a picture but that didn't work. Too bad, it probably would have gotten a lot funnier after that.

PS-M., see this is why I can't settle for the meatman! I would have to give up ALL OF THIS!!! It's just not fair to ask a person to do that is it?

kindness of strangers

Attention: To whomever keeps googling the phrases low hanging balls, big hanging balls, big hairy balls, and multiple other phrases that produce uncomfortable mental images...yeah I get it, you really seem to like balls. And because I am a thoughtful and caring person who loves nothing more than to give, here is your picture of low hanging balls. You can thank me by mailing me a fruit basket but if you don't mind, leave out the nuts...you've already done enough to associate my blog with testicles. I thank you.

friendly fire

It's true, I'm not a very nice person. I don't smile recklessly, I reserve them for special occassions like the fine china you only use for Christmas dinners. I don't do small talk, I think it is absolutely painful to sit around with people you don't know very well and have conversations about the weather and mulch, frankly if given the choice I might opt to eat my own vomit. Plus I have the unusual, uncanny ability to sabotage most of my existing relationships with my unrealistic expectations of people. And of course my unrelenting standards of others prevents the development of new relationships even though I certainly recognize that I'm no prize. So what does it all mean? I'm really fucking lonely right now. I think I need a hug.

first's the worst, second's the best, third's the fairy princess

Do you remember that book All I really need to know I learned in kindergarten? While I agree that the things we learn as children are the most important things we'll ever learn, this guy just has far too positive a spin on things for me. Here's what I think we all learned in kindergarten:
o Only share when people are looking so they think you're nice. Otherwise keep what's yours...selfishness has its own rewards.
o Choose friends and sides all the time, always make sure somebody feels left out. That feeling you get when you make other kids cry...it's called power, some day having this power will pay off.
o Don't hit people. There are MUCH better ways to hurt somebody...tell them you hate them and then tell everybody else they still pee in the bed. Emotional pain always hurts more than physical pain.
o Wash your hands before you eat...but not necessarily after you sneeze. Communicable diseases help boost your immune system. And hand-washing after booger picking? Don't even worry about that...just wipe it under your chair when nobody is looking.
o Don't take things that aren't yours, let the teachers take it away and then cry until they give it to you. Manipulation...almost as good as power.
o Boys have cooties.
o Even though you know you're a pretty girl...it's always a good idea to wear ribbons and curls because nothing is more satisfying then everybody telling you that you're pretty.
o Pick a new best friend everyday. To make sure all the kids want to be your best friend, always have an extra cupcake.
o Playing house is fun until people stop playing the way you think they should/the right way. Instead of compromising, kick them all out of your house. Compromise is for sissies.
o Never be the last kid chosen for anything. You may never be the best, but always make sure you're at least a little bit better than the worst kids.
*I'm sure this makes no sense, I'm really tired. I need a nappy.

sunuvah...

Shit Shit Shit! First of all, let me say that I loves me some ebay and I will do just about anything to save a buck or two. So I bought printer ink off of ebay recently because I use so much of it and twenty bucks for a teeny-tiny cartridge just seemed like way too much. Low and behold the stupid cartridges don't work...well no, they work but not very well. And now I have to turn in a shitty-looking assignment to a professor who already busts my balls (well proverbial balls anyway) about every little thing. Fuckity fucking fuck. And I don't have enough time to find my stupid memory stick, figure out how to use it, drive to school while having to stop and get gas because I was too lazy to fill up yesterday, run to the library or copy center, and then print the damn thing. And yeah you're probably right, I'm being way too dramatic about all of this.

post script

While talking to Katie about the stick-it game, we decided that no island adventure/catastophic event would be complete without the complete and unabridged set of Choose Your Own Adventure books. Of course all 150+ books would count as only one choice, because it's my sticky and I said so and it would inevitably help you with your survival skills.

eureka

Last night in the midst of my R.E.M. I had an epiphany. I remember waking up thinking..."Oh my god, THAT'S IT!!!" But I can't remember what jumble of hazy, dream induced thoughts brought about the revelation. Maybe it was the meaning of life, the steps to a successful future, the ultimate weapon to smite the people I find annoying like those with an overreaching sense of their own self-importance and superiority (unlike me who has the right amount...just a pinch, not quite half a teaspoon), or maybe it was just a little piece of subconscious-to-conscious girl-talk like, "stop eating raw onions at dinner, your morning-breath is unbearable, thank god you're single." I just don't know. I thought about keeping pad and pen near my bed so I could wake up and scribble down my cerebral noctural emissions, but I'm too lazy for that...I can barely get up the energy to make a grocery list half of the time, yes grocery lists are so suburban housewife but some habits are hard to shake. My life's worth of questions could verily be answered while I'm shrouded in my overly soft mink blanket choking on my own post-nasal drip, but I guess I'll never know.
PS-don't worry, mink is just an adjective...I only commit animal murder for sustenance and shoe-wearing.

five-oh

I haven't had that many run-ins with the police. I've never been arrested, I've never really even gotten in any trouble with the law other than traffic violations. So considering that I give the impression of being a law-abiding, respectable citizen...why do cops always have to act like total dicks when I am in a situation that requires the presence of a police officer? Is it because I don't do the whole damsel-in-distress, where-are-my-smelling-salts thing? Is it because I ask questions rather than just stand there and be appreciative because they've graced me with their time? My mom would say it's because I'm lippy, actually she would say "noh...doh...doh...mah-dee man-oh." But that shouldn't matter should it, because the police are there to do a job and helping me is part of their job...even if they don't particularly like me or what I stand for. How can you have faith in a person to help you when they've actively avoided helping you in the few instances that you've needed it? How can you put your faith in a person who lacks any visible signs of compassion and obviously missed the day they taught tact? Somebody who is more concerned with projecting an image of the tough-guy ball-buster than trying to find out negligible things like oh say truth and facts? Am I just having run-ins with the wrong officers?

sticky fingers

Yay for me...I got a shout-out from a person with a salon.com blog, which means they are well-read and not a cheap-ass like me and willing to pay for a salon.com subscription rather than sit through a daily barage of advertisements. So Andrew sent me a meme and I'm actually a little embarassed to answer it because then people will KNOW that I'm a complete dunce rather than merely suspecting it. Ahhh well, since I've always felt the need to make myself look ridiculous...here goes.

Stick It Game

You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451; which book do you want to be?
From the first question I'm forced to bare my soul with one magnificently horrifying admission... I've never read Fahrenheit 451. BUT I HAVE AN EXCUSE, I SWEAR! I think I might have seen parts of the movie though...wow, I'm so ashamed.

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
I'm not completely sure what "crush" really means here. Did I find myself attracted to a character? Sure...I think it would be almost impossible to connect with a book and not find some measure of attraction to the characters in it.

The last book you bought was:
I like to cruise the clearance rack at Borders which means you don't really get top quality selections (I know...I'm just making excuses now), so the last book I bought but haven't read is The Autograph Man by Zadie Smith.

The last book you read:
The last book I read in its entirety was Choke by Chuck Palahniuk. It was hilarious but very similar to Fight Club, so I'm guessing that all of Palhniuk's books touch on the same themes.

What are you currently reading?
Constitutional Law for a Changing America: Rights, Liberties, and Justice. Clearly a textbook, I haven't read a real honest to goodness book in a long long time.

Five books you would take to a desert island:
Wow, this is a tough one. I'm assuming this question means that you're chances of being rescued are pretty small so you better choose books that you wouldn't mind reading over and over again.

For practicality's sake I would have to choose, Living Off the Land: Tracking, Building Traps, Shelters, Toolmaking, Finding Water and Food because otherwise I would spend my days questioning why I was on the last scrap of land that didn't have a Starbucks within walking distance.
The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King, I can't really say why but I really like this book.
She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb because I read this book and I find the similarities between the main character and myself frightening.
The Color Purple by Alice Walker.
Any of The Far Side collections. No matter how many times I see those cartoons, I always laugh and I suspect that you would need the laughs. Of course when you introduce the collection to your volleyball-shaped friend, it'll be like discovering the humor for the first time and you can sit back and giggle under your breath while Wilson looks at them. Good times...good times.

new orleans sights

From left to right, top to bottom
o Parade through Bourbon street
o Lots of feral cats in New Orleans, but look how civilized they are
o Cops in N.O. get Vespas. How awesome is that?
o Strolling through the French Quarter
o Cathedral in Jackson Square
o The Natchez steamboat
o Inside the cathedral
o Supposedly the oldest pub in the French Quarter
o Lafayette Cemetery #1
o Local flower...the something iris
o Former residence of Anne Rice
o Bourbon Street
o Bourbon Street balcony
o Jackson Square
o The world reknowned Pat something or other bar
o Pigeons cashing in on leftover beignets at Cafe du Monde

singularly random

I would have to say that one was my magic number in N'awlins. Everything pretty much happened just once.
o Some random drunk man at a bar handed me a dollar bill. First he asked me if I wanted the dollar and I was definitely suspect..."You're giving me a dollar just to give me one?" yes. "I don't have to do anything for it?" yes. So I reached for the dollar like a dog reaches for a treat from a stranger. I don't even remember if I said thanks because it was just so WEIRD. Drunk people are awesomely random.
o I suffered a random head injury because one of the thousands of suits in the city (due to a cell-phone industry conference) threw a set of beads off of a balcony and they hit me in the head. At the VERY moment the plastic weapons of mass inebriation were diving towards the pepetual target that is my head, I was telling Katie..."Knowing my luck, I'll get beaned in the head with...OWWWWWWW"
o I met some guy who was from San Bernadino (although that in itself isn't amazing since S.B. is huge) but it's still pretty random considering that Katie and I were drunkenly giving compliments to people who walked past us and he was the first person to stop and chat.
o Got a psychic tea-leaf reading. It was everything I expected, just a bunch of generalizations to make a person feel good about their life...I didn't fall for it, optimism is for suckers. Let's see in a year I will meet the most amazing person, my twin flame and I will have the ability to make lots of money since I'm heading into a new four-year cycle of life. Katie had a cooler experience. We have it all on tape.
o At some random half-empty bar, we started talking to a pretty hot guy with a very large suitcase. Turns out he's a magician and he talks to us for a bit and then does a magic trick for us involving two rubberbands. Mind over matter.
o Tried almost every "famous" N'awlins food tradition once...gumbo, red beans & rice, jambalaya, po-boy, muffaletta, etc. Except for the beignets...we had those twice...they were yummy-yummy fried death covered in powdered sugar.
o Once, just once...the number of times I got so drunk that I vomited up everything from my tongue to my rectum. It was the day we left, lesson learned....no binge drinking the night before you head out on an eleven hour drive.
o Got a discount at this awesome little shop Roadkill, from one sexy biker dude. How did I get the discount? By speaking Chinese...who knew that the Zhong-wen would come in handy?
o And so on and so on. N'awlins is a crazy city.
PS-Yes, I saw boobs. Yes, I have beads. NO, I did not "earn" them.

dear blog. stop.

Just arrived home STOP Have so much to tell STOP But first must unpack and get much needed rest and shower STOP Will talk again soon STOP
LisaM.

do or die

I just woke up, not less than twenty or so minutes ago. I didn't go to work which was probably a very bad thing since we had our big-time inspection today. I also didn't go to school. I'm sure most of you are cursing my slothful ways but dammit I'm sick. At least I think I am, why else would my body be shutting itself down and going into hibernation mode, spring is here after all. Ahhhh, but therein lies the problem...spring means allergies and being as how we live in the armpit of the Ohio valley, where allergens are more plentiful than bad drivers...well my allergies have made me sick. My head feels like somebody snuck in at night and inserted two lead weights right in my sinuses. My ears itch like crazy, an itch no amount of Q-tips shoved dangerously into my ear canal can fix. Post-nasal drip is making my throat hurt, in fact I believe that my throat is plotting my demise... probably a scheme hatched up with my liver, who's still mighty angry with me because of my overindulgence in the drink. See late at night while I'm sleeping, my sinuses (who are also in on the act) start producing gobs of snot that goes down my throat and pools right by my airway. So I wake up coughing and sputtering, choking on my body's reaction to the hopefullness of spring. Down with spring, fall forever.

ready, steady, go

oClean house so housesitter doesn't find pizza boxes under the bed, wads of tissue stuffed in the couch, and...ahem...inappropriate videos laying around? CHECK
o Guilt trip father into giving spending cash? CHECK
o Pack totally age inappropriate outfits with lots of pink and Sanrio? CHECK
o Pack make-up worthy of any of the gals from Priscilla Queen of the Desert to include ridiculously and dangerlously long fake eyelashes? CHECK
o Bathe dog so dogsitter doesn't think I'm a terrible doggie-mommy and not give Iniki gobs of love and attention as punishment? CHECK
o Slough and shave off entire winter's worth of nasty dead skin so feet can look passibly sandal worthy? CHECK
o Buy Chaser tablets to ensure there are no over-the-top public displays of drunkeness? CHECK
o Say aloha to blog, see you in a week, provided I don't end up in the slammer or end up a super-sexy-sidekick/slave to a voodoo priest like in the best Bond flick EVER, Live and Let Die? CHECK
o Toodles people...don't miss me too much...no actually miss me a lot, it bolsters my inflated sense of ego.

clean and close

o For some reason I felt compelled to trim my arm hairs today, well not for JUST some reason but because of the influence of peer pressure. So I charged up my electric shaver thingie and you know what I discovered? You can hurt yourself just as easily with an electric shaver as you can with a razor. God I'm a dumbass.
o I did okay on my midterm yesterday. At least I thought I did okay. Who knows how he'll actually grade it.
o I cut my hair fairly short. I like it except I wake up with some seriously nasty bedhead now. I scared myself this morning.
o I also woke up this morning with the zit from HELL. Any minute I expect it to pop open and spiders come crawling out like in Serpent and the Rainbow.
o Two more days until I'm in New Orleans. Heeheeheee, I'm so excited.

wrap up

o I thought higher education was supposed to be about critical thinking, so why the hell am I doing rote memorization. If professors want somebody to spew their own thoughts right back at them, buy a fucking parrot.
o Just finished watching America's Next Top Model (cause Katie is a bad influence). What kind of message is this show giving girls? Don't be fat (and by fat I mean 138 pounds on a 5'10" body) cause that makes you NOT HOT...but you can act like a total asswipe, give everybody attitude and because you supposedly look FIERCE then the world will forgive your every trespass. That's right, fuck being a good person...just look good for the camera...consider that lifetime supply of ex-lax and ipecac an investment in your future.
o I pay how many thousands of dollars per semester? And my tuition keeps going up and up and up so that the athletic department gets enough money to pay seven figure salaries to coaches who'll sell their souls to every local business that'll pay them a few bucks. So when you mail me my final "How'd we do?" survey like the one's you find next to the syrup station at iHop...would it be too much trouble to include a fucking postage paid envelope?
o I have to stop measuring myself against all of the other hapa people out there. It's demoralizing.

sally's kids

I need to find a charitable organization willing to offset the high cost of inebriation by giving me money for my vacation. Either than or I am going to have to start selling my body and/or its various organs. Generally I don't care very much about money, as long as the basics are covered... you know designer clothes, bottled French water, fancy restaraunts, plastic surgery, status car, houseboy...then I'm fine. But since lately I seem to have less and less of the cashola, it's importance has been growing. My poor sad little checking account...once so voluptuous and Rubenesque, now suffering from anorexia and a really bad case of the shits...I weep for it. Of course I could cut back on my expenditures but honestly I would give up food and quite possibly electricity before I give up HBO, Showtime, or cable internet, especially since Deadwood and The L Word just started, for I love any shows that liberally sprinkle the words cocksucker and twat throughout. Maybe I should start one of those websites where I beg for money because I would rather not reap the consequences of my own stupidity and irresponsbility when I can mooch off the kindness of morons...ooops, I meant strangers, hell it worked for her...maybe I should ask her to spot me a couple of Bens.

and then

o I'm so tired. So tired that I can't sleep because my body is drowning in adrenaline and unhealthy amounts of caffeine. I read once that sleep deprivation gives a better high than any drug. I wonder how long you need to go without sleep for that to happen, before the hallucinations and paranoia start?
o I love the smell of the air when it's pregnant with rain, that slightly metallic smell that reminds me of the sensation you get when you put a 9V battery on your tongue. Maybe I don't love that smell so much as a I miss that smell, that's what home smells like.
o I had more fun this weekend than I have had in a long long time. I actually remembered what it was like to have a real life, not the semi-agoraphobic life I've had for the past few years. But I went to a place with the most revolting bathrooms I have ever seen in my entire life...well maybe not as disgusting as the outhouses in basic training...but pretty damn close.
o In one week I'll be in New Orleans with Katie, taking vampire tours and snapping pictures of the front of Anne Rice's house, eating beignets and drinking cafe au lait al fresco, sitting in intricately wrought iron chairs, going out to bars and hearing rumors that Lindsay Lohan might be making an appearance that night, looking for a real voodoo shop and having a psychic reading that will hopefully involve a chicken's foot and dust from the ground bones of somebody's great-grandmother who had the gift and passed it on to the person in front of me, maybe actually believing when they tell me something specifically vague like "your money will be tight for the next year but then it'll get better, and love is waiting for you but you're not ready to accept it." It's gonna be great. I'll take a ton of touristy pictures with no artistic value whatsoever for people to enjoy or criticize.

pants on fire

Distraction plays a very important role in my life, though usually not a positive one. I get distracted often. Sometimes I have trouble maintaining a conversation because I'll see a fly or somebody with a bright colored piece of clothing will walk by. Tonight I was backing into the driveway and I heard a weird crunching sound under my tire and got really distracted because I was worried that I was driving on the next door lawn, which would be a bad way to start off a new neighbor relationship. So I'm looking at the lawn and forget that my foot is still on the gas and BAM, I run into the fence. So I broke the fence, but it's still standing and I mostly got it back into place. And the obviously broken parts...well the landlady has ivy and morning glories growing all along it so come spring time when I vacate these premises...the plants will cover the splintered wood. I've already rationalized not telling her about it (ie lying) by mentally tallying all of the slum-lord things she's done like A. not fixing the gutters so that the porch becomes the super-slippery path of death or dismemberment after it rains or B. the fact that she didn't mention the fact that the cracks in the house let out all the heat so even though I leave my house at an average of 58 degrees, I still pay a two-hundred dollar electricity bill. What's a shitty, moldy three foot fence compared to that?

serenity now

If I ever end up in a comaor lose my mental faculties with ageor go completely bonkersor if my glorious mane thins and my strands become limp and stringyPLEASE for the love of all things good in the world, NEVER EVER let me believe for one moment that a perm is a good idea.

second guessing

Have I mentioned that I'm planning on moving back to Washington (state not DC, although I wouldn't mind living in DC again)? Yep, after this semester ends, the family is trucking on over to Kentucky to watch me graduate and then help me move. I really don't know how to feel about all this, I definitely have mixed emotions. On the one hand, it will be nice to be near the family again and it'll be cool to reconnect with the few people I still know. And it'll be nice to live somewhere a little more accepting and diverse...not that Louisville is all that bad, but I hope never to hear phrases like "that neighborhood is getting dark" again. And Louisville is known for NOT having a "scene" for younger people, particularly single people in my age bracket...it's all about the family unit here. But on the other hand I'm reluctant to go back because I have a certain sense of security here, I have a decent job and I can mostly afford to live on my own here, unlike in Washington where I am doomed to either live with my mother or live with roommates, neither of which is a prospect I look forward to. I can most likely get into the graduate program of my choice here. Honestly though, I think worst part of this moving thing is the idea that in ten years, my life has gone in a big circle. In ten years I'll have ended up exactly where I started...the only difference being that I'm older, fatter, even more cynical, and incredibly jaded...not really the way to start buildling a "new" life I suspect. And I know my fear/reluctance/second-guessing is nothing unique, I know that everybody asks the same questions. But if everybody has asked...shouldn't somebody know the answer?

question?

How do people manage to finish school in four years and then go on to grad school and finish that before age 28? I realize now that I never should have put off going to school. I am seriously questioning my ability to make it through this last semester. Not because the classes are even remotely difficult, but simply because my motivation level decreases exponentially the closer I get to graduation. What ever happened to the second wind? That last minute burst of energy that propels you across the finish line where you collapse into a pool of your own sweat and bile? And then there's the whole matter of what to do post graduation. I know I need to go on to grad school because my degree is even less useful than a solitary square of one-ply toilet paper, but just thinking about it gives me a huge brain-ache (not the same ache that get from my requisite skull abuse mind you). Plus I haven't taken any steps to get into grad school. I'm fooling myself into thinking that I'll just take a year off...which incidentally I told myself at eighteen and that turned into ten years off. It's inevitable that I'll end up either (A.) testing vials of blood, piss, and shit for the rest of my life or (B.) working as a barista at some corporate coffee wasteland.PS-I heart I Heart Huckabees