hard headed

Crap, I have a HUGE headache. Yesterday I helped Bobby move. As we were putting stuff into the trunk of my car, SOMEHOW the trunk managed to slam down on my poor unsuspecting head. And the best part, the latch almost created some kind of brain shish-kebab since it practically impaled my cranium. I don't know what it is about my head but shit like this happens all the time and always when somebody else is around to witness my klutzy humiliation. I am convinced that it isn't the brain-cell mass murder I commit with the drinking et. al. that has left me with no memory and poor motor skills...no it is constant shaken-brain syndrome. I am two headbutts away from needing a bib to catch my drool.

fright night

Last weekend I saw the movie Constantine. I'm pretty sure I've seen it before, it was called The Devil's Advocate or was it The Prophecy? At any rate, this movie was a total supermodel movie...visually pleasing but mostly it was best when everybody just stood around looking moody and brooding because the talkie portion, not the highlight of the film. Anyway, back to the topic at hand, that night I made Katie sleep over because I am a wuss-baby with a hyperactive imagination, and anything even resembling a scary movie or even a psychological thriller makes me stay up late at night watching shadows in the corners and avoiding looking into anything that produces a reflection. So this is definitely a downside to living alone because though I creep myself out way too much, I LOVE to watch scary movies. I've bought two or three scary movies, most of them Asian originals to Hollywood copycats, and I've yet to watch them. Well I guess I can always just sleep with the lights on, but I don't think Iniki will like that very much.

fingers crossed

Katie and I decided that it was IMPERATIVE that we get the hell out of dodge for a little vacation before school ended. So hopefully if everything works out, we're heading down to Nehowrlins for spring break. Color me excited, I've never been there and though I don't plan on indulging in the Girls Gone Wild version of spring break, I think it'll still be a lot of fun. Plus, my dad's ladyfriend is hooking us up with an awesome deal so it'll be pretty cheap (relatively speaking of course) and that just means more drinkin' money. Wow, I haven't been on a real vacation in about ten years. Mostly it's been more like taking time off work and visiting the family and wondering why I'm not on a real vacation. Not that I don't like spending time with my family but who has ever had to mow lawns and vacuum to earn spa treatments while on vacation? Seriously? Nobody! Unless you're "vacationing" at your mother's house.

cah-ray-zee

So many weird goings-on today, I don't even know where to start.
o I had such a shit day at work today. I'm pretty sure it's because some people have a different sense of urgency than I do. Some people like to work at the pace of a Wal-mart greeter and other people (like myself) would like to fucking kill them.
o Anybody who believes that women cannot make it in the business world because they aren't cutthroat enough just needs to come work with me. The machinations of the female-type supervisors and managers are extraordinary. I'm often torn as to whether I should hate them for being a bunch of calculating back-stabbers or be impressed by it.
o I have some bad mojo with southern Louisville. Today on my way to school I'm driving down the street and stop at a red light and then I hear a horn blaring. So I look over and there is a car in front of an SUV and then another SUV behind it. The car in front and the SUV in back are crooked and really close to the middle car so I knew something was weird. THEN cops rush out of the first and third vehicles with their guns drawn and start shouting at the driver of the middle car. OH it was TENSE and even though there was a strong possibility for a shoot-out, I couldn't tear myself away. I totally rubbernecked, and for quite a while because for some reason the lights wouldn't change.
o I read some really bad news at work today, terrible news even. Apparently drinking and smoking marijuana can increase your risk of stroke, even at a young age. So I've learned my lesson, gotta cut out the drinking. Teehee.

uninspired

For some reason I have nothing to say lately. And I think this disease has infected a ton of the sites I view regularly. So I'll just leave you with these words of wisdom, courtesy of the Museum of Bourbon in Bardstown, Kentucky.

oh so mysterious

Last night Katie and I were at a dinner party. We're sitting around talking about movies that we find hilarious and naturally Napoleon Dynamite comes up because it's just so stupid that it's funny. So one of the guys starts talking about how there REALLY REALLY are ligers in real life. He SWORE he saw it on CNN. We teased him mercilessly, we mocked him, we questioned his sanity and his sobriety, we just refused to believe something so ridiculous. Naturally, my curiosity got the better of me and I checked it out. Whoops, guess they really do exist along with their smaller siblings the tigon. So does this mean I have to build a cake or somesing to apologize or pretend I never found out about any of this?

quitter

I haven't mentioned this before because I didn't want to be the boy who cried wolf since I've said I was quitting like two-three other times and quitting didn't last more than like three days. BUT, today is like the third or fourth week since I've smoked. AND if I manage to not jinx myself by bragging about it...I might actually have officially quit smoking cigarettes.
PS-if you're thinking about quitting, these nicotrol puffer things....GEEERRROOOOSSSSS! I'd rather smoke a turd

moving on up

One of the recurring themes here is how much I hate getting older. From what all the middle-aged folk at work tell me, turning thirty is the hardest birthday milestone and the imminence of my 30th year is haunting me. I mean before thirty, life seems great and full of new adventures. Up until thirty you have all these great things to look forward to:
o Turn sixteen-YAY you can drive. The first sign of independence.
o Turn eighteen-YAY you're an adult AND if you're so inclined (which shamefully most people aren't) you can vote. You can also buy cigarettes and get into NC-17 movies.
o Turn twenty-one-YAY you can do a lot of things now and most of them involve vices. You can drink, you can gamble, you can go to strip-clubs AND drink, the possibilities at twenty-one seem endless.
o Turn twenty-five-YAY your insurance premiums go down and somehow people start acting as if you're more mature even though you know that you still drink too much and still suffer through some horrifying displays of drunkenness. There's also the extremely exciting possibility that you'll still get carded, maybe even for cigarettes, and each and every time you think to yourself that you're just as youthful as you were four years ago.

But after twenty-five, birthday milestones are nothing to look forward to.
o Turn thirty-BOO, your youth has slowly slipped away, like some pathetic cliche of holding sand in the palm of your hand. Do you still pretend to be the young stallion of yesteryear or do you fully immerse yourself in responsible adult life, throwing dinner parties and going to cocktail hours while still longing for the all-consuming fun you had when you were twenty-one...when you truly didn't give a rat's ass about the impression you were giving total strangers, when you didn't start playing the what-if game because the truth of your mortality became evident somewhere around twenty-six when you threw out your back playing a pick-up game and all of the sudden words like good fiber, bad cholesterol, retirement accounts start to have meaning.
o Turn forty-BOO, you have been slapped square in the face with middle age. Now you get to say things like "Forty is the new thirty" and at some point start thinking of the very real possibilities of hot flashes and hormone replacement therapy. Not only that but forty is the turning point for tortuous medical procedures. Women get to look forward to boob-squishing mammograms, men get to look forward to prostate exams. The fun just doesn't stop.
o Turn fifty-BOO, fuck you're FIFTY. Now the panic sets in, you're paying for the kids college and debt is positively seeping out of each and every pore, you've realized that you didn't start saving for retirement soon enough, there's always the very real possibility you'll be laid off at work and you'll never be able to compete with those twenty- something whippersnappers. Maybe, just maybe, you'll become a grandparent and even though you act excited around your friends and co-workers, you secretly cry in the shower because you never thought your life would end up like this and now you're too old to fix it.
o Turn sixty-BOO, you're sixty. Well at this point you're so old you HAVE to start looking at the up-side to everything. You can retire soon and now you qualify for the senior special at Denny's and you get to say pretty much whatever the fuck you want to say because for some reason people love sassy geriatrics.
Of course this is just how it looks like from twenty-nine. I'm sure at thirty-nine I'll have a whole new perspective.

v-d

Happy Greeting Card and Confectionary Corporation Marketing Genius Day. Happy "I get to take you for granted every other day of the year but TODAY you're special" Day. Happy "Thanks for making me bitter and more lonely than usual" Day. Happy "Great, another way of making me feel inept, guess I'll just get another toaster" Day. Happy "Like we need another excuse to gorge ourselves on chocolate" Day. Happy Valentine's Day.

mystery machine

Hey, did I tell you that I figured out which neighbor has the CB? I figured it out because I am a GENIUS. I mean it would take an astounding level of geniosity to realize that the house with the fifty foot high antenna is probably the house with the CB radio. You probably think I'm exagerrating about the fifty feet, but alas I'm not...in fact it very well could be like 75 feet, I don't have a very good perception for lengths/distances. So let's see...hmmmmmm...big long antenna attached to the side of your house = radio antenna = CB radio antenna...gawd I'm smarter than Velma from Scooby Doo. Of course, it should have been a dead giveaway from the start...what with the fact that they have no living grass on their lawn because they usually have five cars parked out front, only two of which run at any given point in time. That and they have this wood paneling on the outside of their house...in my Sims game they refer to it as ramshackle clapboard or something of that ilk. Plus, considering the one-sided conversations I've picked up through my speakers...I really should have known it would be THAT house. I guess that actually makes me pretty fucking dumb for taking this long to figure it out.

no dumping

Am I the only person that finds the fact that my dog pooed right by this sign incredibly funny?

things i have been wrong about

o The dreaded poli-sci class...the Professor does know who I am. He called me by name yesterday evening. I was dumbfounded and lost my train of thought and then ended up looking really stupid (not a terribly difficult task I realize, but it happened nonetheless).
o The idea that when you pass gas around somebody, they will consider it a sign that you are comfortable around them and appreciate the gesture.
o The notion that things will improve when I move to a new place and "start fresh" somewhere.
o That if I really put my mind to it, I can accomplish just about anything.
o If I wear enough glittery make-up, people will think I'm younger than I actually am.
o Honestly really is the best policy.
o I'm not domineering, controlling, and anal-retentive with indications of a mild obsessive-compulsive disorder, it REALLY is just natural leadership skills.
o The order of "old sayings"...apparently you're not ever supposed to be a dollar short and a day late. I blame my mother for this because she says them wrong and that's how I learned them. Her favorite expression..."Hold your horse puckey."
o If you blow into your cupped hand and then move your hand quickly to your nose, you can smell your own breath.

mousecapades

I got this in the mail yesterday. It's a card from B., just his way of making sure I don't forget about my fine rodent roommates and neighbors. Too funny. But this card made me have the WEIRDEST dreams last night. I dreamt that my kitchen was again riddled with mice, except this time they weren't sneaky, fit-in-the-palm-of-your-hand rodents. NOOOO, they were the size of chihuahuas. And apparently the girl mice wore red aprons, too much Leave It to Beaver I guess. So I tried to knock them unconscious by hitting them with a box of Corn Pops, but they weren't ordinary mice, not only did they wear clothes and were obviously the result of nuclear testing, but they were like Mighty Mouse and would fly on top of the refrigerator and elude me. Finally, I just opened the front door and they walked out and ran into the Gollum neighbor's yard. They'd like it better there anyway, in real life she tries to create a kind of Vermin Wild Kingdom in her house. She's even let possums come in out of the cold, ewwwwwwwwwww.

paranoid android

Once upon a time I went to a therapist. He made me fill out this questionnaire that somehow deduced what kind of crazy you suffer from. Part of it involved questions that pretty much asked whether or not you were paranoid. As it turns out, I am a little paranoid. Not like super crazy paranoid where I think that the CIA/FBI/NSA are tracing my every move because my mother is a super secret-spy who put a microchip with the plans for the world's deadliest weapon in my skull when I was a baby and the real reason we moved a lot was because the KGB was always plotting to kidnap me and steal my precious secret by cutting open my head and sucking the chip out with a red and yellow striped straw they kept from a McDonalds strawberry milkshake when they were sent to Kansas to train to be the ultimate midwesterner and somehow all of this is why my life sucks. No, instead I'm just mildly paranoid, and mostly in a self-serving way to make myself feel important. For example (thas right...all in bullets):
o I'm not doing very well in my poli-sci class. In fact, I am doing worse in this class than I have done in my entire college career. Today we got back an assignment and my grade totally sucked some stinky ass. But then I noticed that the girl who sits next to me, well her original grade sucked way worse than mine. BUT the professor bumped her grade up to a perfect score (because the original grade is from his grad-student TA). I got no bump, I got just my plain old shitty grade. Immediately I assumed it was because he must not like me. But then I remembered that he doesn't even know who I am, he can't put name and face together. So then I figured out that he doesn't hate ME, he hates my NAME. Something about the way the four-letters are strung together to make my first name, and the fact that my last name is NOT spelled the way people think it should be....I'm convinced, he's lowering my scores because he hates my name...damn you moniker. (and yes I know that this is like a scene in The Jerk)
o I'm also convinced that I am being baited by somebody. And because I'm being baited, I assume it's because this person looks down on me. AND even worse is talking shit about me. Definitely a "K" moment.
o I think my computer is haunted by some paranormal entity that changes my poli-sci assignments and makes them total shite. I've been trying to put my computer in standby at night and when I leave for work or school. I know I put it in standby because I watch the screen go black and I hear the fan shut off. BUT when I get home, or even worse in the middle of the night, the computer comes back on BY ITSELF. Sure, some computer person would chalk it up to some computer glitch, some malfunction on some card or some such computer-talk nonsense. BUT I KNOW that it is a ghost, who chose to haunt me and my laptop because the guy with the CB-radio was probably too dumb to figure out he was being haunted.

not just for children

Cupcakes are like little serving sized portions of youthful joy and sunshine. When have you ever eaten a cupcake and not immediately felt better? Well maybe right before you went into a diabetic coma...but that's just different. Last night Katie and I made and decorated cupcakes. It was more fun than either of us probably expected. The top three rows are my cupcakes, the bottom row is the work of Katie's creative genius...LOVING the poodle cupcake. When I eat my cupcakes, I like to lick off all the frosting and then eat the cake...sometimes if I'm so inclined I'll stick the cupcake paper thing in my mouth and chew on it for a while. Some people like to carefully remove the paper then eat the cupcake so that they get a bite of frosting with each and every bite of cake. How do you eat your cupcake (and I do mean cupcake, not some euphamism for body parts)?

now you're on the trolley

I use a lot of "street" vernacular, I could lie and say that I just do it because it keeps me in touch with 'mah rootz' but really I just have a shitty vocabulary. But I'm starting to realize that as I'm getting older, I just don't know what the slang means and I don't learn the new words. So rather than face the fact that I'm too old and boring to be one of the cool kids any longer, I've decided to use 20's slang. I'm not going to try to be 'pimp' anymore, I'm going to be the cat's meow. I don't want to get 'fucked up at da club', I'm gonna get splifficated at the juice joint. And I don't want cool stuff to be 'tits', I want it to be jake. I want to put on my glad-rags, go to swanky parties, drink a bunch of giggle water and get an edge, meet some big six and hopefully get some cash rather than a check. It'll be great because a) nobody will know what the fuck I'm talking about and b) my nostalgic use of the language from another era will totally keep me from turning into one of those old people that tries so hard to keep up with "youth culture," you know the person you laughed at when you were younger.

dongseng

I love my sister. Of course, this wasn't always the case. Apparently when she was a baby, I would wait until my parents left us alone together and then I would take her bottle and dump the contents all over her. Afterwards I would hide the bottle underneath the couch and go into another room. I've envied her from the moment my parents brought her home, not necessarily everything about her but a lot. First of all, she's beautiful and gets more exceptional by the day. She has an different kind of beauty too, a "can't quite place my finger on what it is about her" kind of thing. Plus she's extremely quick witted, it's best not to argue with her because she'll just shoot you down. I usually end up saying something evil and trying to make her cry just so I don't "lose" our verbal battles. She's also really confrontational (and yes that isn't ALWAYS a good thing), but I'm sure that most people secretly wish they could be the kind of person that would tell somebody off rather than just seething inwardly, I know I wish I could. One thing I don't envy about her is her time-keeping. This is my Christmas present from her, only about what...six weeks late? Although I did actually get it before spring for a change. I don't mind though, I love SANRIO (as I let out a high-pitched squeal and twirl around in circles with the bag on my arm). I am an eleven year old girl trapped in an adult body...either that or the soul of a young transvestite lives inside of me.

random thoughts to mask the fact that i am not all that creative

Although chances are most of you have already figured that out. By the by-I love bullets.
o I'm pretty sure the guy driving behind me today had Tourette's syndrome. He kept twitching and talking to himself. At first I thought he was singing to the radio, but there wasn't any rhythm to it. I'm ashamed to admit that it made me laugh.
o While walking my dog two of the people on my street waved to me. I've never seen either of them before. I wonder if they were thinking the same thing when they were waving.
o On my drive home, one of my neighbors was also behind me. I realized that she looks a lot like Gollum, except with hair...and glasses.
o I went to the doctor today. We agreed that I might be having small anxiety attacks. But apparently the only way to treat that is with anti-depressants and I'll never take those again. I didn't like being a zombie, crazy just works better for me.
o Sometimes I think men in tight/skinny pants are sexy, unless they are Wranglers and then I just think it's gross.
o I hate intellectual masturbation.
o I'm going to find out which person around here has the CB radio and then break in and steal it. I'm not sure how or why, but whenever he uses it, my mouse doesn't work and I hate using the keypad.

funny in hindsight

To lighten the mood, I've decided to share some embarrassing and occasionally horrifying incidences from my past and yes it is completely okay to laugh.

o In the fourth grade I raised my hand to ask my teacher a question, instead of calling her by name I called her mommy. The whole class laughed and called me mommy for the rest of the day.
o In junior high, we girls decided it was funny to depants one other. Finally my time came, except it wasn't just my pants that came down. At that exact moment, Charlie B. (resident school hottie) was standing outside of the gymnasium and saw the whole thing. He later drew a picture of the whole event on a phone booth just so I wouldn't forget what it all looked like to him.
o In the sixth grade, on a dare, I french-kissed this boy named Martin. He was a white guy who got a perm so he would look like he had a jerry-curl. I threw up immediately after. I didn't kiss anybody again for another six years.
o In my senior year of high school I had hair down to my butt. I also took wood shop. One day, Amy and Susie and I stayed after school to make up for missing school the day before. I was making a beautiful koa bowl on a lathe (you can probably guess where this is going). Susie was working at the lathe behind me and asked me a question. I turned around to answer her and my hair flung out behind me. It got caught in the lathe and the machine literally ripped the hair right out of my scalp. I had a bald spot the size of a golf ball. Luckily I could arrange the rest of my hair so you couldn't see it. I really don't know if anybody in school knew about that other than my small group of friends and my sister. The teacher asked if he could keep the fistful of hair to display, so all the girls would know why he insisted they put their hair up...I said no.
o My very first day of officially being in the Army we were standing in line for breakfast. The guy in front of me smelled something awful and the whole world starting spinning, and then the lights started to dim. I passed out. I later found out that I passed out at the exact moment that they were explaining to us that you shouldn't lock your knees when you stand at attention or at-ease as it most assuredly will make you pass out. Months after that, at a completely new duty station, people would come up to me to ask me if I was that girl that fainted in the chow line. I never once thought to deny it.
o Once in a sleazy bar in DC these totally skeevy guys were trying to hit on me and Stephanie. I played the bitch role and made them leave us alone. I also got way too drunk that night. Later, after the place closed they found me outside puking in an alleyway. It turned out I lived in the same building as one of those guys. He reminded me of this incident every time I saw him.
o Some of you might remember that last semester I dropped a large and still full cup of coffee during a class. Then trying to escape the coffee before it ended up in my lap, I pulled over a desk and ended up falling down. Not the most gracious thing I've ever done...although not the least either.
o In the 9th grade, we all thought it would be fun to cut class and go to Burger King for lunch. While standing in line I felt a big whomp on my shoulder and turned around. There was my dad standing in line behind me. I was horrified and started to cry, a really blubbery ugly cry, in front of all of my friends. Luckily he didn't tell my mom.

heavy

Have you ever had that feeling in the pit of your stomach, you know where it simultaneously feels hollow and yet still feels like the weight of the world in being held in there? I've had this feeling for the last few days, eh who am I kidding, more like the last few months, and I can't seem to shake it. I don't know if it's a reaction to shit gone wrong or a predictor of shit still waiting to happen. In the big scheme of things, the big picture that my dad tells me to look at while he's packing his suitcase for an all expenses paid vacation to Belize, I know things aren't that bad, not really. But I can't let go of this feeling that good things are happening for other people while my life remains relatively stagnant, as if I'm wading in some festering cesspool of my own making. My apathy has become almost debilitating and I've let myself feel shitty for way too long. But I can't figure out where to go from here, all I can think is "okay...so now what?"PS-I did fail those quizzes last week...and not fail as in perform at a lower level than normal...I seriously FLUNKED. The professor literally flung the papers into my hand, probably so as not to hold onto the flaming piles of dung for too long.