Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Old.From 5-21-2005 I am a total idiot.
The tale of the past coupla days isn't long, but it's tedious and really doesn't say much about who I am. Well, it speaks volumes, but not in the best of ways. Makes me look like a big fat fucking idiot.
Renewed my state ID the 19th, got my old one punched and my new temporary paper one. You know, the one that NOONE who sells beer, liquor, cigarettes or porn will accept. Therefore rendering you unable to do a goddamn thing until the new one finally comes in the mail. (Fortunately I actually have mail coming again, after the fucking postman decided my apartment was vacant after me living here for 2 months. Noone told me you HAD to put yer name in there. I was getting mail for the first month!!! Whatever.)
So yesterday I bopped on down to my local Circle K, and bopped on in all ready to pick me up a nice cold case of Pabst or something, and asked the monster at the counter if I could use my paper ID...cos I remembered on the walk there...and I was DENIED! Of course.
So, realising this, knowing the fact that my life would be askew for TEN more days, I began to panic I can't go to a bar...can't go to the gricery store...I'm back at where I was when I was 18 and had to find that over 21 buddy to go buy liquor. And I'm freaking TWENTY-SEVEN!
It's only 10 days, right? I can get through this!
No, no I can't...it's the weekend, and I like to drink on the weekend. I WILL drink this weekend...somehow.
Back in my pad, I sat in front of the computer and had a BRILLIANT idea...safeway and albertson's .com. They will DELIVER me beer! All I have to do , I bet, is give em my ID number online or something like that. Maybe I won't at all! Not so! Noone was delivering at that time. I heard a toilet flushing.
My boyfriend, who we shall call You-Know-Who (as he is also known as on my OTHER blog) feels bad, I can tell...he hasn't been ID'd for years, but the drinking age and all that other legal stuff is much different in Northern Ireland. I mope and whine and want to throw myself on the floor because I really can't do anything about this silly little sitch. My od roomate didn't want to go, he just got home...OK fine. My best friend renewed his ID with me, so he couldn't go for me. You-Know-Who was MUCH to far away to even think about making that run. One buddy was across state, but offered his condolences, and my friend in Oregon offered to mail me beer.
What was I to do? What a bind I was in. A dry weekend! Heavens, whatever shall I do! It's unheard of!
You-Know-Who mentions to me my workplace. He says, have you tried work...don't you sell beer and wine n stuff?
And then the lightbulb comes on over my head. Being ever dim and probably about to burn out. That's when I got REALLY excited. All that anger..the three year old tantrumminess...it disappeared and the sun came out and angels snag and I made that beer run! Did I ever! Sad, though, that never ONCE did that cross my mind...>.<
I work at a place called Cost Plus World Market...some of you may know of it. So all of our alcoholic beverages are warm. Fine by me! I can pick up munchies while I'm here too! And I ended up making plans with my friend Lavender as well. Excellent! This shitty day has sure turned around!
So I went out last night for the first time in a looooong time. I'm lazy and I am broke most of the time...living alone does that to ya. So I tend to arse out in front of my computer and drink or play video games or blog or do all three. I'm exciting like that. All we did was booze it up and watch a couple of films...White Chicks (haha!) and Little Black Book (downer!) Lavender's cat with like 15 toes on each front paw came and hung out with me...he was so cool. I'll take a pic next time I go over...I forgot my cam this time.
So that was my exciting Friday night. Tonight I get to go to bed early again, buttcrack of dawn calls. Being at work at 4am is the WIN!
Monday, July 25, 2005redirect to this site please
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Tackled...AGAIN!Remeber that time when the little girl like ran up and hugged me n stuff? I saw here again on the 1st when I went to pay my rent. Her ma was yackin with one of the lazy ass office bitches, gossipping n shit. I actually had business to attend to and ended up sitting outside the office listening to them shoot the shit. Joy. Way to set yer priorities. It wasn't long maybe 10 minutes. Not like the Social Security Admin office when you just wanna get a new card and you wait AN HOUR because people go on their lunchbreak. HOW DARE THEY! Silly lunchbreaks.
I was plopped down in an armchair staring at this little golden yellow poof of a dog that was leashed to the door. Of course when I walked in i HAD to like attack it with love. I'm a sucker what can I say? As I'm watchin little dog sit n lick itself, a little girl sidles up to me and I look and LO AND BEHOLD it's tackle girl. Silly grin on that silly freckled face. She's a cutie. And that was her cutie dog on the lead and he had the coolest name. Or she I have no clue...Yellow. You know she was the one to name it. And I think it's way better than say, Poofball or Tinkerbell or something. Who the fuck names their dog Tinkerbell? Oh wait...bleh.
So I dunno shit bout this little kid, but either her mom is just a bitch, is impatient and not very nurturing or the kid is a pest but she eventually got yelled at by her mom and she walks out and takes doggie and disappears.
I felt so sad.
whoa...so so very very neat. i think i'm in love.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
The world is gong to hell in a handbasket, not on the express route, thankfully, but still it's noticably frightening, and retarded and odd and not always necessary. For one, we have the introduction of Bratz dolls. Who thought that bullshit up? These are worse than Barbie, and I can't even trash her that much because she's an icon, a poor one, but an icon nonetheless. These bodaciously bobble-headed bishes have worse eye makeup than Tammy Faye, and bodies Twiggy would look gigantic next to. Not to mention the Slut Factor these things have. These are the last thing I'd let my little girl play with. And what about the boy Bratz? Ugh. Can you say Backdoor Boys? I can almost see them lined up doing some stupid dance routine and howling some unfortunate tune about girlfriends and all that sappy shit.
Next on our political plate, we have people 'splashing' urine on other religious holy books. This is ridiculous. First of all, how do you just splash something with your piss? Was it bathroom reading and you turned and it got all over it? Did you fill up a glass and toss it on that general direction? Whoever raised these folks to have a little respect didn't do it right. POW's or not, they're still humans. (I sense a kettle a fish...)
Now thes eman are the same ones who attacked out men, blew up Jeeps, whatever it was they did. Well, we just invaded their country. What would you do? Would you sit idly by and just watch it happen? No, I doubt that would happen. There would be absolute fucking chaos. Some mother fucker would go crazy try to take them all on themself... We's have ourselves a new Rambo.
"Rambo 3" is a fascinating and unintended exposé of American (and Western, more generally) politics in the Middle East. Lest we should forget, it takes place in Afghanistan, where the bare chested one, played by famous American right-winger S. Stallone, goes to rescue his mentor "who covered his ass" ...and take on the entire Red Army. Almost. During the course of his mission, he teams up with what can only be described as proto-Taliban, who are equally, if undeveloped, hell (oops) bent on doing away with the Soviets. The best is to come : the film is actually dedicated to "the gallant people of Afghanistan" and there you have it, a perfect history lesson in a nutshell.
As a note, the tribe in the film wasn't really proto-Taliban, as there were things depicted that the Taliban frowns deeply upon, such as the women were not covered completely.
Enough about that, I don't know as much about this as I make it seem. But I DO know about velour jogging suits.
Maybe it's just me, but I don't consider that the kind of attire to leave the house is for anything other than running to the store to get milk. Same with pyjamas...and SWEATPANTS! Gross. Just gross.
And these velour jumpsuit thingies are always worn by girls who are wearing TOO much lipgloss, FAR too blonde, wearing platform flip-flops accompanied by fully dressed males. I won't go on. It's wretched. Loungewear shouldn't be worn outside the house.
I've run out of steam. Goddamn velour.
Tackled!I just walked to the Circle K to get meself a gallon of moo-juice, and as I was walking by the pool, this little red-haired freckly girl comes running at me. I thought she was gonna run by, but instead I got tackled and mauled with a giant hug and asked where I was going.
"I'm goin' to the store." I say.
"You gots moneys?" She's squinting, cos the sun is in her eyes.
"How many?" She's chewin' on some candy.
"Enough for milk." I reply.
"OK." And she takes off and I go on my mery little way, with this huge grin trying to break it's way out.
Then I walked into Circle K and Homely-Face was working. UGH. That woman is just...UGH. And when I got to the counter with my gally-o-moo, she was ALSO eating a fucking candy bar. The whole thing was in her mouth.
People who talk with their mouth full are frigging disgusting. Some not so much as others. She had the whole tongue motion and was clearing one side of her mouth out.
Words can't describe my disgust.
Thursday, June 09, 2005It's quite amazing, the things that will just knock a person on their ass. And sometimes leave them sitting there unwilling to stand back up. It's like being gently run over by a train, as daintily as can be, and even though everything's intact afterwards, stnading up is so completely out of the question, it's a true war between mind and spirit to even move to a sitting position.
I feel more than a little fucked up right now. I was fine up until I found out a certain amount of cash going towards something important to me has not gotten to where it needs to be, and that I must pay it. Huzzah. I can pay it. Sacrificing the things that I had planned. Like real food. It's amazing how priorities change. I never worried about this when I had three roomates. All I ate was next to nothing.
Now that I might not be able to get it, thats painful.
Overreacting is what I do best though. And it could very well be what I am doing. But nothing has made me feel this low, or this shit since I was like 18. It's been NINE years since I've felt anything even close to being depressed. And ya know what? It fucking sucks.
I'll come out of it. You-Know-Who told me everything WILL be all right.
And I totally believe him. And I believe myself when I think that.
Time will tell, and will tell soon. I'm hanging in.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Who Links Here
Monday, June 06, 2005
Pointing fingersSome people just don't know when to fucking stop and let it die. They can't seem to realise their cause is completely lost. They've put their finger in the frosting and ruined the cake for everyone else.
You scream, "What about me!?"
I scream, "What about the REST OF US!?"
I never even heard of you. You, the one screaming for attention when it was your own dumb fault you got screwed for what you did. It's called professionalism, and apparently it's something you don't posess. You oughta know better. You should know that no matter where or what you post nowadays, someone you don't want seeing your shit is gonna see your it, and then your whole world is going to explode.
You still utterly lack class. You always will. You coulda shut your mouth and gone on and gotten work elsewhere. Take some fucking responsibilty for what you did to YOURSELF. Cry for a few days then drag yourself back out to the real world and work like the rest of us. We don't live on handouts. Not like you do. You're at the bottom of the tank with the rest of the scummy lowlife.
I don't like a single thing you've got to say. Fair enough. But all it boils down to is vapid chatter from someone who just can't get enough attention, someone who says LOOK AT ME! Even after the horse is long dead and beaten to a pulp, and still getting beaten.
A lot of us have stopped caring. Whatever happened to you made not a minute difference in my life, except that NOW you are impeding on public domain. Have a little respect for yourself and for others and know when you've worn out your welcome. It's time to let it go. Move on.
Let the nice people do their work and move on. Quit screwing things up and making life ten times more difficult. You are NOT helping things any. You're the fat lady with a triple stroller blocking the aisle where I need to go.
And this activist persona you've taken on...we can't do what we like because YOU stand in our way. Nice try. Less is more. No really, in your case, it is.
Let the nice people have their space back.
One from the vault
Posted by: whatsername78.