Confessions of An Aspiring Drunkard
I Watch C-SPAN; I Don't Know.
I refuse to acknowledge this story as the protagonist is a stupid kid who has been dropped on his head one-too-many times. What do you expect from a 20-YEAR-OLD? Maturity?
Anyway...
I am feeling slightly better mood-wise, but it is going. I have devoted myself to the task of changing the email on all my fanlistings and other things that I can remember.
Spam invasion.
Drunk-o-meter: *shrug*
Mood: *shrug*
Found This; Thought it was Funny
In my attempts to ameliorate my hockey withdrawl (my team finally wins something, and the next season is a LOCKOUT? That is so a page out of my book), I was surfing the net.
Actually, I was looking for info on this man, and I found something else (stolen from here):
TOP TEN BAD THINGS ABOUT BEING A HOCKEY GOALTENDER
10. Smart-asses who toss beach balls at the net.
9. Letting those beach balls in.
8. Jealous back-up's that hide your cup, causing "puck
castration"
7. Always annoying death threats from opposition upon
stopping a 2-1.
6. Always annoying death threats from teammates upon
letting in a 2-1.
5. Always annoying death threats from fans upon steping
onto the ice.
4. Paterity suits from the mother of the uniroyal man
3. Being a top-rated NHL goalie, being traded to a cold
Canadian city, not getting the money you deserve, and
having to play in Las Vegas (Curtis Joseph only)
2. The opposite sex just doesn't understand why you have
to wear a mask to bed.
1. When you flip the ref the bird behind the blocker, they
can't even tell.
I would post a piccie of my favorite non-pro goalie, but I can't be arsed. If you can't figure out who it is by looking at this page you are either blind, stupid, unobservant, or all three.
Which means you most likely didn't read the above.
Drunk-o-meter: Keep 'em coming.
Mood: Beyond murderous.
What a Way to Greet the Day
I feel like shit, plain and simple.
That said, Min, if you read this, could you please post the link to that page with the Manics pics (like the one with Sean sleeping) into my comments? I forgot the link.
Again.
Otherwise, my stomach is still messed up, and now I can't keep anything in. I can keep food down, but it won't stay long enough to be absorbed without rushing back out again. To this end, I am hungry and I am cranky.
Getting on with today's Robscope:
Clint Eastwood's Million Dollar Baby is the best Hollywood movie of 2004, said A.O. Scott in the New York Times. But Salon.com's Charles Taylor panned the film, calling it leaden and boring, "a compendium of every cliché from every bad boxing melodrama ever made." I suspect that you will get equally contradictory reviews for your life and work in the coming week, Leo. For instance, some people may regard you as a magician who has transformed rot into splendor, while others may think of you as a dabbler with too much self-esteem. Both are wrong. More importantly, their opinions, whether good or bad, shouldn't concern you. Be your own judge.
Good point. Fuck 'em all, I say.
I'm now going to go somewhere and cry.
Drunk-o-meter: Anything that puts me into a haze.
Mood: Beyond deadly.
For all my loyalty...
Thanks a lot, Earthlink. You can bite me.
For anyone trying to email me, my email address is organized8577@angelfire.com.
Bastards.
Also, my love of the 'wurst finally got to me yesterday. Sicker than sick. Still not feeling much better, but I'm here.
Yippee.
Drunk-o-meter: I already feel like I have a bad hangover.
Mood: You don't even want to know.
And I Slur to Myselfffffffffffffff
Green is my favorite color, and like Zaphod Beeblebrox I am slightly superstitious about it.
Super Absinthe
So, I've been preparing myself mentally (physically comes this weekend) to meet the Green Fairie again.
Absinthe Buyer's Guide
Zoomgraphics Absinthe Page
It's Not Easy Being Green
About: Absinthe
I'm gonna win, damnit!
Drunk-o-meter: Absinthe, absinthe! I'm getting a loopy just thinking about it. I must have...
Mood: Maddening.
Romance...bah?
I don't know why, but Ive been feeling the urge for romance.
I've been reading books by this author. This woman can write. There actually are plots worth following, believable characters, something to read about besides the sex (which is written in deliciously sensual terms)...I am enthralled. I have been snapping up every one of her books that I can find.
And there's no Silhouette silhouette. That's a bonus.
But the fact of the matter is, I want to be someone's rock. Someone's strength, someone's stalwart. I want to be the one that my...er...someone...can depend upon to help feel better when that someone is down. I want to love somebody (isn't that a song???). I want to give to somebody.
That's right; I want to be someone's lap dog.
Ugh...exposing my vulnerable underbelly like this. I'd better turn back over.
Drunk-o-meter: I don't do champagne. I hate champagne,
Mood: So-so.
Two Great Tastes That Taste Great Together
I know; how original.
I was rooting around this site, went here, and I came across this little gem of a photo:
It doesn't take much.
Drunk-o-meter: I'll take a double.
Mood: Level.
Wednesday Robday
A giant Wal-Mart now stands within a mile of the ancient Pyramid of the Sun in Teotihuacán, Mexico. A KFC restaurant emits a steady surge of fried chicken fumes very close to Egypt's Sphinx. Meanwhile, near the most sacred place in your heart, Leo, there is a mound of psychic garbage. You can't do anything about the desecration of the first two places I mentioned, but you can about the third. I recommend that you take care of this little problem in the coming week. In addition to acts of cleansing and purification, I suggest you make a ritual atonement or two.
OMG, Rob has hit the nail on the head this week. I am sifting through that mound of psychic garbage right now. It doesn't smell very nice.
There are also a lot of sharp edges. You know what they say, "a whiskey for cuts".
Yes, they do.
Fine, I made it up.
Drunk-o-meter: Craving a scotch.
Mood: Level.
It's Not that I Can't Find Worth In Anything...
...It's just that I can't find worth in enough.
I don't know. I go over and over this, and maybe it isn't good for me.
My demons are back--truth be told, they never really are that far away.
Why can't I just be numb? Why can't I just drink myself into an early grave? Why is it that I can only drink for a short time before I'm bored even with it?
I don't want to live, damn it, and it seems that my body is conspiring against me to keep me alive.
It hurts too much. Again.
Drunk-o-meter: I'm at work, but I'm hitting the ABC as soon as I get off the bus tonight.
Mood: Don't even ask.
Happy Fuckin' New Year
The Hellidays are finally over. Thank fucking god.
I am here at work, I forgot to take my meds this morning...
It's going to be a looooooooooooooooong day.
Drunk-o-meter: I'll drink nail polish remover at this point.
Mood: Spiralling down.
Too Bad It's the Title of an MSP Song
Aid Sri Lanka
USAID
Oxfam America
UNICEF
AusAid
The Command Post: Earthquake--How You May Help
ReliefWeb
Doctors Without Borders
For Lists of the Missing and Survivors, go here.
Now, get out there and do something worthwhile!
Robscope
This should be the year you devote yourself to the maddening and glorious details, Leo. I encourage you to dive into the mysteries of intricacy as you master the thousand and one practical matters that will ultimately make your dreams come true. You might want to memorize the following quote from philosopher William James: "I am done with great things and big plans, great institutions and big success. I am for those tiny, invisible loving human forces that work from individual to individual, creeping through the crannies of the world like so many rootlets, or like the capillaries."
Crannies. I love that word.
Drunk-o-meter: Nah.
Mood: Zen.
Linkee-Doo
I have another sinus headache from hell.
Drink-o-meter
Possible Truth: Michael Jackson's Actions
Landover Baptist Church
Happy Woman Magazine
America's Best Christian
Technical Virgin dot com
I'm out.
Drunk-o-meter: Benedryll goes great with whisky.
Mood: Murderous.
Have Yourself a Merry Pier 1 Christmas...
After much internal deliberation, I finally decided to just (for once in my life) go with it and go to my sis' in Mascotte for Christmas.
To be honest, I'm glad I did.
In my last-minute gift-buying frenzy, I ran into the perfect gift for her at Pier 1. It was a Mandarin Tea Set...with a beautiful blue and white motif. I was sure that I had stumbled onto something that she didn't have, as she is a collector of dishes and things of that nature.
She loved it. And you know what? That smile was worth it.
I got my other sister two windchimes--one was a chinese coin windchime and the other was a tower windchime...and they sound beautiful. She loved them.
My brother-in-law loved his glazed rhino (inside joke) and my other brother-in-law loved his scented stuff (I'm not quite sure what to call it).
In other news:
Death toll for that quake in Asia tops 23,000. Those poor people. I was watching the news last night and this morning, and I could only shake my head and try to send some positive energy.
I'm watching CNN at work right now, and I just want to cry.
Drunk-o-meter: I don't know...would this be the time to drink?
Mood: Sad.
Ho-Ho-Frackin'-Ho
I hate Christmas. I really do.
I will be participating in the forced-family-interaction portion of the holiday, so I will be withdrawing for a few days to prepare for the torture and find a way to smile and scowl through it at the same time.
No, I will not suck it up. Luckily, the sister whose house I will be going to stocks booze. I hope there will be rum.
I also have two weeks' worth of schoolwork to do.
Drunk-o-meter: I will need all that I can get.
Mood: Sour and moving lower.
In the Spirit of the Season...
Twisted Christmas Radio
I love Bob Rivers. I'm trying to get my mp3s off the hard drive that got fried when my old PS died, and it's killing me.
Otherwise, here's what Rob has to say:
Last month, a religious fanatic in Taiwan decided to reach out to a previously neglected group of heathens. At a zoo, he leaped into a lion's den and began trying to convert the beasts to the Christian faith. "Jesus will save you!" was one of his oft-repeated exhortations. The lions seemed enraged by his appeals, and it was only through the heroic efforts of the zookeepers that the crusader was saved from martyrdom. Let him serve as your anti-role model in 2005, Leo. Work diligently to spread your good intentions; be brave in promoting your high ideals; ramp up your powers of persuasion to a new level; but don't waste your time trying to win over dumb beasts, bad listeners, and narrow-minded dogmatists.
As Mrs. Tweedy said in Chicken Run, "Finally, something we agree on."
Drunk-o-meter: Nah.
Mood: Normal.
You Didn't Hear it from Me...
Oh, yeah, baby!
Rock, rock, Clash Photo Rockers!
DirecTV finally showed something good on the freeview...but it was too short. I mean, ohe hour and fifteen minutes zooms by when you are watching The Clash(no, I will not call them by the other name).
Everyone else seems to be doing their year-end wrapup thing. I will not. Partially because I don't have the time, and partially because I don't care.
But, in the spirit of New Year...and before I get so drunk I'm seeing multiples, here's my mommie and me:
(pssst! I'm the one in the blanket.)
Ain't I cute.
Drunk-o-meter: I don't need a reason.
Mood: Idunno.
Attention Ioan Gruffudd:
After careful review of the previews for the King Arthur DVD (come on, it was better than Troy)...
Don't shave again.
Ever.
I mean it.
Drunk-o-meter: None for me thanks.
Mood: Regular
It's Saturday...Yea
I'm here at the library. I fell asleep to New Order's "Perfect Kiss" on Music Choice last night, so I am somewhat contented right now. I am also away from the hooligans that are connected to me by blood.
I was going through my email, and I picked up my RobScope:
Many spiritual teachers say you're most likely to
succeed at meditation if you sit quietly in a sanctuary. They believe you need to retreat from the world in order to develop compassionate objectivity about life. The eighteenth-century Zen Buddhist teacher Hakuin Ekaku had a different view. "Meditation in the midst of activity is a billion times superior to meditation in stillness" was his motto. I agree with him. But one of the reasons it's superior is because it's so much harder. Have you ever tried to see God in your boss while he or she is yelling at you about some trivial mistake? Are you able to remain open- hearted to a loved one when he or she isn't being open-hearted to you? Believe it or not, Leo, you could go a long way towards mastering these skills in 2005. It'll be prime time to learn how to meditate in the midst of the daily chaos.
That is so right and true. I have trouble meditating quietly. I am hypersensitive to my surroundings (like a cat) and the slightest noise or change to my environment puts me off. I need to wear headphones or go somewhere away from everyone.
No one around me seems to get that. I need to be alone. I need to be by myself. I need the quiet. I'll go nuts otherwise.
Drunk-o-meter: Hell, yes. I need a drink. Make it a double scotch.
Mood: Annoyed, but somewhat calm.
Long Time, No Blog
I know, I know. But I just haven't had much to say lately.
First things first:
I can't wait!
(I also can't wait for this, but that's another story.)
If I hear another wastoid on some stupid entertainment waste-of-pixels pronounce it "Constan-teen", I am going to scream. I know we can't all be geeks, but how about some effort? Oh, wait; that would require reading.
Yes, I have this obsession-thing with Keanu, but I am also looking forward to seeing Tilda Swinton. I love her. She can act, and she doesn't act like she will sleep with you.
In other news:
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Super-Size Me, Tokyo Style COSTCO in Tokyo. Oh, dear.
D.L.C.: Democrats Love Corporations? Just now figuring that out?
In Bed With Terrorists This is where we roll the footage of Rumsey shaking hands with Saddam...or Dubya holding a Saudi nobleman's hand.
Back to raking the muck...this feels good.
Drunk-o-meter: I can't right now, I'm at work
Mood: Steady.
Thursday...
It's the most depressing time of the year. I hate Christmas and all of its trappings. I've been wrestling with my demons again, staying up late, not being able to sleep more than a few hours. I'm tempted to triple my dose of the 'Pro. But that would be dangerous. I'm feeling like I could be my own guinea pig these days.
Somebody give me a bottle of something and a glazed doughnut.
*temporary elation ahead*
About five weeks ago I started taking online courses for Computer Network Management. I just took the last exam of the course.
I got 100! I can't believe it. And I got 100's on all my written assignments that I submitted. Wow.
The next module starts Monday. I can relax now. I think I'll go catch up on my reading. I've got some new books.
Oh, and nudel, I'm still working on your chart. I'll have it done, proofread, and emailed to you by Monday afternoon. It'll be in Word format. Let me know if you want it in a different document format.
Everyone else, I'm working on your charts as well. You should have them in the order I received your requests.
Another thing: the kids are going with their other aunt this weekend. It's gonna be strange working without chaos all around me.
Oh, well.
Drunk-o-meter: Nah.
Mood: Relief
We Are a Part of a Rhythm Turkey
Thanksgiving. Had fun. Can't really say more.
I updated the Keanuscope with the 5:41 birthtime. Thanks to everyone who pointed it out to me.
The kids loved Harpo Day, and I have to say that I had fun as well. Freaked the hell out of the neighbors, though. We have a metal band next door, and I dare say that they thought the chick dressed like Harpo Marx was a bit much after a late night.
Hehehe...sometimes I kill me.
And today is Bruuuuuuuuce...ahem, Bruce Lee Day. I love Sagittariuseseseseses...
Drunk-o-meter: Still on the wagon. The TG venue changed, and I don't like white wine much.
Mood: Up.
Yay
Hey, look; I used an emoticon.
The Sun has moved into Sagittarius and my spirits have lifted a bit.
Tomorrow is Harpo Marx's birthday, and I will be commemorating it in my usual manner. Harpo Day is the one day of the year where I can guarantee a good mood.
I know the kids'll love this.
Thanks to everyone who emailed me about doing their natal charts. I really appreciate the enthusiastic response. I will go ahead and get started on them in the order I received your request.
And god? I finished your chart and emailed it to you.
Any questions, email me back.
Ta, everyone.
Drunk-o-meter: Harpo couldn't hold his liquor. I shall be abstaining this week.
Mood: Decent
So Here It Is...Monday
Arafat is dead. Good riddance. Lying, cheating, terrorizing...
anyway.
I still haven't managed to shake off my funk. I just feel absolutely sick and cheerless.
I don't even have the energy to finish this entry.
I managed to cobble together a horoscope for Keanu Reeves as a practice for my chart-reading skills. It barely scratches the surface, but I got it done.
Off to look at my transits...I have a funny feeling.
Oh, and read this. It's pretty good.
Drunk-o-meter: Just leave the bottle.
Mood: Darkening as I write. *sigh*
Formless God Rant
God is a loving entity who is concerned with the well-being of the humans he created in his image? The earth was created by him for us to enjoy, after all it is the only inhabited planet in the whole universe? Those other planets? He put them there just for us to look at. Their motion means nothing in particular; they are merely a part of a celestial mobile for God’s Little Children. At first, God didn’t want his sweet little children to suffer. He made the Earth pretty, with trees and stuff, and animals that we got to name ourselves. I’m sure the first human was really glad for the occupation, what with nothing else to do all day but hang around naked and eat fruit.
This is what the people who actually swallow this God bullshit want you to believe. They want you to believe that God is actually very nice, and would never intentionally hurt those he created. “Look to the bible,” they say.
I did. I had it shoved down my throat from the time I was very small. What kind of God did I see? Was he like he was described?
The deities in just about every mythological tradition the world over are anthropomorphic—that is, human-like. I can see why:
If God is so omniscient, omnipotent, so grand, so glorious…why the hell does he need people to glorify and worship him? You mean to tell me that God is Insecure and has Low Self-Esteem? He’s got all those angel folks he created—“myriads of them”, supposedly. If he’s got all of Them to tell Him how Great He Is, what’s with all the humans running around? Maybe the “glorious” is short for Vainglorious. That would make sense. After all, in the Bible, God’s always saying how mighty He is, and how deserving of worship He is, and how His Genius allowed him to construct the universe, and how He is the best damn thing since the beginning of time—oh wait—He is the beginning. He’s also the End. He’s Everything. If a human says that, he’s considered arrogant. And God doesn’t like anyone else being arrogant. It takes the focus off him.
He also loves a good joke—at human expense. Maybe the angels caught on to him after one to many Heavenly Whoopee Cushions. After all, we humans are of limited intellectual capacity compared to the All-Knowing. We’re the best audience for Him—a captive one. Here’s a real zinger:
“Hey, Adam and Eve: I’m going to make these great trees that bear all the fruit you want. This fruit is delicious (even though you don’t know what wine is yet). Listen, there’s this one tree in the middle that I don’t want you to touch. I’m gonna make this tree here extra-tempting and give you some of this stuff called Curiosity so I can’t be blamed when you disobey me like I know you will because I Know Everything. See ya’.” You know he was just hiding somewhere with who would eventually become Allen Funt.
What happens when the hapless humans eat from the tree? They “became like God, knowing good and bad”, according to the Bible. Yeah, humans from that point in were more like God, all right—vain, arrogant, self-centered, self-serving, narrow, and interested in their own pleasure. Yep, sounds a lot like that God guy.
Here’s another one. “Hey, Abraham. This is God. What’s up? You’re glad I gave you your only son, right? Well, you two are going to go on a little picnic the top of that mountain over there. No, not that one--that one. Yeah. Anyway, I want you to take a really sharp knife and some rope.
“Okay, you guys alone? Abraham, I want you to tie Isaac up. Make sure those knots are secure. No, you don’t have to blindfold him. Now, take that knife I told you to bring and stab him. Right through the heart. Yes, I’m serious. You’ve been kinda distant lately, and I just need to be sure that you love me like you say you do (does God sound like a needy girlfriend, or what?). So, I want you to kill your kid for me. *pause while Abraham says goodbye to his kid and gets some shit together for sacrificing* Okay, go ahead. *waits until Abraham raises arm* Pssst, Abe. GOTCHA! You don’t really have to kill your kid. I was just shittin’ you! Here’s a ram. Sacrifice that instead. And hurry up, I’m hungry.”
Oh, and my favorite example from the Old Testament (called such because it happened before God discovered Grecian formula): Job. Remember him? Nice guy, really rich? God’s best friend after Abraham kicked it? To prove a point, God lets his asshole son Satan take everything away from Job. He also lets Satan inflict Job with terrible boils. You know, because losing all your loved ones and your property isn’t bad enough. All that just to prove that Job’s his boy. Yes, I know that Job eventually got his stuff back, but God could have just had him write a letter of recommendation.
I refuse to believe the hype. I refuse to worship or respect that. He’s a sick bastard who cares nothing for his creation—that is, if I believed in the Bible as the True Word of God and if I believed that there actually was a God. No, and no.
I’m not speaking from any kind of experimental existential crisis. I’m speaking from good, old-fashioned cynicism coupled with a world view made all the bleaker by the knowledge that God is fabricated. God is an invention, simple as that.
God was invented by certain men who decided that they were better than all the rest. They couldn’t just say it because the others would point out to them that they were basically full of shit. So they came up with this God person who conveniently reflected their qualities—especially the arrogance. The other humans swallowed this, and the next thing you know, we have a good old-fashioned patriarchal hierarchy complete with the systematic abuse and enslavement of women, the persecution and sometimes destruction of anyone who thought differently, and the denial of any other forms of existence. Thanks to the entrenched conservatism of the enslaved, the situation hasn’t changed over centuries. God forbid change. That would mean actually having to think for one. That would mean uncertainty. That would mean realizing that the universe isn’t a box. Self-perpetuating ignorance sure has been good for God’s inventors.
You can tell that religion and that the worship of any god or gods is fabricated. Truth is an absolute. The fact that the different so-called religions and paths can’t even get the fact that there is a god straight should tell you something: someone’s lying. Could it be the inventors, or the invention? Why is it that such a “fundamental truth” is subject to such confusion? Makes you think, doesn’t it?
Drunk-o-meter: Fuck shots, just gimme the whole bottle.
Mood: Depressed as hell.
Just When I Thought My Hope Was Gone...
This strangely cheered me.
You go, Reeves!
And...Hubba-Hubba!
Speaking of depressing...
Why is it the one sport that can hold my attention for more than five minutes has to go on strike??! I can't watch football anymore, I can't watch basketball anymore, I've NEVER liked baseball. I don't really care about soccer as much as I used to...
Drunk-o-meter: Three triples, please!
Mood: Sinking.
I Voted...!
...and got screwed again.
I live in one of the "battleground states", and was especially wary of any shennanigans going on after the last time around.
It all went surprisingly smooth, but I still felt sick to my stomach. When I saw the ruckus that was to break over Ohio (where I have family, imagine that), I thought, "here it comes".
When Kerry conceded--well, to be honest, I wasn't surprised.
I feel slightly let-down. This year hurt, literally. I'm spiritually exhausted. I'm not sad that Kerry (aka Bush cousin) lost, I'm disappointed that there are people out there who want Mr. Pseudo-Tough-Guy to be President again.
But you know what really bothers me? Ahnold vs. Hillary in 2008. I can feel it.
Not to get all conspiracy-minded, but...
Bush vs. Kerry...cousins and Bonesmen.
And has anyone else noticed Bushie's Windsor ears?
Maybe it is just a coincidence.
Dan Rather and I both need a nap about now...
Drunk-o-meter: No, thanks.
Mood: Depressed. Again.
Nothin' Shakin'
...but the leaves on the trees/Hey!
Nothing much going on in the life at the moment.
Preparing to start online classes for network admin.
Still sitting on babies.
Still depressed.
Want a drink.
Oh, and congrats to the Red Sox fans out there. At least your sport isn't on lockout. *pout*
Drunk-o-meter: Yes, please. I'll drink isopropyll.
Mood: I tripled my dose, some I'm kind of monosyllabic right now.
Number-ology
I've been checking out this numerology thing a little more closely lately, and I'm intigued for more.
Since everyone has been occupied with Theresa's 5th birthday this week, I have been transcribing the number system for different languages and alphabets.
It isn't so bad, in fact--I love it. It's just the thing to keep me from going completely insane.
Aside from that, I have been exploring the workings of the Winter Haven Area Transit system. Lovely. Really.
Nothing else to report. I'm really boring these days.
Here's my Robscope for this week:
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): Here's good news for Leo actor Billy Bob Thornton: The coming weeks will be a perfect time to conquer his phobias of antique furniture, Komodo dragons, intestinal parasites, old silver forks, and photos of Benjamin Disraeli's hair. For that matter, *all* of you Leos will experience a dramatic increase in your power to conquer irrational anxieties and superstitious fantasies. Stand up to your inner bully! Don't let that intimidating fear-monger push you around any more.
Forget it; I'm not going anywhere NEAR spiders. Or photos of Benjamin Disraeli's hair.
Drunk-o-meter: I'm jonesin'. And no, that does not make me an alcoholic.
Mood: So-so
Update
I am really, really tired. I jump every time the words "Tropical Depression" are said. I don't want to watch the weather ever again.
I've had a breakthrough of sorts lately. I've been reading the book Depression is a Choice by A.B. Curtiss. It got me thinking.
Maybe I do let myself feel horrible because it has never occured to me that I can feel any other way. I've never tried fighting it because I thought I couldn't.
Wow.
Maybe I Should Elaborate
I've been babysitting my niece and nephew. Full-time. Until I find suitable employment.
Profiles In Relative Insanity:
Theresa Lynn Ealy
Age: 4 (10/19/99)
Height: Somewhere under 5 feet
Weight: 50 lbs
Favorite Color: Pink. Purple.
Favorite Movie: Anything with a Disney Princess (which is an improvement over the 400 times I had to watch Shrek with her)
Hobbies: Torturing Jordan, Being a Drama Queen, Unexpectedly running up to me and hugging me, Demanding food, Messing with my (locked) computer, Talking (she even talks in her sleep), Contortion (the kid is flexible), Criticizing my cooking, Begging for gum (she found my stash of Juicy Fruit), Talking (I tell ya', she talks A LOT), Smiling when people tell her she's pretty (which is every time we leave the house), Being a Daddy's Girl, Watching me sleep
Possible Future Careers: Lecturer, Spy, Food Psychic, Female Bodybuilder, Model, Princess (that's what she said. Isn't that cute? *sticks finger down throat*), Public Speaker
Jordan Michael Ealy
Age: 2 (3/1/02)
Height: Almost Theresa's. He's going to be huge.
Weight: Heavy.
Favorite Color: Not definite.
Favorite Movie: "Sully! Sully!" (I think he means Monsters, Inc). He's also in love with Shrek. He's currently (and happily) wearing his Shrek ears. It's so cute. Oh...and Finding Nemo
Hobbies: Torturing Theresa, Hitting me, Being disturbingly affectionate, Headbutting things (I don't know how that started), Talking (he seems to like it a lot, but not as much as Theresa), Smiling, Saying hi to everybody,
Copying nearly everything Theresa does, Demanding food, Running around the coffee table, Watching me sleep, Stripping (this boy will not keep a diaper on--I think it's time to potty-train him)
Possible Future Careers: Politician, Astronaut, Contortionist (he is also very flexible), Olympic Sprinter, Filmmaker, PR Guy, Chippendale
I love 'em to bits, though. I wouldn't trade them for anything. Even when I want to strangle them.
Been a While
Just dropping a quick note to say that I survived Hurricane Jeanne. The power went out (shock), but everything is somewhat back to normal.
Statistically, we should be the safest place for the next 50 years.
I hope.
Drunk-o-meter: Forced sobriety sucks
Mood: The Usual
Oh, Say It Ain't So!
In what could be called one of my personal nightmares, Hurricane Julie (renamed Jeanne--what's up with that???) has made a turn to the west and is now heading for Florida.
In other news, received a rejection letter from PCC.
In the past, I would have taken it personally and been really upset.
I'm not.
I think that's progress.
Drunk-o-meter: Sober and hating it.
Mood: Stable
RobScope
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): In the coming week you will be prone to eruptions of intuition about exciting future events that you have not previously imagined. Lucid visions of challenging adventures may pop into your mind's eye out of nowhere. When you come into the presence of people who may one day figure prominently in your creative departures from routine, you might feel chills run up and down your spine. Be alert for
these signals from the Great Beyond. It's time for you to become your own fortune-teller.
Oh, goody--I get to be psychic. Yea. Really.
Drunk-o-meter: Sober. Damn.
Mood: Normal
Da Da Da-Da Da-Da...Da Da Da-Da Da-Da
Made the rounds of the staffing agencies around here. Struck pay dirt at one.
Otherwise, just chilling with the kids and generally relaxing.
I'm also trying not to think of the impending doom that will accompany Hurricane Ivan...
Damn! I did it again!
I've been glued to the news watching this thing. It seems as if the forecast track is leaning further and further away from the Tampa Bay area and closer to the PH.
Maybe that means Ivan will hit Panama City and do billions of dollars worth of improvements.
Hmmm...
Drunk-o-meter: Sober. Really.
Mood: Stable
Fragrance: Something I found in the guest bathroom. There's an S on the bottle. Smells good.
Strange Calm Before the Storm
Watching Finding Nemo with the little 'uns.
I love Crush. Turtles rule. Period.
Fin;
Noggin;
Duuuuuuuuuuuuude.
Drunk-o-meter: It's been suggested that I shouldn't drink in front of the kids. Okay. I'll wait 'til they feign sleep tonight.
Mood: Sweet. Totally.
Ivan
Come on, now.
Charley
Francis
And now, possibly, Ivan.
What? Were we extra naughty or something last year?
I don't remember seeing a lump of coal...
Category 5. Lovely. Just lovely.
*walks away, shaking head*
Drunk-o-meter= Still on the well vodka.
Mood: *sigh*
I Made It. I Don't Know if That's Good Or Bad.
*crawling out of her shelter* *looks around* *blinks*
I made it. I survived.
Damn.
It's a mess in the Tampa Bay area. I'm in Polk County, so we got hit pretty hard as well. We didn't flood, but there's debris all over the place. The poor folks in the surrounding counties (Citrus, Pasco, Hernando, Pinellas, Hillsborough, etc) got flooded rivers, lakes, retention ponds...it's not pretty.
Drunk-o-meter: Well vodka. Straight. Multiples.
Mood: Depressed, but I think I'll be okay.
That's It. We're All Going to Die
Hurricane Charley kicked our ass about three weeks ago. Now, Frances is coming.
Category 5. It's not a good sign when your weatherman is "praying for a category 4".
Not good at all.
If there's ever a time to drink, it would be in the next few days.
Drunk-o-meter: Hell yes, I'll have another
Mood: Pessimistic
Millions of peaches...peaches for me...
I have a shiny new jar of Del Monte cling peaches. Normally that wouldn't be news or anything, but I love peaches.
In other news, had the strangest health experience this morning. Threw up four times. Why? Not a clue.
And no--I'm not pregnant. Very not pregnant. That would mean a sex life.
Was it something I ate? Not sure. My sis had the same thing and she's fine. Maybe it was nerves.
Yeah, nerves.
Drunk-o-meter: I'm dehydrated enough, thank you
Mood: Average
RobScope
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): In 2001, Mitzi Nichols of Virginia Beach anonymously donated one of her kidneys to a stranger. She got paid nothing for this rare act of generosity, and after recovering from surgery went
back to her job as a cashier at a gift shop. It took the universe three years to figure out a way to compensate her properly. This past June, she won $500,000 in the Virginia state lottery. I call this to your attention, Leo,
because I believe you're in a phase when your acts of no-strings-attached largesse will generate karma similar to what Nichols set in motion three years ago. Like her, however, your rewards may not arrive right away, and they might come from sources with no apparent link to the recipients of your kindness.
No way...you mean for once my acts of kindness won't get me a boot in my face for being naive enough to want to be helpful?
Wow.
Drunk-o-meter: Nah.
Mood: Blah-blah
Tuesday
Went to apply at PCC for the library assistant position.
I've always wanted to work in a library, hell--I'd do it for free. But I have bills.
I hope I don't come across as too eager.
"Familiar with the Dewey Decimal system? It's my best friend! I especially love browsing through the 130s and 400s...and the 510s...and the 940s...and don't get me started on the Library of Congress filing system. I'll be here all day!"
Ahem.
In other news, I'm spending more time with my adorable niece and nephew than I've ever had the chance.
Did I mention that I do not want children? I love 'em, but I don't want 'em.
Drunk-o-meter: I can't; I'm babysitting...okay, maybe just one...and one for the kids...*hic*
Mood: Not really.
Fragrance: Baby Oil and Spaghetti-O's
Just a Quick Note...
Landed on my feet here in Winter Haven. Staying with other sis for about a month...
Otherwise, I'm fine.
Drunk-o-meter: That's okay.
Mood: Normal
At Last...
Guess who's over? The worthless piece of crap known as my landlady's ex-husband. Interesting.
I was about to go grocery shopping this afternoon when I was told by above-mentioned that we had to be out of the house by Monday. Uh-huh. I was wondering when she was going to tell me. Oh well. I've been ready for this for a while.
Thank you! I will finally be free of her and free to start over!
See you guys on the other side.
Drunk-o-meter: Had a few last night. Slept like a baby.
Mood: Apprehension and relief
Something Rob and I Agree Upon...
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): I have nothing against Leo diva Jennifer Lopez, but I wouldn't normally recommend her as a role model for you. She's a bit chilly and remote and self-absorbed, whereas I always like to encourage you Leos to cultivate warmth and conviviality and generosity of spirit. But after seeing the magazine ad for Lopez's perfume, I'll make an exception. "In the eye of the storm," the text reads, "I am still Jennifer Lopez." Please adopt this for your own use in the coming week. Say to yourself ten times a day, "In the eye of the storm, I am still [your name here]."
I have everything against "diva" Jennifer Lopez, but whatever. And I'm sure it will be a relief to all of you to know that I will never come out with a perfume. :o)
Well, Rob...I will say it:
In the eye of the storm, I am still Your Name Here.
*snork*
Drunk-o-meter: Why not?
Mood: So-so
Post-Charley
I'm alive! I made it! I have power again...and a phone.
Hurricane Charley slammed into the west coast of Florida last Friday, then came right up Interstate 4. We (in Seminole County) got hit. Luckily, there wasn't a ton of damage where I was, and the house (including Florida room!) is still standing. The only casualty was the big old-fashioned satellite dish; it's on its side, and I can't get reception. Oh, well. I've had enough of the Weather Channel to last me a while...
The idiot with the locked door moved out the day of the storm, so I could get on with preparing the house.
Power went out around 9 or so Friday night, the phone (both lines) died Saturday morning. I was prepared, so I wasn't as bothered.
Power and phone were just restored last night. I did my laundry and jumped into the shower. My landlady is in the hospital, so I've had the house all to myself. Lovely peace and quiet.
I'm at the library, checking my email and it's dawned on me... I have got to check my voicemail when I get back home. I know there'll be a ton of messages.
Drunk-o-meter: None for me, thanks, I'm driving.
Mood: Relieved
Last Update for A While, I Fear
Well, it all came to a head yesterday. My other roomate (with whom I was supposed to move, blah-blah-blah) decided that he is going to move in with his gf after all.
Was I surprised? No.
But since there is a hitch in the selling of the house I'm in, that buys me more time.
Such a shame he doesn't know that. I wish I could tell him that.
I would have, too, but then something else happened.
I've been generously letting him use my phone line to get to the 'net, since that what I did.
He decided he didn't like the fact that I actually had to use my own phone yesterday so that I could make a bunch of calls to cover my ass over living arrangements.
Acting like a six-year-old child, he decided to move his computer (which I've been using) lock-stock-and-shooting-monkeys-in-a...to his gf's yesterday. He says he found his Outlook Express in the Recycle Bin and that (apparently) is incontrovertible proof that I did something to his computer. Like I'd waste my time.
Also, if I'd wanted to do something to his computer, it wouldn't be as obvious as deleting the LINK to Outlook Express. But the poor fool knows little to nothing about computers, so what do he expect?
Ooh, that showed me.
He's also decided to lock his room door. Uh, not cool. We need to get to the laundry room, and that's behind the locked door.
My landlady isn't too happy about that.
He can't say I didn't warn him.
Clever? Not particularly. Not to mention he loses points for style, execution, and intent. Proof that so-called Christians are fakes? Yes. Am I pissed? Not really. I don't care. His tactics don't work on people like me.
This isn't reflecting too well on his "god", either. Oh well, I suppose I'll see him in hell. If I believed it existed.
Drunk-o-meter: Sober.
Mood: Okay, I guess
Mars' Day
Your Sex Sign is Taurus!
Oh, yeah...good with the hands, lots of foreplay and caressing...stamina...AHEM.
Drunk-o-meter: Yes, please.
Mood: Yes, please.
Matrix Monday and Gripe
Out of sheer boredom, I'm watching the Matrix trilogy today + The Matrix Revisited.
I'm also brooding over my supposed move with my other roomate. First, it was supposed to be last Thursday, then last Saturday, now it's going to be this Saturday. I suppose that's what I get for putting my "faith" in a procrastinator with a bad memory.
The latest that he's spouting is that he only had two weeks' notice.
Uh, HELLO? I'm calling bullshit on this one. The reason? I'm the one who told him that our landlady is selling this house. I told him MID-JULY, nearly a month ago. I don't get it. He just decided to start looking when his rent was due. He claims that he was busy...ha! It doesn't matter: if you have to move, you have to move--busy or not. I had already told him plenty of time ahead of time that he'd have to move. I was planning on getting my own place, but then he made noises about sharing rent and my coming to work for him in his business. I said fine. I've been editting his damn book and training manual (which takes forever because he can't spell and his grammar is awful) and now when I ask him about that, he says he might get someone from the college to do it. Thanks for telling me...I doubt he would have told me if I didn't ask.
Another factor is his psychotic, jealous, Columbian girlfriend. He says she has a slight mental problem that flares up every four years. I say she's fucking insane and needs more treatment than just drugs. I just found out yesterday (after having packed most of my things btw) that if he can't find somewhere by this Saturday, he's just going to move in with her. He's already paying her rent, her bills, and her family's bills. WTF? She has a job, but apparently she doesn't get paid enough to afford where he's put her up. Plus, I suspect she works where she gets paid so little so that she can get food stamps and Medicaid.
Turns out this girlfriend of his is his--get ready for this one--EX-WIFE. And he claims they get along better now that they're not married. I suspect she'd only married him so that she could bring that family of her's here from Columbia. He's with her because he feels sorry for her and he hates to sleep alone. Puh-lease. It's called codependency. And I want no part of it.
He's already told me that she's jealous of all the time I spend in his room. Excuse me? That's where the computer is. I'm going to be able to fix mine pretty soon, and they won't see me at all after that. I also spend most of the day in here because my landlady has a habit of going through people's things (and I don't mean room cleanliness inspections, I mean to the tune of things missing, money missing, jewelry missing, vitamins and herbs missing, my fucking antidepressants missing--we had it out about that), so he asked me to keep an eye on his room. There's nothing going on between us. She can have him.
Anyway, we were supposed to go out Saturday morning and look around for a condo (he apparently is too good to live in an apartment), but his damn gf showed up Friday night, and I suppose he forgot. I confront him about it, and he gives me some lame-ass "I forgot" excuse. I don't think so, bucko. We had been planning it all week. But apparently he needs to move somewhere he likes. He should have thought about that before waiting so long to look around. Picky, picky, picky. And apparently my input doesn't count.
Another thing...last week was not good. I was stressed, I was moody, I was upset. Apparently that's not good for him. I'm not going to try to control my moods or fake it for anybody, I don't care who you are. He told me "he doesn't need the stress". Uh-huh, and your psycho ex-wife/girlfriend/whatever she is doesn't stress you out by calling you 24/7/365, yelling at you, going nuts over the smallest thing, etc? Riiiiiiiiiight. So you can take the nutjob, but you can't take someone having perfectly normal mood-swings (within the confines of my condition) that I WARNED YOU ABOUT?
I swear. I've about had it with everyone.
Drunk-o-meter: A stiff drink would be nice. I think I'll go make one...or two...
Mood: Pissed off
Watching
...it rain outside. Why is it when I plan to go somewhere these days, it rains? All day? Actually, the more it rains, the more cheerful I get. My mood worked up to so-so.
...the St. Anger Rehearsals DVD that came with the album. Kirk! And Lars' kit.
...myself post at The Anti-Madonna Board. It's my new favorite place to be on the Web.
Nothing much else happening, I'm afraid. I'm trying to come down from the month-long bad mood. My birthday has passed, and I'm trying to get over it.
Drunk-o-meter: Sobered Up.
Mood: So-so
War, Schmar
I don't agree with the reasons we were given for going to war. I don't agree with Dubya's myopic foreign policy (like he could spell that). I don't agree with Dubya at all.
I don't like this Kerry feller neither.
But I DO like this site: Protest Warrior. It reflects my disillusionment with the so-called "anti-war movement".
Mood Mood Moody
Waning moon has turned me into an emotional wreck. Lovely.
I have definitely not been myself this week (except for the drinking), and I don't know what's up.
Weird.
I think I'll go sleep this off.
I hate the Boomers! *hic*
I'm still attempting to drink. And my spell-check works.
What I Said Last Year
I decided to do a web search for things I hate: Madonna, Squash, then the Baby Boomer generation. Yeah, I know. Original.
The Worst Generation
Fake, plastic, self-absorbed, annoying, self-indulgent, melodramatic, selfish...I could go on. I can't wait for you to die.
I room with one. I can't wait until I move out. She is the biggest baby, the most spoiled brat, the most over-dramatic, fake idiot I've had the misfortune of coming across. She makes me want to puke. I have nothing to say to her. She doesn't seem to understand that world does not revolve around her and that the fuckin' 60s are over.
Draft the Baby Boomers!
Why Boomers Suck, or, commodify your self-loathing
Maybe when I'm more coherent I can address this further.
Fuck off.
Happ Birsday to Meeeee *hic*
27! I honestly can't believe I made it.
Yet another reason not to live in Alabama...
Time to reflect on my life. That means whiskey.
A quick check of the 365 Reasons to Get Loaded reveals that the comic strip Andy Capp debuted today in 1957. All riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!
Maybe I can discover religion again today. I'm gonna SEE God.
God-damnit!
I wonder if I can duplicate those ancient Greek wine recipes. If Alexander III of Macedon could conquer the world while guzzling gallons of it, then I can do karyoke.
It's all relative...
It seems that I'm not the only person confused about this...
Discussion around the electronic watercooler today centered on marriage laws...then someone brought up cousins and cousin marriage...
We're all clear about the cousin thing...offspring of your parents' siblings. But what the hell is a first cousin? I used to think that your first cousin was the offspring of your cousins...
Apparently not. Your cousin is your first cousin. Hmm.
Your second is descended from the same great-grandparent as you, but has different gradnparents.
(Example: I have a grand-niece. If my other nieces or nephews had children, they would be her second cousins--they would have the same great-grandparents, but different grandparents), and so on.
Now, this whole removed thing just means that you guys are of different generations. If your cousin had a kid, that kid would be your first cousin once removed.
Here's a chart.
Is anyone surprised that Florida allows cousin marriage? Or Alaska?
Robscope
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): In describing his creative process, novelist Jack Kerouac said, "The first thought is the best thought." When Allen Ginsberg was asked "What's the best advice you can give a poet?", he echoed Kerouac. On the other hand, Nobel Prize-winning writer William Butler Yeats constantly revised works he had already published, even fiddling with poems that were many years old. Pierre Bonnard was so committed to editing himself that "he was once caught trying to retouch one of his own paintings hanging on a museum wall," wrote poet Linh Dinh, who
concluded, "Last thought is the best thought." While there are valid arguments for both views, Leo, the astrological omens say your best bet for now is to go the way of Kerouac and Ginsberg.
Kerouac? Ginsberg? Road trip!
First thought.
Tuesday
Two more days until my birthday. Already! This year's just flying by.
The weather's turned stormy. I love storms. I love to hear the rain hitting the roof. I love to look at the deep bluish-gray of the clouds as they pour themselves onto the thirsty earth...
Whoa.
I'm out of here this weekend. I can't wait.
It's Magically...
Saturday, I did the bowling (and drinking) for charity thing. I had fun. Nasty hangover, though, from later on.
Moving on...
It's time for Foreign Language Thingy of the Week.
I can feel your excitement.
This week's language is Irish. It is the official language of the Irish Republic and has been the language of the island for over two millenia.
It looks like this:
Smaointe...
Éist le mo chroí,
Go brónach a choích'
Tá mé caillte gan tú
's do bhean chéile.
An grá mór i do shaoil
Treoraí sé mé.
Bígí liomsa i gcónaí
Lá 's oích'.
Curfá:
Ag caoineadh ar an uaigneas mór
Na deora, go brónach
'Na gcodladh ins an uaigh ghlas chiúin
Faoi shuaimhneas, go domhain.
Aoibhneas a bhí
Ach d'imigh sin
Sé lean tú
Do fhear chéile.
An grá mór i do shaoil
Treoraí sé mé.
Bígí liomsa i gcónaí
Lá 's oích'.
Curfá
Smaointe, ar an lá
'Raibh sibh ar mo thaobh
Ag inse scéil
Ar an dóigh a bhí
Is cuimhin liom an lá
Gan ghá 's gan ghruaim
Bígí liomsa i gcónaí
Lá 's oích'.
Translation:
A Thought...
Listen to my heart,
Forever sad
I'm lost without you
and your wife.
The great love in your lives
Will guide me.
Be (plural) with me always
Day and night.
Chorus:
Weeping due to the great loneliness
The tears, sorrowfully
Asleep in the quiet green grave
In a deep peace.
There was blissfulness
But that is gone
You followed
Your husband.
The great love in your lives
Will guide me.
Be with me always
Day and night.
Chorus
A thought, on the day
You were (both) at my side
Telling tales
Of how things were.
I remember the day
Carefree and happy
Be with me always
Day and night.
(Translation and lyrics taken from this site.)
(Yes, it's by Enya. I happen to love this song, so shut up.)
It sounds like this. (I'm singing the curfa, if you want to follow along).
Slán.
John, John, John...and SEAN
We Are Here to Make America Stronger
Above is linked the transcript of Senator Kerry's Democratic Party Nomination Acceptance speech. What did I think of it? This speech didn't take me any steps closer to voting for him, though. Nice try. Call me jaded, cynical, whatever--not fooled, hardly even impressed.
In other news:
"Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy BIRTHDAY dear SEAN,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"
My favorite Manic Street Preacher and soulmate (the meme said so), Sean Anthony Moore turns 36 today.
Happy birthday, you magnificent bastard!
Coming next: Foreign Language Thingy of the Week.
This is it...
Tonight is the final evening of the Democratic National Convention. I've been falling asleep to the coverage every night over radio (I have developed an aversion to television for some reason recently).
Tonight's the night for Kerry to accept the Democratic Party nomination. This ought to be rivetting.
Here's what Vice-Presidential Nominee John Edwards had to say last night. I kept falling asleep. How much ass-kissing can this guy do? I should have thought of counting. I would have stayed awake.
Is it just me, or are the Democrats stuck in the past?
I know they're trying to avoid negativity and Vush-bashing, but do they have to take it back to the damn
1960s? Since they've decided to pretend that they're not bashing Bush, I've found someone who is willing to do so. And he isn't faking it.
And the next time I hear Teresa Heinz Kerry talk about her late husband (who died like 20 YEARS AGO), I'm going to puke. That's just bad form. I can understand having good memories and shit, but why do it IN PUBLIC in front of your CURRENT HUSBAND? I'm telling you, there's something wrong with her.
Speaking of wives, I'm so happy to see that the media considers me a Soccer Mom from Peoria since I apparently will be voting based on the candidates' wives. Thank you so fucking much for dictating my taste to me and saving me the trouble of thinking. Why don't you just stick to pestering the bloggers at the DNC like you have been doing?
Slate makes a good point: Why won't the Democrats talk about Judges? I wonder about this simply because (like many Americans) I still feel shafted by the 2000 Election. You realize that it was the partisan-as-hell Supreme Court that put Dubya in office, don't you?
Hmmm...I've got more news in my Inbox. Aye-yai.
In personal news, I'm moving! I'm escaping my landlady and her psychotic current husband (she has who-knows-how-many exes). I'll be out of here on my birthday. You may be seeing my mood lightening up as being stuck here is one of the reasons I've been so depressed. It's a long, ugly story, but I'll finally be able to live somewhere where cleanliness is a priority; where I don't have to feel like I'm being spied upon every time I speak to someone on the phone; where I can just relax without feeling like my every move is scrutinized. It will be a great burden lifted from my shoulders. As for the job situation, right now I'm helping my roomate with his business, and helping to edit his latest manual. This is ruling. Things are looking up as I'm making a fresh start.
THERE's an Idea...
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): From an astrological perspective, it's a perfect time to order a custom-made action figure that looks and talks like you. You'd really benefit from having a miniature version of yourself to play with. You could dress it in superhero costumes, fantasize scenarios in which it pulls off epic feats, and use it to help you escape the imaginary constraints that have been inhibiting you lately. But getting a doll of yourself is expensive, and there are other ways that would probably work just as well to free up your bold, adventurous spirit. Maybe you could write a short story starring you as a daredevil or pioneer. Or how about embarking on a series of strenuous physical activities that will awaken your dormant reserves of willpower? If nothing else, create a sock puppet of yourself.
This could mean the triumphant return of Sockie! It's Arts 'n' Crafts time!
hehe
Surprise, Surprise...
This is getting old. I'm in a mood again. Lovely.
I'm looking forward to moving away from here. My other roomate and I are just a little tired of the drama of my landlady and her husband (that she married after only knowing the guy for 28 days. Hint: Large house on a lake, the golddigging bitch). Finally, I'll be able to get some peace.
Waiting for some holds at the library, including a new cocktail bible from which I can learn some new libations, explore new drinking territory, and...and...if I like it, then I'll head over to Borders and plunk down the cash.
I think I put in a Michael Jackson book--Michael Jackson the alcoholic, er, beverage expert, that is.
Damn, I need a drink.
Attention Trendy Wannabe Conspiranoiacs:
I understand how easily-distracted you trendy types are, so I'll try to be brief.
I am sick of you trying to explain how The Da Vinci code is some kind of revelation about the true bloodlines of Jesus and how we've been lied to by the Church all these centuries. I've read the fucking book way before you idiots had even heard about it. I've done my research into this area. The speculation isn't new. I don't need a tutorial from you.
If this book is the basis for your born-again paranoia, then I've got some never-before-seen pictures smuggled from the Philedelphia Experiment at great personal peril--sorry, danger-- that I'd like you to take a look at.
It is a novel. NOV-EL. NOVEL! Look closely at the front of the book. It says it. A novel is a WORK OF FICTION.
The next one of you who corners me at the library and starts on this wlll have your head forcefully introduced to some real books on religion in the 300's.
Now, shut up!
Alexander the Great: World Conquerer...
or Male Model?
(Evidence stolen from here, here, here, and here)
Studio Portraiture...
"That's it, Alex. Give us that vulnerable look. You're a fierce and mighty warrior, but you need a cuddle."
*clink clink* That's it, Alex. *clink clink clink* You're feeling introspective. *clink* Really introspective. You just want to be alone with your thoughts. Just turn a little more--there you go. Now, don't move! *crash* Oh, dear...Callisto, could you get the some of the slaves to bring in another block? I've chistled a crack in this one...
Sorry, Alex. Would you like something to drink? Melania, dear, please fetch some wine...
Action Shots...On the Road
"Uh, the mosaic guys asked me if you could move that body back where it was? They couldn't quite capture it. Your Majesty, could you look this way, please, just a little? Thank you."
On back: "Please send wine and cookies. Thanks, Mom.
AlexIII"
Man of State...
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Over here! Sire! Sire! Who are you wearing?" "Metaneira of Macedonia!"
"King Darius, King Alexandros; King Alexandros, King Darius."
"It is an honor...*whispers* he doesn't seem to be moving."
"He appears to be dead, Sire."
"Well, there goes the State Visit. What now?"
"His family must be notified. We will have to stay to attend the funeral."
"No, *you* have to stay for the funeral. This King's going to go commune with Dionysus. Companion Bodyguard! You guys comin'?"
Candid...
Just between us, he was always a Mama's Boy...
Younger Days: "Mom says I gotta cut my hair...bummer."
Damn. Damn, Damn, Damn!
How is a girl supposed to just enjoy the music and the drum styles of one Sean Anthony Moore of the Manic Street Preachers when he keeps making faces like this?
How's a girl supposed to keep her objectivity? How's she supposed to just pay attention to the musicianship when he keeps looking like that?
Bastard.
Sober Saturday...
...and not happy about it.
But to make it slightly better, Reeves was at Comic Con and there's nice coverage all over the Web about it.
John Constantine (Con-stan-TYNE, being the good little Anglophile that I am)--chain-smoking, bitter, magician. Too bad, Keanu isn't playing it blond, but then again...it would have seemed a tad fantastic.
I know, a fantastic movie; how redundant. If you don't get it look it up.
I'll just put this up and leave it at that:
Otherwise...
I'm in pigtails today. I went to the gas station and had two guys and the cashier ask me out. I went to pick up a library book, and had three old men watching every move I made. I guess there is something to this "innocent look" Snakes supposedly sport.
Go figure.
Liberal Media?
House Strips Federal Courts of Jurisdiction Over Same Sex Marriage
Of course. The Republicans, trying to distract us from the limited intelligence, outlook, and tolerance of their "President", voted in the so-called Marriage Protection Act. I'm not surprised. They were sour-grapes after it didn't pass in the Senate last week.
Babies. I hope you're happy. You just lost some votes for your guy. But considering how much you hate gays, I'm sure you don't care.
The Late, Great States
I think the Republicans should change the party name. The Grand OLD Party isn't as appropriate anymore. Maybe something along the lines of the Velvet Rope Party. Oh, wait--that would be the Democrats.
Teaching Torture
You don't have to be a conspiranoiac to know what the School of the Americas is. I may not be a big fan of groups like Amnesty International, but it seems as if they are of the few who want to point out this place for what it is. Rep. Jim McGovern (how interesting, a D) had legislation to kill funding SOA withdrawn at the eleventh hour. Interesting. We can vote to limit the rights of American citizens but we can't protect the rights of those who are at the mercy of the "graduates" of this "fine institution".
Harnessing Hollywood
Hey, I liked your movie/song/album/play/painting/book. I don't give a shit about your politics or opinions.
Figures. This is the country where thinking for yourself brands you as a subversive. Can I get a BAAAAAAAAAA?
In Praise of Unruly Women
Wannabe muckraker Arianna Huffington praises Teresa Heinz Kerry as "one of the most flavorful and compelling public figures to hit the national stage in decades". Uh, no. She's a flake. Pure and simple. A flake. She's direct, she's outsopken...she's a nut-case. Shut up, already. I'm not a feminist, and I'm not going to praise a woman just for being outspoken--she actually has to have something of substance to say. "Ms." Heinz Kerry doesn't, in my opinion.
Friday *Comes* Early
In an attempt to pull myself out of this funk without the use of alcohol, I'm rereading
The Sexual Life of Catherine M. It was so good that I'm reading it again.
The Complete Kama Sutra trans by Alain Danielou. Unabridged unillustrated.
Justine, Philosophy in the Bedroom, and Other Writings by the Divine Marquis
Lady Chatterley's Lover by my boy, D.H. Lawrence. Yes, again. This book is the reason I love being in the rain so much...but that's another story.
Sex, alcohol, black moods...I should be a professional writer.
Gettin' All Creative and Stuff...
Keanu Reeves turns the big 4-0 September 2.
I made a birthday page for his virtual card.
Woo.
In other news, ebloggy's been up and down and down and down and down. I'm starting to lose my patience.
My birthday's getting closer, and I'm unravelling more and more. Oh, the anxiety. And I'm only going to be 27. I wish I were 30.
In Denial
LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): You'll be glad to know you're coming to the end of the Suffering Season. If you've made it through these past few weeks with your sense of humor intact, you now have cosmic permission to give
yourself a big shiny reward. To make the best of these last few days, carry Henry Miller's declaration around with you: "Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate, or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems painful can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such."
Right.
Depression is an infinite source of joy and beauty for me. Can't you tell?
*choked up*
Today is not a good day...listening to The Walkmen's "We've Been Had" over and over again...feeling like I'm going to cry...it's that damn piano
Today's the anniversary of Bruce Lee's death in 1973, but that's not why I'm sad.
Today is also the anniversary of The Apollo Moon Landing, but that isn't it...
Frankly, I'm stumped. *sniff*
Smoking Gun-day
After the seriousness of my foreign language entry, I had to plug The Smoking Gun. This site never disappoints.
We have some winners here in Florida. Sometimes living here is a laugh riot. Especially since the 2000 Election debacle.
Martha's Charity While I agree that this whole Martha Stewart thing is overblown--because the SEC couldn't have been investigating Enron, or Tyco, or that desired merger between Sprint and MCI, you know, serious breaches of policy and the law--I think that this is hilarious. Hey, everyone--let's try that if we ever face a prison sentence and see what happens. The no to Martha was more than likely polite; the no towards the broke masses would be the slam of the cell door and the harsh laughter of the guard as he strolls away.
Well...there went my attempt at lightening up.
Monday, Monday
It's that time again. Since this may be proceeding with some regularity, I think I'll rechristen it:
Foreign Language Thingy of the Week.
This week's language is Sanskrit. Sanskit is part of the Indo-Iranian subfamily of the Indo-European Language Family.
Though Sanskrit is classified as nearly dead as a spoken language, it is still studied widely as a written language.
The Vedas, Bhagavad-Gita, Kama Sutra, and other renowned classical Indian texts were originally written in Sanskrit.
It looks like this: 
The audio of this text is linked below.
Given translation: O Arjuna, offering sacrifice in knowledge is superior to offering sacrifice of material possessions; O subduer of enemies, all fruitive activities come to an end entirely by knowledge.
Bhagavad Gita 4:33
(The ASI has a neat mouseover Sanskrit alphabet.
Roll your mouse over the letter, and it gives you a transliteration.)
It sounds like this. The audio sample is
from this Bhagavad Gita site.
For more info and links to Sanskrit resources (as well as other languages I've featured), cast thine eyes leftward to the blogroll, label 'lang'.
Pushing Cynic and the Return of Stern
I'm buzzing, but still coherent, so I'm posting before I go finish getting hammered. Let's see...Chicken and vodka for dinner while listening to Sound Opinions, followed by drunken bellowing along with WJRR's Extreme Saturday Night, topped off with snoozing to Beatle Brunch and Car Talk tomorrow morning.
714 Things to be Cynical About
And yes...I own a copy of The Cynic's Dictionary.
Cynic Hall of Fame
No, Howard Stern isn't on the list. If anything, he belongs in the Whiner Hall of Fame lately. He's coming back to radio in Orlando this coming Monday, but not on my favorite station. Finally, Real Radio will have some competition in the mornings...maybe. Considering what I've been hearing and reading in my attempts to keep up with the show, I don't think I'll be tuning in. I was not that crazy about his leaving our market at first, but I've moved on. Every so often, I listen to O-Rock. I like the station, but I couldn't stand those idiots, Keith and Tony, that they had on in the mornings.
It'll be interesting to see who comes out on top.
Of course, for those of you who were calling WTKS and threatening never to listen again once Stern comes back, fine. We don't care. That just leaves more entertainment for those of us with a maturity level over the age of ten. There will also be a marked decline in mouth-breathers which means that I will actually be able to hear better. That's right; run to your little "martyr", and vote for Kerry just because he told you to do so. Don't actually do your homework or research the guy's political record to see what he's all about. Just listen to someone (who KNOWS better) who feels targetted because he can't make dick jokes before 10AM anymore. You all are acting as if Kerry's the magic cure-all for the FCC ills.
And the more I learn about him (and that nut-baggy-space-case-attention-grabbing wife of his), the less I want to vote for him. I don't want Bush, but I certainly don't want Kerry.
In answer to the question of for whom I'm voting, I already told you: Budweiser Ferret. In response to those who say I'm throwing away my vote I say: and voting the party line isn't?
For the Weekend
Which Rat Pack Member are You? brought to you by <a href="http://www.moderndrunkardmagazine.com">Modern Drunkard</a>.
I need a drink.
Friday Free-Fall
CNN alert: Montana Plans Gay Marriage Vote
Don't give up, do they?
I've been listening to this blowhard, every night after Phil Hendrie. I find myself agreeing with him on some things. He's right about the non-existent difference between the parties in this country. I'm all for making immigrants learn English...every other country of the world expects that you learn their language (and this I do not mind--I would gladly do so), so why is it un-PC to insist the same for the US of A? We're not asking you to lose your language and culture, we're asking you to learn the language of business in this country--which is English--to communicate with the majority of people here.
I do have a problem with his nostalgia for the '50s that he was doing the other night. Let's hear it for conformity and (unsaid, but implied) minorities and women who knew their place.
Also, I'm in a month-long bad mood that will culminate on my birthday (Aug 5). I get like this every year. And just as I'm settling into it, here comes the damn new moon in the ultra-moody, ultra-bitchy sign of Cancer. Shoot me now. I think the indigos are back.
I realized something last night. I could kill people. Easily. And not feel bad about it. That's why I'm in therapy. That's why I'm on the 'pro. Not because I'm afraid of what I'll do to me, but what I'd do to YOU.
Be grateful, pigs. I'm doing this for you.
And, finally, It's all a fuckin' lie! Why am I not surprised?
Slate-Off
What Did Bush Know?
Lost Letters of a Great Leader
And for harmless fun: Red or Blue Which are You? I came out a little red.
Awww...The GOP leaders don't get their way
Senate Rejects Move to Ban Same-Sex Marriage.
That's just terrible. And if I hear one more time about "the children" and how this damages or confuses them, I'm coming up there with a pipe wrench.
You're just going to have to come up with another distraction tactic. Better make it good. Some of us aren't fooled.
Because I Could, eh?
Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, this is it.
Presidential Morality
Dubya quote: " I do not need to explain why I say things. That's the interesting thing about being the president. Maybe somebody needs to explain to me why they say something, but I don't feel like I owe anybody an explanation."
It doesn't matter. Having the D or R doesn't matter. They're all the same. What's the point?
You wonder why my outlook is BLEAK?
I need to go lie down.
Budweiser Ferret in 2004. Write-in.
Ummm-Hmmm
I know this story broke last week, and I've been seething about it ever since.
I told you so.
Damnit, I hate it when I'm right about things like this.
I had a sneaking suspicion that this would happen. I knew that something like this might happen. I had a feeling that the Bush Regime Administration would try to distract us from business at hand with this little tactic.
We all remember what happened in Spain, right? People died, election subsequently influenced? Troops pulled out?
"Uh, yeah--we don't know when or where or how...or anything, really. But our intelligence suggests that there may be a chance of something happening."
Right--like when the intelligence suggested that armed terrorists would attack us and knock down the WTC using airplanes...and they'd go after the Pentagon and the White House to boot?
Don't think I'm leaving ol' Billy Clinton out of this, neither. He wasn't ignorant to the threat, he was just too busy distracting us from the fact that he can't keep it in his pants...and trying to appear more conservative than the Conservatives...by blowing up random thrid-world countries.
How convenient--let's suspend the election and buy some time for the Administration to pull something else.
"Hey, we found Osama! Now you can go to the polls."
Lying bastards.
*throwing horns*
You know what that means: It's time for
*echo*Foreign Language Thingy of the Whenever *echo*
You love it. You know you do. You can't live without it.
Today's language is Coptic. Copic is the final stage of Egyptian writing and, it refers more to the writing than the language. It was a way to write down the Egyptian language after Christianity spread to Egypt, and is still the language of Egyptian Christians. It consists of simplified Greek characters.
It looks like this:
Translation: I beheld the earth, and, lo, it was without form and void; and the heavens, and they had no light. I beheld the mountains, and, lo, they trembled, and all the hills are moved. I beheld, and, lo, there was no man, and all the birds of the heavens were fled. I beheld, and, lo, the fruitful place was a wilderness, and all the cities thereof were broken down at the presence of the Lord, and by his fierce anger. Jeremiah 4:23-26
It sounds like this.
The sample is from Psalm 50, part of chanting the agpeya ("hours"). You can find the translation and more Coptic audio here. They're all .mp3s, as I couldn't find any .wav files.
Though I'm not Christian, I'm still touched by their faith. And the chanting is really pretty.
Sinday...
Am currently reading The Sexual Life of Catherine M.
She has been compared to Sade, and I have to agree. She is as unapologetically erotic as he was. Her prose is concise, she makes no excuses, has no regrets. She was the way she was, and that's it.
My kind of woman.
Follow-er Up
And, because I am such am idiot for these things...
But he's not mine, he's ours.
Grapes...uuuum...
Knew it...
It's Official: I'm a Follower.