Sunday, June 12, 2005
Ready?
Let's begin.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.
(Found here)
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.
"Ya."
"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, 2005
It'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.
*BUT...*
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 fingers
Some 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!?"
Thanks asshole.
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
Birthday Beer!
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Gah...not even.
My head hurts...I need new glasses all of a sudden...my shoulders pop constantly.Am I really falling apart at the ripe old age of 27, or am i just fucking with myself?
Ok, so not long ago, I got my first migraine. What a miserable experience that was. Good lord. Didn't really help it was after a night of medium level drunkeness. And completely out of aspirin.
Thankfully, I am good friends with 2 of my old roomates and one rushed to the store to get me something for my head. It would have been hell sleeping that off.
But then I never knew how caffienated migraine pills were until I felt them kick in. I was soo looking forward to arseing out and waking up at 4am to call into work, but no...not only was I almost completely incapacitated, I was utterly, unblink-ably awake. And all I could do was lay on my futon and occasionally look at the computer screen. What a shit day. Since then I've gotten one more, but it was nothing compared to that thunder boomer. Still not a happy thing.
Then there's the firecrackers in my shoulders. *pop pop pop pop* I reach for the salt, to brush my hair, put things on shelves...I never ever noticed it until March, when You-Know-Who was here, and he pointed it out to me wondering if it hurt much.
Now I wonder how I never noticed.
And, it's either I do a crap job washing my glasses, or my year old prescription is already out of date or whatever it is that glasses and optometrists call it. I call it annoying, cos it hurts to have my glasses off...I want to start getting headaches...but I want to look at all the crap on my glasses that I frigging missed when I just washed them 2 minutes ago.
I really hope I don't get it into my head that hypochondria is cool. It's not. First, I don't want to end up with a medicine cabinet full of laxatives and creams and gargles and pills...
Second, I am truly not neurotic enough to keep up with the OCDness of a condition like that. Sure, I'd buy the shit. Take it once. End up on my couch freaking out when I feel like something inside me is breaking. But that would be because I didn't ingest 40 lbs of Vitamin E that day. I just...didn't eat my daily regimen of analgesics and vitamins cos I was occupied with something else, like ruining my eyes by surfing the net in the dark.
The thought makes my head hurt. I need to lay down. I might fall asleep, but my joints are crackin' like the fourth of July.
Goodie
It's 6:30am on my day off, and I am awake digging a shard of glass out of the bottom of my foot. All I wanted was a cuppa tea! That's what I get for breaking my stuff. Arf.Saturday, June 04, 2005
Stop and pick flowers out of other people's yards...
That's what I did today on my way to K@0t!X's house to visit my kitty and pick up my computer restore discs. Usually I'm scared to even scratch my arse in a public place, but today I decided it was a good...no and EXCELLENT plan to snag a few meager flowers from along the sidewalk.
Meager doesn't mean un-beautiful though.
Friday, June 03, 2005
I have the creepiest walk to work...
For the first 50 or so yards, maybe. Nothing better than walking by a cemetery at 4 in the morning.
UGH. It freaks me out.
Thankfully, I can wind my way to the street along a different path. One that I wish I had thought of before, cos it's a bit faster. But I'm really not that quick when I first wake up. And I am practically among the walking dead when I leave anyhow.
*Braaiiiiinnnnsss*
UGH.
The guy I bought Compy from is coming over tomorrow to use the digital camera. He better not want to take dirty photos for Hot or Not or whatever it is he has up his sleeve.
I can't risk him seeing MY dirty photos either.
*scrambles*
Not that he would care anyway, as he prefers boys. But I have to work with him, and that would just be bad.
No, please!