personal-schmersonal

My poor baby is having eye problems again and so he's back in his cone. It amazes me that people feel like it's totally reasonable to ask me why he's wearing it though would consider it gauche to ask a person how much money they're carrying in their wallet. Today for instance, as I was taking my furry child out for his evening walk, some woman rushes out of her house and stops me to ask why he's wearing the cone. Now mind you I was standing on the side of a very busy road and she was shouting at me from the safety of her front porch. Then people just STARED at my poor little puppy-spectacle on our little journey. Does it never cross their minds that my dog's condition is none of their business? I guess not. So now whenever somebody asks me what's wrong with my dog, I'm going to ask them something personal in response.
Them: "Hey, why's your dog wearing that?"
Me: "Hey, how many bowel movements do you make in one day?"

Them: "What's wrong with your dog?"
Me: "Do you masturbate often?"Etc.

beezelbub

Two days in a row, the total calories burned calculation on the excercise machine (two different machines mind you) read 666. So does that make me satan or excercise satan? Cause it's a toss-up at this point.

you suck!

Holy shit, Wal-Mart and all of its business subsidiaries are fucking SATAN!!! Satan with a capital S! And they are a bunch of incompetent morons who can kiss my ass. See, I used to have a Sam's Club account that my X opened. When we got divorced we separated the account so he would have his and I would have mine. I rarely used it but the last time I used to they asked me if I wanted to add the Discover card to the account and I stupidly said yes. So a month goes by and I never got the card in the mail, in fact I hadn't gotten my bill either. So I call them up and ask them what's up and it turns out they were sending my bills to my ex-husband's old address in Georgia because they hadn't separated the accounts fully. Luckily they hadn't sent out a credit card. But I wasn't taking any chances and cancelled it all, the membership, the line of credit, and that stupid credit card. Today I check the mail and it's something from Sam's Club, I assumed it was the letter I asked them to send to confirm the cancellation...but NOOOOOOOO! It's a bill, apparently somebody in Mississippi who has a real penchant for beans and rice has my credit card. I am FUMING at this point and I call the stupid company to see what's up...twenty minutes of run-around time later I finally get to talk to the credit people. Apparently some other woman, with the same first and last name but different middle initial, has a Sam's Club account too. And I'm getting her bills, and god only knows where her bills were going because she had called the company last Wednesday to change the mailing address. And she had cancelled the account when they were going someplace else but had it reopened when she realized that there was no fraud taking place. Lucky for me, it was her SSN on the account on not mine. Seriously, how can people get it so wrong so many times? I guess I shouldn't expect much from a multi-billion dollar company who markets their low low prices and high moral values but outsources their labor to third-world countries where eight year old children are starved to death in order to make the neon colored picnic-ware and Kathie Lee Gifford line of clothing...that or they sell fifty gallon vats of pickles and enough oatmeal to feed an African nation and THEN encourage their employees to file for state provided welfare benefits. ASSHOLES!!!

intimacy

My mom has a friend who happens to be a guy, they're really good friends. They work at the same place and have known each other for years. He's a really nice guy, I like him a lot...the total opposite of my mother, quiet, mellow, rational. So he comes over every day, and has been coming over every day for about six years now. My mom cooks for him, he does stuff around the house for her, and they have a nice compansionship.But in MY family, you can't have anything without a little controversy. We pretend to be all nonchalant about it, but it's obviously just a front as we spend hours analyzing this relationship and most of that analysis revolves around whether or not mom and this person are more than friends?I say no, they're just friends. They're two lonely people who enjoy each other's company and both get something out of it, he gets a hot home cooked meal and she gets her gutters cleaned (no matter what chore I pick, it just sounds like innuendo, dammit). My sister and sister-in-law think I'm deluded and even worse, prudish. But I really don't think I'm in some "but ewwwww, that's my mommy you're talking about" state of mind, where I can't possibly imagine my parent as a sexual being. I just don't see that level of intimacy two people share, where you can look at them and say, "Yup, they're screwing."But my point here is this, can two people of the opposite sex NEVER be friends without people thinking that sex somehow fits into the equation? And not just two straight people because even when it's a gay/straight friendship, inevitably somebody thinks that the straight is trying to flip the gay. Hell, can two gay or lesbian people be good friends without the question of whether or not they're fucking ever coming up? Do all relationships with the potential for sexual intimacy have to be realized in order for them to be understood? Or am I really just a prude who can't think of people I care about doing the dirty dirty?

crazy eights

For some odd and inexplicable reason, people who are a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic are drawn to me. They're compelled to talk to me. I discovered this cosmic attraction in high school since our town has a state-run mental institution and our high school was directly across the street from it. The residents would talk to me everywhere, at the gas station, on the bus, when I went to the park... and it wasn't like I ever initiated the conversation, I didn't send inviting glances, hell I didn't even make eye contact for the most part...but still, crazy people inevitably approached me (and you can usually tell the crazies by the state of their fingernails). So today at the Y, I was working out on the elliptical machine, lost in my own thoughts as I contemplated more reasons to hate myself. All of the sudden I notice this lady in front of me, she's staring directly at me and talking. So thinking she is trying to tell me that I was bleeding out of my ears or my eye is about to pop out, I take off my headphones. Then she starts telling me about her daughter who wants to go to a party but she called the house and it was a party of nothing but boys and her daughter would be the only girl. No correct that, she doesn't start telling me cause she's already about a forth of the way through the conversation and just kept on going as if I had been listening from the very beginning. I half-heartedly replied and put my headphones back on, trying to be politely dismissive. But I notice her mouth is still moving and she is still staring right at me. So I stare back and nod at her for a bit, hoping she doesn't figure out I've still got my headphones on and can't hear shit. But then I start to feel a little guilty and I turn down the music and listen. So she starts telling me how she's out of lithium and some other medication, how she's been depressed for four years and that is four years too many, and how her PA can't sign off on the prescriptions so she'll have to get her psychiatrist to do it. All the while she's rolling away on her wheelchair, three feet per sentence. And this went on for ten minutes with little encouragement on my part. So I think I might be giving off some high-pitched noise that only crazy people can hear. Either that or I'm a lot crazier than I think I am and these people recognize one of their own.

what the hell?

Whenever you move someplace new, inevitably you start thinking how THESE drivers are the WORST drivers ever. I thought that in DC, definitely thought it in Hawaii, complained on-and-on about it in Kentucky...well guess what...drivers in Washington are the WORST drivers ever (which probably doesn't say a lot about me since I pretty much learned to drive and got my first license here). Maybe it's all the damn landscaping, freakin' big ass trees and massive hedges and blackberry bushes that will most assuredly take over the world someday. Maybe that's why people don't feel a particular need to stop before of at the end of their road but instead stop about three feet into the main road, they just can't see shit because of all the greenery. Maybe things have changed and the right of way no longer belongs to the person already on the main road but to the person on the side road, that could explain the evil-eye people give to me when I look at them in disbelief. Maybe evolution brought on by too much rain and constant overcast conditions changed the shape of the eyeball so now everybody has depth perception problems. I just don't know...but one thing is for damn sure, I'll have to move to New York City, L.A., maybe even Italy in order to keep up with this trend of worsening driving situations.

mikey likes is

Have you ever had somebody recommend something to you, something they knew "you would just LOVE!" And then it turns out that you hate it, that actually you think it's a big steaming pile of orangutan dung. Then you're left thinking, "Wow, this person doesn't know shit about me." And then you start thinking to yourself, "Hmmm, exactly who does so-and-so think I am?" Then you get really fuming mad, that irrational anger that makes your eyes bulge out of their sockets, and you call up said person and start screaming at them about being a grade-A asshole who obviously never paid very close attention to you, who doesn't know their head from their ass, who if they actually knew the difference between their head and ass they would realize how far up their ass their head actually was! Yeah, I don't do that last part either. But I spend a lot of time coming up with these elaborate scenarios that eventually lead to the beginnings of a serial killing spree. Call me crazy...just don't recommend any books you think crazy people might like.

laundromania

Intro:
I have these massive Korean bedspreads called mink blankets. They're huge, weigh a fucking ton and a half, and won't fit in a standard washer and dryer. Therefore, I have to lug my blankets around to laundromats that have the extra-capacity front-loading washers.
Story:
Now once in Kentucky I went to wash my blankets before I put them away for the summer. When I walked into the joint, it was full of people. Ever so slowly, people trickled out and before I knew it, I was alone...well, technically I wasn't alone because the owner and proprietor was in the back room watching Korean serials (the best television shows ever!). So this guy walks in, a cowboy sort with too-tight Wranglers and a down-home polo shirt, and he goes to the bathroom. He comes out and walks by me as I'm taking my blankets out of the washer. Then he starts asking me questions about the washer, why is it more expensive, is it better than the other ones, do more clothes fit? So I patiently answer and then go to sit down and read my book. "Thanks a lot," he says. So I look up, "You're welcome." "No seriously, I really appreciate it," and I can tell by his tone that he needs some attention. So I look up, "Sure." Then I notice his arms moving, so my eyes follow his arms down to his hands. Of course I didn't have my glasses on and he was a good fifteen-twenty feet away so I think, "What is he doing with his belt buckle?" Then it clicks and I realize he's jiggling his dick at me. So I think I squealed and looked away as he ran out, probably pleased with himself that he had pulled it out and pulled one over. I go to ask the lady in the back room if she knew who he was and she says to me, "Oh no, I thought he was with you." I tell her that he most assuredly WAS NOT and her response, "Oh, well then I should have charged him a dollar for using the bathroom."
Follow up:
So since that fateful day, I am petrified of going to laundromats by myself. I get sweaty and go into panic-attack mode. But today I HAD to go all by myself to wash my blankets. First of all, they smelled musty and second I had to put them away for the summer. When I got there it was me and just one other guy, a sort of cowboy looking guy with too-tight Wranglers and a polo shirt. But he turned out okay, he traded me dimes and nickels for quarters so I didn't have to get five more bucks worth. But then these two women walked in and one of them, easily pushing about 290, was walking around in a tank-top with no bra on and really tight jeans with the button undone (actually more like unable to be done) and the waist-band rolled down. So now I have new things to fear...I may never reach a good place with the laundromat.

bummed out

Man, don't you HATE that feeling you get in your stomach when something you thought would happen doesn't? That nauseous, fluttery feeling where you don't know whether to scream or cry? Dammit, I don't know why I let myself get worked up over long shots.

lecherous

My sister warned me about this guy they hang out with, she said that he'll try to screw anything with genitalia remotely resembling a vagina. I saw this first hand the first time we went out and he eventually ended up shagging this girl who would sleep with a goat if it made her feel momentarily attractive. But he hadn't hit on me, so wow...what a blow to the ego right? But I guess I'm vindicated now because he tried to hook it up last night and even tried to follow me into the bathroom, at which point I yelled out, "Dude, I'm taking a big stinky shit and I need some privacy!" Though note that I wasn't making number two, I just thought (and rightly so) that it was the quickest and most sure-fire way to get rid of him. So I guess that makes me a regular old girl now and not the Medusa with the venus-flytrap vagina that I was slowly starting to suspect I was.

honest = best policy ?

How exactly are you supposed to answer when your mother's friend asks you if you smoke the "happy smoke" while miming the requisite thumb and forefinger finger squeeze while sucking her cheeks into hollow pits? Do you tell the truth? Do you lie? And then what do you do when your mom says, "Yeah, whenever her, S____, and S______ get together."? Do you still deny all accusations as nothing more than circumstantial? Or do you just give it up to mom's keen sense of observation? Personally, I say deny, deny, deny...we all have our little roles to play in life and lying to your parents is just one of them.

hello ass, meet thumb

o So when does an "extended vacation" officially become a loser's life? I think I'm just about ready to cross that threshold.
o When Katie and I went to New Orleans, we had the obligatory psychic reading (because I guess the more crawdads you eat, the closer in tune you are with the psychic realm). Her tea-reading lady was AWESOME...everything she said would happen has happened and not just to her, to her family as well. My guy, a total fluke...there was supposed to be money and love and good things. Never believe anybody with overplucked eyebrows...if they can't predict the sheer and complete WRONG of having no arch left in their brow, then they certainly CANNOT predict my future.
o On the plus side, I found a graduate program that I'm interested in. On the minus side, I have to take the GRE and wait until Fall 2006.
o I still have no job prospects, which is crazy! I HAVE A LIBERAL ARTS DEGREE!!! I thought that meant like guaranteed six-figure salary with full benes and company Mercedes, but then again I am out of my Lithium and Risperdol.
o Also, the weather here is ass. Here we are, on the cusp of summer...and it is fucking 63 degrees outside. It almost makes me yearn for the days of 90 degree heat with 90 percent humidity, almost.

chasm

45 miles. That's the approximate distance between Lakewood and Seattle. But after Jen's party last night, I'm starting to think that 45 miles might as well be 450 miles. I don't know how many times people asked me "So what's Tacoma like?" in the same wonderous way they would ask, "So what's Kentucky like?" You would think Tacoma and Seattle are neighboring states rather than neighboring cities. I'm not sure how I'm expected to answer. Do they think we're super-country and I'm going to yeehaw and slap my knee in hee-haw joy? Do they think we're super-ghetto and I'm gonna bust out wid som' ghetto flava? It's funny to me because in my study of urban centers, the books all consider the Seattle-Tacoma area just one major metropolis...but the people obviously don't agree.

double your pleasure

Lessons for the day:Just because one of something is great, doubling up on it doesn't necessarily make it better. And you can sleep for eighteen hours straight to recover from a massive migraine and still wake up tired as hell.

slacker

One of the greatest things about being unemployed is that I can party all night on a Thursday and not have to worry about getting up in the morning and schlepping off to a job that I would probably hate anyway. That my friends is one of the benefits of having no responbilities whatsoever. Of course, I'll feel quite differently when my money runs dry and I am selling my ass on the street corner to pay for my car insurance. I can see it now, all cracked out on the street trying to pay for my pet insurance and make-up addiction. "Wassup baby, I'll suck yo dick for a MAC eyeliner." But it feels good to feel young again, really really good.

naked dreaming

I have an irrational fear of running into people from high school. The fear has seeped into my subconscious mind because I dreamt about some people from high school the other night and had a dream about another high school boy last night. Oddly enough, the morning after I dreamt about the pharmacists, I checked out my friend Jen's Evite page, and lo and behold one of the guys in the dream is going to be attending. I think my fear of running into people stems from the fact that we'll have the obligatory banal banter about what we've been up to since high school, what we're doing for a living, blah blah blah. I get a migraine just thinking about it, mostly because I loathe that I've lived such an ordinary life. So this morning in the shower I decided to tell people that I've just gotten out of prison. I've developed a whole backstory too and I gave it a feminist edge.

flowers in the attic

I think I've read too many V.C. Andrews novels because I am slowly convincing myself that my mother is putting arsenic in my cookies...my stomach has been hurting all week.I had a recruiter interview yesterday. Since when did interviewing become a two-step process. Whatever happened to sending in your resume, going in for an interview, and then getting a job? Seriously, this isn't nuclear weapon development we're talking about...it's testing pee.

unexpected

Here's something you probably wouldn't have imagined...Tori Amos covering a Kylie Minogue song.

dream a little dream

I remember most of my dreams and they generally seem to indicate that I am one crazy mofo. The other night my dream involved supermodels and the Dog from Dog the Bounty Hunter (a hilarious show that takes place in Hawaii by the way) who were trying to rob and murder me. I can't remember the reason, but I do remember waking up shouting for the police, except I woke up completely half way through the shout so it sounded like "PPPOOOLLLarrgghhhbrrrrssstt."Then last night I had this weird dream that a room full of people were trying to score some drugs from these two guys I went to high school with (initials S.F. and B.F. to anybody interested) and they had this massive set-up that was just like a pharmacy. And one of the guys even dressed in the white pharmacist jacket while dispensing the narcotics. For some reason, there were also a lot of supermodels in this dream, except this time there was a brawl and later a quick Getaway in a Geo Metro that I drove on styrofoam bridges until I got to this twenty-story Sears building where I went to shop for throw rugs and I kept quoting the dudism, "I need something to tie the room together."Anyway, I can figure out the significance of supermodels harassing me, but styrofoam bridges... who knows?

crushed

So the other night when I was massively drunk, apparently I stared too long at a guy and now he thinks I like him. Granted, I do think he's attractive, both physically and otherwise...but I do not "like him that way." I don't know what bothers me more...(A) that you can't just be drunk around somebody and do the things that drunks do like stare or talk too much or smile and laugh for no reason (oh no wait...that's high, not drunk) without them immediately jumping to the conclucion that you like them, (B) I am starting to become transparent in my old age and not very good at fronting anymore, or (C) that I am so repulsive that somebody would be concerned that I am into them, or (D) that I'm in a constant six year cycle where I keep living and reliving my junior high and high school days over and over and over again, ad nauseum. What the fuck? That whole, "you can never go home again" is bullshit...because you can, and it usually fucking sucks just as bad the second time around.

june cleaver

My mom has always had this secret desire to turn me into a "proper woman." I swear, I have received more skirt and sweater sets in the last two weeks than I have bought for myself in the last two years. And I have a purse, a REAL purse, and not the messenger bags or anime covered children's bags I normally carry. But one thing I wouldn't let her talk me into getting, a cute pair of shoes. I heart ugly shoes, and I super duper heart flip-flops/slippahs/sandals/thongs, and even though I tell myself that I'm going to buy just one pair of inappropriate shoes with a high spiked heel and pointy toes, I always end up going with a more sensible shoe. But then again, Dr. Marten Mary Janes with a three-inch sole would look pretty kick ass with my new fifties housewife outfits.

liquid courage

I got so hammered last night, all because my sister's significant other invited this guy to a barbeque that I'm totally crushing on...because I'm junior high like that. Words of widsdom, never have philosophical/semantic arguments when you're drunk and outnumbered 3 to 1, and the other three are guys who get that whole penile comraderie thing going. Especially don't argue when you're drunk when you are already the kind of person who's voice gets fifteen octaves higher and twelve decibels louder each and every time somebody disagrees with you. Being loud and obnoxious... probably not the best way to impress a guy...but then again being a fat-ass isn't either.

bored

I have nothing to post about...mostly because I have nothing going on right now. No job, no school, no B., no K, no ANTM/Qdoba night, no useless errands. Unless you want to hear about the sale they have at Albertson's...I got nothing. So let's play a vocabulary game, and no cheating by running to a thesaurus.Come up with three synonyms pertaining to some aspect of boredom. It can be a verb, noun, adverb, present tense, past tense, etc. The person with the best word wins nothing less than the sheer joy of having a better vocabulary than everybody else.ennuilackadaisical-I had to look up the spelling for this one, but I wasn't too far offuninterested