meme time

Go to Google images
Enter ALL of your initials and click Search.
Click the first picture that comes up, then click "See full-size image"
Post your initials with the picture (or the url to the picture) and explain how it relates to you.
Post these instructions on your website, blog, etc.



My result:



A hotel in St. Petersburg, Russia.
The acronym bears the same letters as my initials.
Oddly, the hotel's description fits me pretty well too:
"a dreary 1970s concrete block, but it does offer affordable, clean, and unpretentious accommodation."

six feet under

Does anybody watch this show? It was great the first season. I knew I would forever love this show when Brenda suggestively said, "No, not that kind of ride." Nevertheless, it did experience a wee bit of the sophomore slump and flagged a bit the second and third seasons, but even at its worst it was and is still better than 99% of the other shite on the tellie. But by the fourth season, they came back like a lion. The whole Lisa storyline, George losing his shit and gaining truck-fulls of somebody else's, Claire finally coming into her own through hilarious sexual misadventures...and I immediately forgave them the last two seasons when they had Justin Thereoux as a bondage loving band geek. Now, the final season and it's bittersweet. I think it might be better than the first season. The writing, the acting, the story arcs, I'm so involved in the characters, except for Maggie...that calm, tranquil, zen bitch should have stayed in Arizona. I cannot believe what just happened this last episode, my heart shattered into a million tiny crystalline pieces of pure devastation. I can't wait for the next episode, but then again I don't want to be watching the last few episodes because then it will be done, no future seasons. There will definitely be a hole in the already vacuous land of television that will never be filled when this show ends.

gag me with a spoon

Bulimics are very specific about the foods they consume when they binge and purge. Definite no on the tortilla chips, too many sharp edges that could reak havoc on the throat. They pass on the spicy food because spicy plus stomach acid does not a happy esophogus make. They don't indulge in bread either because it clumps too much, and vomiting up big wads of bread is probably similar to pushing a baby out of a vag. But bulimics love stuff like cake, soft cake and smooth icing...mmm mmm good both down and up the hatch. They love cereal (but not Corn Pops or Raisin Bran) because the milk is so much the better for upchucking. But the all-time fave of most bulimics is ice cream...it's just as good coming up as going down, soft and cool...a real pleasure for the regular purger. But bulimia just doesn't really work for everybody. Take vegans for instance, they can't have the milk or the cake or the ice cream, and lactose intolerants, well I'm sure you can just imagine. Plus, the foods for bulimics are just so darn unhealthy. So I think we should institute a healthier more organic bulimia. Judging by today's unfortunate turn of events, I've found that tofu is ideal for puking, whether self-induced or not. The consistency makes it easy to hurl, it doesn't leave too bad an aftertaste, and you don't get as much stomach acid as you would trying to break down a big hamburger or something. So now everybody can be on the bulimia bandwagon and not just celebrities and sorority girls.

adventures in babysitting

It's not that I don't like children...well okay, maybe I don't like children who aren't blood related. But mostly, it's the responsibility involved in caring for children that I don't particularly enjoy. I watched my brother's girls yesterday and it wasn't as much fun as just going to their house and visiting. There were many responsibilities and too much rule enforcement. I admit it, I'm totally selfish and frankly I just want to be the fun aunt. The one they can play Barbies with and who will join in when they have fart contests. I want to recklessly chase them around the house while they carry scissors. I want to make toast while sitting on the ledge of the tub as they take their nighty-night baths. I want to teach them dirty words and slip them a twenty so they can go out and buy make-up for their first clandestine meeting with the boyfriend their parents hate. I don't want to yell at them and create boundaries. I don't want to not buy things because of the choking hazards and mercury filling. And certainly, I don't want to be in any kind of situation where I have to take advice from Dr. Phil. What's fun about that? Kids should be more like dogs. You love your dogs, they love you...even when they're in their teen years. You can leave them in the car with the windows down when you need to run into the drug store for one of mommy's little helpers. You get to leave them at home when you want to go out and eat. They lick their own butts so bathing is optional. Seriously, it doesn't get more perfect than that.

skeletor

There's a girl at the Y, she can't be more than 25. She is disgustingly, revoltingly thin. Her bones stick out all over the place, you can see each little bump of her spine. Her face looks like somebody recently deceased who hasn't been pumped full of embalming fluid. And she's like some mad-woman on the exercise machines. Obviously she is determined to burn every calorie she has EVER consumed in her entire life each and every time she works out. I find her very frightening. If I had to choose between being her and being 400 pounds, I might opt for the 400 pounds. At least that way you can kill yourself by being a lazy, orally fixated hedonist. They should institute a law at the gym similar to the ones they have in bars. Once a person gets too drunk, you have to stop serving them...so once a person gets that sickeningly thin, you should force them out of the gym, drag them down to the vending machines, shove hohos down their throats and make them sit there until they digest.

hair-raising

Somebody needs to talk to the lady training me. How am I supposed to pay attention and concentrate on what she's explaining to me when she has the thickest mustache I have ever seen outside of Sturgis? Not just thick but long too. And she's got a little soul patch growing, which can almost distract me from some horrendously crooked lower teeth. Seriously, how can I think about the proper way to use the machine when her chin-mole hairs are trying to ensnare me? It's impossible!

self-induced amnesia

Man, you know you've had one crazy night when you wake up with bruises all over your body that you just can't explain. How do you get a bruise on your boob? I don't remember there being a mosh pit or any chest region man-handling. But then again I also don't remember most of the text messaging version of drunk dialing I did either, though I'm almost certain I mailed a picture of a toilet. And come-on lines...generally really lame, but every once in a while you get something so creative you almost feel compelled to reward the person just on principle...not that I'm THAT much of a prize, but as almost everybody knows self-esteem is directly proportional to the amount of liquor one consumes.

weekend update

Man, having to work REALLY makes you appreciate having a weekend off. Especially the whole sleeping in part of the deal. Waking up before The Today Show ends just has no appeal other than the fact that you can get a croissant breakfast thingie from Burger King. It's easier for me to stay awake all night than it is for me to force myself out of a warm and cozy slumber. Plus, you dream a lot more when you aren't forced awake by the insanely loud harping of an alarm clock, and I am the kind of person that remembers my dreams and then overanalyzes them. Although yesterday, despite having to be awake before the roosters, I had the BEST dream. I woke up with a smile and knew I was going to have a great day. And I did. There wasn't any traffic on the way to work. I didn't screw up training. Then I went to see my awesome friend Jen and we hung out and had a great dinner, I haven't had crab cakes that delicious since I lived in DC. We watched Strangers With Candy, I remembered that the show is funny, but I forgot how completely random it is, Amy Sedaris is my hero...those DVDs are on definitely on my to buy list. To wrap up the day, I drove home and they actually weren't doing any construction, I didn't get pulled over by any of the kabillion cops that were out last night and I made it home lickity split. So now Saturday is upon me and I haven't a clue what I should be out doing. Because when you work, you're supposed to make your weekends count right? It's been a while, I can't really remember.

weekend update

Man, having to work REALLY makes you appreciate having a weekend off. Especially the whole sleeping in part of the deal. Waking up before The Today Show ends just has no appeal other than the fact that you can get a croissant breakfast thingie from Burger King. It's easier for me to stay awake all night than it is for me to force myself out of a warm and cozy slumber. Plus, you dream a lot more when you aren't forced awake by the insanely loud harping of an alarm clock, and I am the kind of person that remembers my dreams and then overanalyzes them. Although yesterday, despite having to be awake before the roosters, I had the BEST dream. I woke up with a smile and knew I was going to have a great day. And I did. There wasn't any traffic on the way to work. I didn't screw up training. Then I went to see my awesome friend Jen and we hung out and had a great dinner, I haven't had crab cakes that delicious since I lived in DC. We watched Strangers With Candy, I remembered that the show is funny, but I forgot how completely random it is, Amy Sedaris is my hero...those DVDs are on definitely on my to buy list. To wrap up the day, I drove home and they actually weren't doing any construction, I didn't get pulled over by any of the kabillion cops that were out last night and I made it home lickity split. So now Saturday is upon me and I haven't a clue what I should be out doing. Because when you work, you're supposed to make your weekends count right? It's been a while, I can't really remember.

kids incorporated

For some inexplicable reason people willingly go on the journey known as parenthood. Why? I have no idea, I've heard there's a ticking clock of some kind. Just one day with my brother's spawn is enough to compel me to get my birth control prescription refilled, lest I be "blessed" with crying over toys (the crier being me only a third of the time), being told to "back off" by a five year old, and washing a poo-poo butt other than my own during bathtime. Sure, some parent might try to convince me that the hugs & kisses, "I love you"s, and gut-busting laughter because of the funny things kids say makes it all worth it. But I have enough reasons to shroud myself in self-loathing, screwing up an innocent bystander would just add a really uncomfortable fifty foot train.

special, so special

In every job, a worker always has a knack for something, at least one thing that a person is just a little bit better at than everybody else. Even I, lab dunce that I am, have that one skill. I haven't used it in a long time, not since I was government issued. But today, surprisingly, I found that I haven't lost my little gift. See in the lab, we often have to diagnose "artifacts" or "foreign bodies" in stuff like urine and genital swabs...and for some reason, I can spot a spermatozoa like nobody's business, particularly when it's in a gal's specimen. Within seconds of popping in a slide, if there is a single wiggly-guy to be found, I'll find it. I'm like the McGruff of post-coital remnants...nobody goes missing on my watch.

high beams

Did I mention how freezing cold the orientation room was today? BRRRR, it was cold even though I happened to be wearing a t-shirt and a sweater. All us newbies were unpleasantly surprised by the lack of climate control in that torture chamber they call a conference room. But the human resources ladies, they're there every frikkin' day, so the frigid temperatures should come as no shock. Therefore, I cannot and will not forgive any of them for their short sightedness in wearing thin, silky, white blouses. I checked the orientation schedule AND the checklist and the areola & nipple color/shape/size gallery viewing was nowhere to be found.

the wheels on the bus go round and round

The transit website neglected to mention that public transportation is deodorant optional and where bad hair goes to die.

semper fi

I think that orientation days are like the first few days of basic training. They're designed to weed out the weak, only the strong survive through the torment of this level of tortuously, mind-numbing boredom.

countdown

I'm in a pissy mood today, so you'll forgive my negativity. I'm trying to savor this final day as a freeloader but all I feel is tired. I haven't even started working and I'm exhausted, from digging out my uniforms to looking up bus schedules to meeting my rideshare person...stick a fork in me already. The guy I'm ridesharing with is nice enough but he's the kind of person who thinks nothing is too personal to share with a total stranger. Fifteen minutes with him and I know all about his three ex-wives, why they divorced and his financial situation.I'm really nervous about starting this new job. Let's just say that I haven't had a stellar career in the lab. I've managed to either get by on my looks or sheer luck or something else entirely because I've always worked the easiest jobs out there. Now, I'm going to be working a "real" lab job where they expect me to use skills and knowledge I've long since forgotten. It's a little frightening, especially since it's not some job where I can just wing it or bullshit my way through it because, you know, I could potentially kill somebody if I screw up...ack, the pressure.Oh and fyi, I didn't get that unemployment. Apparently my reasons weren't "compelling" enough. I'm not disappointed because I didn't really think I would get it, but I am a little irritated. I hate to pull the vag-card here but the decision is some sexist bullshit. When I was a nice little wifey and moved for my husband, THAT was a compelling enough reason to get unemployment. But after becoming a divorcee and moving for myself, well that's just not reason enough. So a big middle-finger to the unemployment office of the armpit of the Midwest.

as a heart attack

Have you ever met one of those people that are too serious? They don't have that on/off switch to tells them that in some social situations, they're supposed to be light-hearted. All they do is talk about serious things. They'll ruin a perfectly good time by bringing up something just to get everybody heated, because you just can't help but get pulled into that black hole of acerbity*. And I don't mean a person who just loves to debate because the serious person is grim even when you agree with them. They're all about analyzing emotional states and telling you about their bad childhood or worse telling you what their therapist says is wrong with them. Or worst of all, they try to tell you about yourself, as if the five minutes they spent with you somehow gave them insight into your entire life. They grasp onto something like cultural background and think they've got you ALL figured out. Now don't get me wrong, I can have elements of this person from time to time, I can be a pretentious prick too...but I like to think I have a sense of humor and a certain frivolity to balance that out. Having that oh-so-serious attitude must feel like walking around with a fifty pound cement block chained to your leg, which kind of explains why those people are considered a drag.

*As you can see, I've been using the thesaurus again. (but apparently not the spellcheck, why didn't anybody tell me I misspelled thesaurus the first time around)

fight club

I filed for unemployment when I left Kentucky. They denied it and I appealed because they gave me the option, so I took it. I ended up having to go through arbitration because they wanted to see if I had been dishonest about my claim. Needless to say, I was pissed that they called my integrity into question. You can call me lazy, you call me ugly, hell you can call me Maurice, but don't ever call me a liar when I am in fact telling the truth. I was pumped for the arbitration, I decided that since there was a snowballs chance in hell I was getting the unemployment, I would be the biggest bitch they had ever encountered. I was going to yell, accuse my workplace of nefarious deeds (all of them true mind you), say rotten and vicious things that would cut like a knife...I was ready for a governmental battle royale of epic proportions that would make them rue the day they dared to deny me my freakin' benefits. But then the day rolled around (at 6:30 in the morning cause of the time change...assholes) and what a let-down. The conference call came and my former employer didn't even bother to respond. The guy on the phone was pleasant and it lasted a whole five minutes. Hell, the stupid oath they administered took longer than the testimony. I feel like those credit card commercials where the Vikings run in to pillage and burn because of the high interest rates, then find out the mayhem is called off and walk away dejected.

fire, water, burn

I usually stay pretty pasty-pale. I don't know if it's the remnants of the gothic lifestyle I once tried on for size or the complete phobia I have of aging, but I am usually fairly melanin challenged. So yesterday on what was probably the hottest day we've had all summer, it probably wasn't a good idea to spend the entire day outside without having slathered myself with sunblock. I have the worst sunburn I've had since I decided to lay out for seven hours straight the day before we left Hawaii. I feel like a piece of bacon sizzling on a smoking-hot iron skillet. I'm almost afraid to jump in the shower and feel those stinging needles of water pressing down on my tenderized flesh.Also, completely unrelated to the scorching hotness of my outer shell, I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory last night. Truthfully, I didn't love it like I thought I would. The whole movie all I could think about was Gene Wilder's blue blue eyes. And the original Veruca Salt was much better. Don't get me wrong, I still liked it. I mean nobody can do crazy and still be hot like Johnny Depp...I think it's just one of those movies I'll have to watch several times before I really start to like it.

noise-pollution

I must be getting old because somebody down the street played and replayed and replayed the Yin Yang Twins cd last night until like three in the morning and their stereo had a lot of bass so you could hear it from miles away. God, I was pissed because it interrupted my pharmaceutically (legal mind you) enhanced sense of calm. If I ever hear that stupid Whisper Song again, I might have to kill somebody. Stupid kids and their new fangled music, can't they just listen to the grunge or Sir Mix-a-Lot from my day.

ghetto gourmet kitchen

Did you know that Hostess products have a web-page? And on that page, they have recipes. Not just any recipes...but recipes that any gourmand can be proud of, including a Twinkie Wedding Cake! Young brides in trailer parks around the world are very very excited.

old kleenex

There's nothing worse than letting money come between people. So why do people always put themselves in the position of letting money get in the way? Who's really in the wrong anyway? The people who borrow the money, the ones who never bring up paying the money back, as if avoiding the situation will alleviate them of their fiscal responsibility? Or is it the people who lend the money, knowing they probably won't get it back but holding onto that smoldering grudge nonethless until it eats away every positive facet of the relationship? The borrower who feels weak and beholden to the lender so that they start resenting them? The lender who feels used because they think the relationship is being measured in the dollar and cents that they can part with? I can't borrow money from other people, I don't even like to borrow ten bucks for a day...all the love and respect and time you spend investing in a relationship can just poof, disappear because of money and that seems like such a stupid reason. Personally, I'd prefer sex or violence be the things to get in the way of my friendships.

steamed at stinkies

Dear Miss Manners,

I was working out in a completely empty exercise room today when a woman came in and started working out on the machine right next to mine. I was a little confused because all of the other machines were empty (including approximately 15 additional machines in other rooms) and the woman didn't use any of them. It would never occur to me to use the machine right next to somebody when there are other machines to choose from. Could you please let me know if there are any rules of thumb regarding exercise machine use? Thank you very much.

Leary in Lakewood,
LisaM.

Dear Leary,

I am often asked this question and have to wonder what could possibly make a person choose to sweat right next to another person when they don't have to. I have found that workout machine etiquette is just like urinal etiquette, never use the potty adjacent to another person unless it is completely unavoidable or you are cruising for a glory hole partner (which has complicated rules all its own found in Miss Manners Does San Francisco co-authored by my glorious son/stylist Kristopher). Lucky for you, you can test your urinal etiquette here so that you won't make the awful faux-paux of getting too close to people unless absolutely necessary. Remember, it's just bad manners to expose people to the smell of your ass-sweat, whether at the gym or at the potty, unless there are no other options.

Truly,
Miss M.

lots of fun with picture pages

They have a track inside the YMCA's building. There are five paintings around the track so that when I walk it, I'm inundated with these repetitive images. I think that the Y is slowly trying to indoctrinate me. Now it's probably just an innocent way to instill good values, but that wouldn't be very entertaining. So let's take a look at the pictures through the lens of LisaM.

ForgivenessSomehow I doubt that Shaft would be asking forgiveness from anybody with hair dangerously close to a mullet. Cause you know Shaft...he's a bad motha...

Respect

I'm pretty sure that making the Indian dude a stereotypical computer nerd without enough fashion sense to NOT pair a short-sleeve button down with khaki shorts and socks pulled up half-way to his knees is NOT respectful. And what's with the Fonz's thumb action on the other guy...respect? I think not.

Service

Well it's not really fair to expect us to serve in the same way these two are...look how big their hands are. I can't compete with that.

Honesty
Yeah yeah yeah, women are the cause of all evil. Our dishonesty and trickery got us kicked out of the Garden of Eden. Seriously, I get it...enough already

Responsbility

Doesn't old man Weatherbee know that Archie's entire existence relies on the fact that he's completely irresponsible! How else is old fire-crotch supposed to nail the hottest chicks in town?

CaringNow this may just look like it's just a nice young lady giving a caring hand to a nice boy. BUT, the deeper context is telling me something else. It's saying that Latina or Asian ladies, probably undocumented, should prepare themselves to become the "au pair" or "domestic help" of some upper middle class family who'll pay welfare wages and consider it a sign of their generosity to let the gals eat the leftovers that they spent hours preparing.

whoopsadaisy

When you've spent almost your entire life living with other people and then all of the sudden you're living by yourself, you get used to things. And it's hard to adjust when you start living with other people again. No more walking around naked, no more eating ice cream right out of the box, no more shaving of extraneous body hair in front of the hallway mirror. I definitely learned this one the hard way this morning, no more brushing of teeth with the lights off because the horror of realizing that you've just brushed your teeth with somebody else's toothbrush...I can only think of a handful of things more disgusting.

just an excuse to eat popcorn and candy

Just saw Fantastic Four today. It was complete summer fluff, so naturally I loved it because if I wanted to think, I would watch... hell who am I kidding, I don't mix thinking with my entertainment. Johnny Storm...HOT, no pun intended. Which reminds me, before the movie started my 10-year old niece says, "Wow, Johnny Storm is really hot!" referring to the fact that he could self-combust. The sis-in-law and I laughed and the niece says, "What's so funny? (Pause for a good ten seconds) OHHHHH, I get it now." Sometimes she's so grown-up...she's like a little mini-thirty year old. AND after watching this movie, I realize how unfair the world is...it's just not right for somebody as amazing looking as Alba to exist on the same planet as the rest of us ordinary folk...it's definitely a cosmic joke on the rest of womankind.

it's a small small world

I'm rarely recognized as myself, I am usually only recognized in relation to somebody I know. Usually it's something like, "Oh, you're a friend of so-and-so" or "Right, you work with that person." But back here I am recognized in relation to...well...my relations, and it's happened twice in the last twenty-four hours. The first time I was walking my pooch at the park and there was this minor traffic jam caused by butt sniffing and genital licking (I'll just let you assume I'm talking about the dogs). Then this woman starts calling out, "S----" and I ignore it. "S----? Hey, you're S---- right?" So it dawns on me that she's talking to me and I say, "No, but I have a sister named S----." "Oh, you're H---'s other daughter." Yep, I'm either my mother's other daughter or my sister's mysterious older sister who just moved from "Alabama, oh Kentucky, same thing"...not an actual person with my own name. Today I opened a bank account and the girl looks at my name and asks me if I have any relatives that also bank there. I tell her that I didn't think so, but then she asks me, "Are you sure you're not N-----'s sister?" "Ahhhh, I am indeed his sister, I didn't realize he banked here."Hmmm, I guess I only have an identity when it is attached to somebody else. So does that make me an identity parasite?

frankie says relax

So what do you do after a long day of fixing the piece of shit car that belongs to your friend's daughter? Get a cucumber and honey facial of course! Like I really even needed to ask that question.

pinocchio

Almost everybody in this country has a car, but only about 1 in 50 people know anything about properly caring for it. Why don't they teach us that shit in school? Because let me tell you I've been hosed by mechanics hundreds of times but I've NEVER had to find the derivative of the tangent line of a circle. But I suppose that's the point of capitalism...make sure we're as ignorant as possible about the things that would actually be useful to us and then have somebody charge exorbitant rates to take advantage of our ignorance. So mechanics are on my shit list right now, they tried to hard sell me about five hundred bucks worth of services that I didn't need. The only reason I know I didn't need them is because my mom's friend checked to see if what they said jived since I suspected that they were trying to hose me. Had it not been for him I probably would have gotten the work done. So with that in mind, here is my top five list (in no particular order) of the occupations where truth-stretching is mandatory:

1. Mechanics
2. Politicians
3. Advertisers
4. Lawyers
5. Strippers

movers and shakers

The spindle has been touched, the apple has been bitten, I will now enter the deep sleep known as adult responsibility and employment. Two hours after I got back from my interview I got a phone call from the human resources person offering me the job. The pay is almost exactly what I expected, the terms I did not expect. I have to become board certified within a year...I guess that means I'll be looking for a new line of work in a year because I barely would have passed that shit right out of school...now ten years and multiple substances of abuse later, fuggedaboudit. I only have one more hurdle to pass before the job officially becomes mine.

tepid

I did really well at my interview today, it took an hour and a half which is generally a good sign. She asked me how soon I could start (I gave myself an extra two weeks of "extended vacation") and told me I would probably hear from them by the end of the week or early next week. Looks like all signs point to yes on my being employed. But I'm not really sure if I want the job. It's in a basement and frankly I have had more than my fair share of working in dungeons. The job is FAR, really really far away and the traffic is shit...I would lose countless hours of my life on a daily basis or I can move and pay way too much for a slummed out apartment. The place is kind of grungy, like ebola could be living on half of the counters. The supervisor is far too excited about the place which worries me...while all the cheerleading? None of the employees looked happy, they all had that dead eyed, tired look. But then again this is my only job prospect. The hours are good, I'm sure the pay will be okay. It wouldn't be a bad thing to live closer to Seattle, especially if I actually do go back to school next year. I just feel so lukewarm about it all, nothing about it really excites me.

signs, signs, everywhere a sign

I walk by this church almost every day and they change their signs weekly. Usually it's the boring, same old "Salvation found here." I just don't know how to feel about this one though...it's corny but has a bit of irreverence at the same time. But I'll be really impressed if they put a sign up that says something like, "One way ticket to heaven or your money back. Free tupperware gift with first saving."

to be or not to be

I've been thinking about mistakes lately. Mistakes I've made, mistakes I've avoided, how most of my mistakes have a trend based on my complete inability to maintain committments in my life. I self-analyze until I become self-aware enough to loathe myself...but then that's where I stop. I don't actually try and fix the things that are the roots of most of my issues. So is it worse to be completely unaware of why you do the things you do or worse to know why you do them and not do anything about it? I used to think it was worse to not know but now I'm starting to think that it's worse to know and not care enough to change it.

the horror!

SOB! I am in the throes of one of the worst crises of my young life...a bad haircut. I had wanted to find a salon that could rival the amazing powers of my old stylist back in Louisville, but then I let my mom convince me to go to one of her friends. I knew it wasn't a great idea, my wavy hair is hard to cut and I have a million and three cowlicks...a lot different that her mostly ajima clientele. But NEVER would I have guessed that I would end up looking like a harajuku kid who had just walked away the loser in an epic battle with a Flowbee. I need help, I am now collecting donations to find a master stylist with amazing rehabilitative powers, please send money to:

LisaM.
c/o Society for the Elimination of Hair Don'ts
3rd Pit of Hell Ave SE
Hell, WA 66666.

whoah

Though most people reserve their debauchery for Friday and Saturday nights, Thursday has become my fun night because it's the only night that my sister and her guy have off...so that's when everybody gets together. We went out last night to this place in Tacoma called The Loft. Now for those of you out of the Washington loop, Tacoma is considered the ugly bastard spawn of Seattle...we're considered utterly ghetto and totally not fabulous. But I guess The Loft is trying to have that little bit of Seattle sophistication, there's a dress code and they don't serve their drinks in plastic cups...but I'm digressing. So last night I got tee-rashed...and it was a good drunk because I was a friendly drunk and not the angry drunk I can sometimes be. I was walking around, giving people compliments because in my drunken stupors I try to up my karma by being ridiculously nice to strangers. I go to the bar and this really pretty girl starts chatting with me and then these Mexican sailors start talking to us. And somehow she and I both end up wearing their hats and this little little man in his white uniform starts dancing up on me like a rabid chihuahua humping somebody's leg...very not cool. So a guy I know comes up because he wants to chat up this girl I've met and I'm begging him, "Save me from the little man." He puts a protective arm over my shoulder, that arm that lays claim to somebody, and thankfully the little man got the hint and went away. But the girl thinks he and I are together, so we have to set her straight because at this point the guy is jonesing for her like a recovering heroin addict joneses for a Hershey's bar. Then the three of us go dance, and wow this girl is freaky....and I'm not easily impressed, so that's saying a lot. Then she goes potty and I go back to the bar, where the guy I had crushed on for a minute was standing and he gets me a drink as it's last call...which in and of itself was surprising because he usually avoids me like I'm some lecherous hag. Then the girl walks back up and I make him get her a drink too, then I introduce them and the girl is beautiful so I quickly become background noise to the two of them...cut to fifteen minutes later and they're playing one serious game of tonsil hockey as if their tongues are searching for some hidden treasure in the back of each other's throats. And strangely she had a camera, so now she has oodles of pictures of us. Thursday night madness...who knew?

about time

FINALLY! I have a job interview on Wednesday...yay for me! Too bad the job is hellaciously far from where I'm staying. Wish me luck!

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

danger, watch yourself

See, even road signs are giving me reasons not to break my vow of chastity.

price check

I went out with my sister, her...uh....the guy she lives with, and a bunch of their friends. It was pretty cool and honestly, I thought I could party pretty hard but going out with them made me realize that I'm just an amateur...either that or I've mellowed out with age. So there was a pretty large contingent of guys there and each and every one of them clearly considered themselves THE gift from god. But seriously, only one of them was worth anything and it only totaled about the price of an Easter basket.

masticator

I swear to god, I have eaten more rice in the last week than I probably ate all of last year. And apparently Iniki likes kim/nori/dried seaweed. Coincidentally, since he's been eating it, his poop is a lot easier to clean up.

surreal life

Just got back from a barbecue at my brother's house. You know, I thought I had seen a lot and thought I had some strange friends, BUT THIS TAKES THE CAKE! My sister-in-law had a friend and her husband over as well as me and some guy I knew when I was just a wee thing. Apparently they just got a new laptop and enjoy looking at sites like ratemythong.com and ratemycock.com (no lie, these REALLY exist). It also seems that the wife desperately wanted to put her husband's weenie up on desperateforapproval.com. So part of the night they were trying to take a digital picture of a Polaroid they have of him lounging around all Sylvester Stallone circa Playgirl spread. When that didn't work out, he started taking actual pictures of his penis with the digital camera. First, he went to the bathroom, I guess he wanted to be discreet. But when that proved too taxing, he full on whipped it out at the dining room table. Lucky for me, I was across the table from him and there was thankfully a very big bag of tortilla chips blocking my view...but I guess my sister-in-law saw it. I can only presume that he didn't like the lighting from the dining room, so he went outside on the deck and started snapping away. Every three to four minutes you would see a flash go off outside; and this went on for a good twenty minutes. Can you imagine?

frightening and sad

I found out today that a person I used to work with in Hawaii, actually the person that took over my job when I left, died recently. She was only 37 years old.

stop. thief.

Never one to shy away from stealing other people's ideas when I have none of my own...

Top Ten Brands You Cannot Live Without:

1. Coke-it's the real thing AND Diet Coke has that Adrien Brody commercial I love.
2. HBO-without this little slice of television heaven, I wouldn't have anything to watch, especially since America's Next Top Model is finished.
3. Apple-iPods, iTunes...my credit card has never been the same.
4. General Foods International Coffees-two words: Chai, Latte. Nuff said.
5. Fendi-the few sunglasses that fit and flatter my ginormous head.
6. Ambien-every once in a while, you need a good night's sleep.
7. MAC-for my fabulous inner transvestite.
8. Lancome-the reason I still look 24, or at least the reason my friends lie to me about looking 24.
9. Target-cause I love cheap, any store with a dollar spot is all right by me.
10. McDonald's-french fries are the food of the gods.

kentucky v. washington

METRO LOUISVILLE

*Catfish
*The frying of every conceivable vegetable and meat known to man
*Lots of F350s on the road
*Thornton's and Speedway
*People with money buy horses
*Ohio River Bridges
*Tornadoes
*Everybody vacations by taking a cruise
*Azaleas and oak trees (which means a shitload of raking)
*College basketball
*Fourth Street Live
*Trailer girls vying for their Jerry Springer appearance
*Germantown
*Co-workers that annoyingly mother you to death
*Allergies that cause headaches and snotty noses
*Bad hair from excessive humidity
*Starbucks


GREATER SEATTLE AREA

*Salmon
*Teriyaki sauce on every conceivable vegetable, meat, and meat-substitute product known to man
*Lots of Hummers on the road
*ampm and 7-11
*People with money buy boats
*Narrows Bridge (formery known as Galloping Gertie)
*Earthquakes
*Everybody vacations by camping and hiking
*Rhododendrons and evergreens
*Mariners baseball
*Pioneer Square
*Ghetto girls vying for their Jerry Springer appearance
*Koreatown
*Mothers that annoyingly work you to death
*Allergies that cause itchy eyes and coaster sized boogers
*Bad hair from excessive rain
*Starbucks

the thing about parents...

is that they think their children are deaf, either that or profoundly and severely retarded. Do they REALLY think we can't hear them talking about us from fifteen feet away? And worse yet, if your parent speaks another language. You KNOW they're talking about you, but you don't know what they're saying...AND chances are pretty damn good that they're talking shit. I'm pretty sure that in the minds of parents, we are perpetually eleven years old.

say wha?

Remind me not to blog while high on pharmaceuticals. And in other news, I think I made a big mistake...tigers can't change their stripes, leopards can't change their spots, going full circle means you end up nowhere.

s.o.s.

Somebody help me, I've obviously fallen into a vacuum of infantilism...why else would I be forcing myself into the womb I tried so hard to escape? All of the days journeys involved fighting, and you would think that I would know that the right answer is clearly and obviously her answer and equally as clearly I would recognize that my solutions are the rantings of a obviously insane woman who somehow managed to make it ten years without self-imploding, but now that I'm back in the web, I've regressed to a fourteen year old. Wow, I took two Ambien and there is a lot of weirdness going on right now. There seems to be some short of light show behind my monitor, a party I'm not privy to, though I would love to attend. And the crazy lizard fingers are back, tap tap typing away with their leathery beaks, hoping for some later reward...maybe food, maybe lotion, maybe weapons they could learn to use and take over the ambien induced mother may I that they don't even get to play. I don't know where I am right now, I'm lost amongst a shitload of familiarity. And there seems to be a green and ocre color taking over my screen right about now and they're blowing hot air on me. I think this might be the takeover. Please send help...but not until after 8 hours of sleep that the Ambien is going to provide.

collector

I don't know if it's because she grew up right after a war that literally divided her homeland and lacked a lot of material things, but damn my mother is OBSESSED with toilet paper. She literally has HUNDREDS of rolls of toilet paper, every time I open a closet or a cabinet, it is stuffed to the gills with rolls and rolls of tp. We are already a family of pack-rats but I'm worried, this toilet paper thing is a little extreme. And the paper towels, dear god the paper towels. She doesn't ever use them, she gets pissy when somebody else does, but she hoards them like they're some invaluable commodity. I'm a little freaked out...why does any one person need so many paper products?

oscar worthy

While at my dad's place in Salt Lake City, he shared his completely legal collection of burned movies with my sister and myself. We went apeshit because my dad records the kinds of movies that we love...you know the D-list, straight to video, 80s cheddar kind of flicks that nobody else has ever heard of...in fact we literally fought over a couple of them. So here's my list of movies that I have loved that nobody else has heard of, except for my sister of course.

o Gotcha
o Gimme an F
o Fast Forward
o Night of the Comet
o Sleepaway Camp Part II

travel wrap-up

Total Miles Driven: 2,600
Total Coffee Consumed: 4.3 liters
Total Calories of Truck Stop Food Eaten: 18,243
Total Times I Punched My Sister: Only 2
Total Times I Said Mean Things: 93
Hours Before My Mom Reminded Me I Was Fat: 9 (I thought I'd get at least a 24 hour reprieve)
Hours Before Her Friends Started Asking Me How Much I Weighed: 18
Hours I Went Before Calling Cable Company to Set Up Internet Service: 12
Hours of Continuous Rain Since Hitting the Pacific Northwest: 56
Hours I've Been Here: 59
Total Number of Hail Storms: 2
Number of Valium I Saved for Myself Instead of Giving to Iniki: 12

travels with iniki - part II - cont

Finally in washington the weather sucks. Somebody remind me why I came back?

travels with iniki - part II - cont

I have needed my windshield wipers from the very nanosecond I drove into the Pacific Northwest. Fucking rain!

travels with iniki - part II - cont

Don't ever take a roadtrip with your freeloading sister. You end up eating beef jerky and drinking gas station coffee out of sheer stubborness because you don't want to pony up for real food for everybody.

travels with iniki - part II - cont

2000 miles driven and my car officially smells like a rank armpit.

travels with iniki - part II

Getting ready to leave my dad's and Salt Lake, which is one seriously beautiful city. And I swear to god, there are NO FAT PEOPLE here, not even at the Walmart....I'm like a one woman club out here. So it should take us about thirteen hours or so to reach out destination point. I'm pretty sure I will have found an airport to drop my sister off at and a pound for my dog. That much time together in an enclosed space is never a good thing...which is weird, I used to really enjoy road trips. Is it bad that I'm already planning my next move and I haven't even gotten up to the Pacific Northwest yet? I'm trying to be positive so I don't do the whole self-fulfilling prophecy thing but DAYAM, being around my family is best in small increments of time when I live at least 800 miles away.

travels with iniki - cont

Well it is late and my ass is killing me from sitting on it for more hours than I can count, I guess that is one fantasy best left unfufilled. After about 1500 miles of solid driving, we are at my dad's place in Salt Lake City. This is the cleanest town I've ever been in, I have yet to see a homeless person. I am going to sleep the sleep of the dead tonight. After I wash the grime off of my body, I am taking a sleeping pill and I might even snake one of my dog's Valium and polish it off with a couple of shots of vodka just to make sure that even a church full of Mormon missionaries at the doorstep won't rouse me in the slightest.

travels with iniki - cont

Utah is a lot like a crazy aunt's house, full of pretty things but devoid of life and kind of creepy.

travels with iniki - cont

If my dog had as much gas as he is getting blamed for, he would float away like a helium balloon.

travels with iniki - cont

tThere is the most amazing heat lightning storm going on right now.

travels with iniki - cont.

Operation cheese overload was mildly successful. I made it 1300 miles before needing to actually sit on a toilet seat.

travels with iniki - cont.

For the love of god! Kansas is the longest, flattest state ever! Kind of like my ass.

travels with iniki - the beginning

400 plus miles and I'm sitting in some reststop somewhere in either Missouri or Kansas, listening to my dad and sister snore while fre...
(I guess you can only blog one page of cell text at a time, so to finish up this thought...)
freezing my ass off and staring at all the creepy people going in and out of the bathrooms.

matriculator

Yay for me, I graduated today. We had the whole hand-shaking and hugging, tassel flipping, robe wearing ceremony. It took forever! Three long hours of speeches, most of which was from one seriously long-winded woman who went on and on about some old coin and some Latin phrase, though I was busy cleaning underneath my fingernails so I didn't catch most of it. There was cheering and clapping and surprisingly I didn't shed a single tear. So I guess that's one goal out of the way...now on to getting my PhD before I turn forty. I've decided to be a career student because I loathe the idea of having a real job after shamming for the last three years.PS-I'll be sans internet connection for a while, so if I don't get around to being a hyper-nerd and blogging via cell, well the next time you hear from me, I'll be a wanna-be Seattlite again.

apples and oranges

My dad and sister are here for the wildly exciting graduation and moving extravaganza. Last night we were up watching television as we are a family of night owls and we stumbled across a movie that Sofie and I watched every day for a month when we were younger, Calamity Jane. Man, the Doris Day version is way different than Deadwood. You know, I should hate that movie...it's racist and sexist and cheesy as hell...but it's just one of those movies that you inexplicably and unconditionally love, like Grease 2 or Teen Wolf.

seriously meriously

Look, I don't know how many times I have to say this:THERE ARE NO BALLS ON THIS SITE! (okay maybe one picture, but it was in a specific context and you'll never find it. It's buried deep in the archives, and it's hidden...so fuck off with your testicular searches)THERE ARE ALSO NO PICTURES OF NAKED GIRLS, NO NAKED DARK MAGICIAN GIRLS, NO NAKED GIRLS FROM THE DERBY, NO GIRLS!So for the love of <-insert divine creator of choice here->, stop coming here. Sure for a while I found it amusing and honestly I liked the fact that my page visits were way up. BUT NOW, I'm starting to feel a little dirty, like I'm pimping my baby out for some lousy three second hits. Seriously, listen to me here, you're in the wrong place...no balls, no girls.

ha ha

I figured out how to blog from my cell...a big accomplishment for the likes of me. Just when you thought you would get some sort of reprieve while I was moving.

131

I have officially done all there is to do in Louisville. I went to the 131st Kentucky Derby today. If I had to describe the Derby in five words:

o Hot
o Drunkenness
o Boobies
o Crowded
o Expensive

Below are some pictures I took to capture the experience.

Here we were, walking through the tunnels to the infield...home of the poor, drunk, huddled masses yearning to be in box seats.

This was one hell of a crowd. It was apparently the second largest crowd ever.

The fabled spires/turrets/steeples of Churchill Downs. PS-as a bonus you get to see a guy with his shirt open and his glorious salt-n-pepper chest hairs on full display.

This was where I made my bets....my shitty, unlucky bets. Although I did find ten bucks on the ground when I went to buy the $3.00 bottles of water. So since Katie bought my ticket, I only bet $5.00, I paid $10.00 to park and ride at the fairgrounds, and I only bought one bottle of water...my total tab for the day was only $8.00.

Fashions were...ummm. interesting.

I knew that preppy came back in style, but whenever I see stuff this logoed, it totally makes me think of an old Judd Nelson movie Making the Grade.

Oh hey, you might want to see a horse too. You gotta love drunk people...they love to pose for pictures. Too bad it ended up on the internet asshole.

This was our little corner of the infield, marked by the pirate flag. We were also next door to the little makeshift detaining facility so we were surrounded by cops (military and civilian).

How many cops does it take to arrest one half drunk and probably half-baked guy who probably weighed about 135 pounds? All of them. You can see the arrested guy, he's the splash of red in the background. It was quite the hubbub, this picture is after it all calmed down. Katie suggested that we all start screaming "Police Brutality," like in Hairspray.

Okay, so how many cops does it take to switch out taking pictures of half naked girls and share them with one another? Just two. So much for the sanctity of the uniform.

This is what it looks to win and win large. I however didn't win shit, the horse I chose didn't even show.

Here we are leaving through the same tunnel we entered through. However, notice how freaking crowded it is now. We were squeezed in there so fucking tight, I couldn't guarantee that I didn't walk out of there impregnated.

cell phone vampire

HOLY SHIT! I owe my cell phone company over $200.00. I guess I went over my minutes. By A LOT! Dammit, with moving companies and moving supplies, the lack of fundage from going to school, and almost being out of a job, I am bled dry. So go ahead T-Mobile, try to suck a few more drops out of me...all you'll get is dust.

that guy?

I confess, right up front, that I am totally bogarting this idea (with her permission because her wrath is swift and mighty) from Avatar over at Overworked & Underf*cked. She recently did a post about guys that she was inexplicably attracted to, despite the fact that were not Johnny Depp or Viggo Mortonsen. So here's my list of "HUH?!" guys.

Adrian Brody, especially in that Diet Coke commerial
Billy Joe from Greenday
Ewan McGregor-okay, maybe he's not such a stretch
Jason Schwartzman from Rushmore & I Heart Huckabees
Jon Stewart of The Daily Show
Sam Rockwell, even though he kind of reminds me of some creepy guy who would hang out at a Junior High School
Brandon Flowers from The Killers.

Unlike Avatar, who has a thing for average English blokes, I've got a thing for guys who either wear eyeliner or for smart 'n funny Jewish Guys, god help me if they're both.

So what guys/girls do you find strangely compelling?

it's like ray-yay-yain on your wedding day

Something struck me today while I was getting my hair done. There I was, sitting in one of the higher-end salons in Louisville, having a complimentary hand massage by one woman and sipping my bottled water while another woman did my highlights. During all of this primping and pampering, I was reading Diary, who also wrote Fight Club, one of my favorite books and movies. The sheer hypocrisy and irony of doing both at the same time wasn't lost on me. But aren't we all at least just the tinest bit hypocritical? Is it in our nature to believe one way and act another? Are we just constantly fighting some inner battle between our belief systems versus societal systems? Or do we just pretend to have certain beliefs in order to make ourselves feel better about the things we do? Well I don't know the answer to those questions, but I can tell you this...my hair is way cute.

last call

I called in sick for the last time (at this current job at any rate). I felt poopie because my womyn parts are staging some sort of coup, I think my uterus has some grandiose plans to become dictator of my torso region...but my digestive tract doesn't seem to be taking this threat to its usual dominance lightly. Thank god for the massive cocktail of motrin, aleve, and Tylenol PM.

oh the humanity

I sold my dining room set and the buyers just came and picked it up. You know what, I'm a wee-bit sad about it and it's stupid to be having an emotional reaction because it's just stuff for god's sake. I can't believe I actually formed an attachment to a few slabs of wood and glass, that's pretty sad huh? Especially since it really isn't something to get worked up over like an awesome record collection or something passed down five generations that a family snuck in from the old country. Oh well, just more evidence that my former life as LDML is indeed over.

yard sale hell

Begin rant.
I had a yard sale today because I needed to unload some of my shit for the move...I hate yard sales. More specifically I fucking hate people at yard sales. What exactly is this compulsion to barter an already ridiculously cheap price, does that extra fifty cents REALLY make the difference between a shitty deal and a good deal? I just want to scream, "Just pay the three fucking dollars or go buy it for full price," not that they would ever venture beyond the Walmart and dollar stores. If they need that money so badly, don't fucking spend it. Better yet, maybe if they stopped smoking a carton a day, a fairly accurate estimate judging by the reek of stale tobacco, they would be able to afford the fifty cent price tags.
What's more, what's the fucking point of stealing from a yard sale? Do they think it's somehow okay to steal from a person rather than stealing from a store? Do people think they aren't going to burn in the fiery pits of whatever hell they believe in because they stole the fake pearls that cost a few bucks from me instead of some department store? Do they honestly think that they are some big fucking deal, that they really got one over because they took what basically amounts to my garbage? I hope they enjoy their ill-gotten gains because I know that cosmic retribution is a motherfucker. As they fondle their costume jewelry and rub one out to their newly "acquired" copy of Legally Blonde 2, the cancer cells are slowly starting to multiply in that reeking pile of malaria-induced, black-tar diarrhea they call a body. Fucking assholes. This is just another fucking drop in the bucket of the misery known as moving. I'm almost considering arson-for-hire just to simplify things.
End rant.
PS-Yeah, I realize that generalizations are wrong but I needed to vent dammit.

if ever i needed proof...

that I am certifiably a nerd/dork/geek all rolled into one, I have found numerous pieces of evidence while ransacking my house in preparation for the dreaded yard sale. Not only did I find the pins for my annual stint on the Steilacoom High School Math Team, but I also found photographic evidence of my utter and total lack of cool. I found the picture of me and the rest of the JV Badminton squad of the League Champion Redlands High School Badminton Team AND I found the scrapbook I made commerorating our awesome season. I dare anybody to try and out high school-geek me now.

bittersweet symphony

I just finished the very last test of the very last class of my undergraduate college career. I'm not sure how to feel. While part of me is glad that I stuck with it and accomplished my goal of finishing my degree before I hit the big trigenerean years, the other part of me wonders what the hell I'm supposed to do now. You see, I did it all in reverse: left home, had a multitude of jobs, did the family thing, and then went to college. So all the things that newly metriculating students look forward to, leaving home, starting a career and family...been there, done that, have the psychotropic medications to prove it. It feels good to set a goal and follow through though. YAY for me!!! Now I can have time for the important things like watching my 21 Jumpstreet and Family Guy dvds while eating Karamel Sutra ben & jerry's ice cream in my pajamas.

i eat my feelings

A lot of drug addicts turn to food while they're recovering, that's why all the stars get all chunky (which in Hollywood speak means a size 8) after kicking the junk. I however probably need to turn to drugs to help me escape my food addictions. I have eaten at Panera Bread the last five days in a row. I was hoping to make it six in a row, which I think might be just a tad obsessive compulsive, but dammit their half-sandwich/bowl of soup combination has been perfect for the craptastic weather we've been having here lately. I swear, the day after I decide that I am finally going to turn on my air conditioning, the temperature drops to 50 degrees. What the hell is wrong with this place? Pick a season already. Anyhoo, regarding the whole Panera Bread thing, luckily Katie pulled an intervention and we're having Indian tomorrow...garlic naan here I come.

scary

Last night we attempted to go out to dinner and because we're sort of poor and didn't want to go too far from home, we opted to dine at the Olive Garden. So we get there and the weather is turning to crap. We check in and there's a twenty minute wait. While waiting there seems to be some sort of commotion going on outside, people are just going out to the awning in hordes. We look outside and the clouds are SCARY, they're hanging really low in the sky and have that deep dark gray color. Then people start getting paranoid and point out funnel clouds here and there, and honestly I started to get into the whole groupthink paranoia because I started to see funnel clouds and hear sirens going off in my own head. Some crazy woman runs up and screams, "Everybody go inside, there's a tornado, I just heard it on the radio." And we don't because she's a crazy, over-dramatic, control freak and that was readily apparent. But things just keep looking worse and worse and we decide that there is no way we are dying at an Olive Garden, no way we are dying with the people at the Olive Garden. If my ghost has to haunt the place I died until the end of all time as we know it, it sure as shit isn't going to be at the Olive Garden...because looking at breadsticks for the rest of my after-life would make me a very angry ghost. So we went through a drive-thru, came home and watched Spanglish...and there wasn't a tornado the whole night.

googlers

I love seeing the stuff people google and somehow end up here.
Here are some of my faves:
o Wouldn't you know...I am in the top 10, sometimes the top 5, list of sites for "Low Hanging Balls." And I've noticed most of these searches come from the UK. I don't know what's going on with this obsession with dangly sacks, but it has definitely got my attention.
o Today there was "Napoleon tigon totally smell like poo." Pretty specific search.
o "British euphamisms for a man's penis." Interesting...considering the obsession with balls, I would say there are probably a lot.
o "Noassatall syndrome." Honey, you've come to the right place, not only am I the founder but I'm a customer too.
o "Naked dark magician girl and other funny stuff." Are naked dark magician girls funny? Who knew? Are they funnier than clothed dark magician girls?
o "Unrealistic expecations of people." Well you obviously have them if you expected to find the answers in all of this shitty rambling.

bulking up

Now that I'm close to moving I feel like I need to eat the food I have in the house instead of going out to buy new groceries. This is definitely not a good thing. Whatever possessed me to buy that 20 pack of Rice-a-Roni at Sam's Club along with the bulk canned tuna is beyond me now. By the time I leave here I'll be so full of preservatives that I'll never rot after I die. They'll find my mummified corpse hundreds of years from now and probably think that my body is representative of all humans for this time.