Things that fall under the "It's not right" category:

Men with bigger boobs than me.

This can be fat or muscle; I'm not picky.

Today at work this muscley dude came in and I couldn't help staring at his man boobs. I think perhaps he favored working out his pectoral muscles more than anything else- the rest of him wasn't so burly. But there on his chest are two big muscley man boobs. It occurs to me that they are, in fact, bigger than mine (which are small, so it's not freakishly difficult to accomplish).

I'm just saying, it seems to go against the laws of nature.

Please, men of the world, I have enough women to feel inadequate standing next to, I really don't require any more chest challenges to deal with during the course of my day.
Work with me. Seriously. Throw me a friggin bone, here.

buttcheese

Dude.
I use the term buttcheese a lot. Usually it is a term of jovial endearment. Sometimes it is a polite way to show distaste.
But never have I meant it in the way that urbandictionary.com means it.
Just so we're clear on that.
Ok.

Crazyland update:

The boss let me CLEAN today. I mean, part of the office. You know, where no one is allowed to tread (with cleaning supplies anyway).
I am excited and optimistic now.
There may be a light at the end of the purgatory tunnel. We'll see, we'll see.

even dogs get put down

I'm reading this article from the Asheville Citizen Times about this guy who killed a mother and her two children, ages 16 and 10. (The link is above, should you want to read it yourself.) I remember when this happened.

Now the link in AC-T's website says "ASHEVILLE - Prosecutors cited a killer's low intelligence test score in their decision not to pursue the death penalty against an Asheville man charged with stabbing to death a mother and her two daughters." To which I was outraged and thought, How fucking low does your intelligence have to be for you to not understand that killing people is not ok?!?!

I read the article. It says his IQ is below 70. I tell this to Mr. Wonderful who says, "Well, an IQ of 60 makes you smarter than an dog...." (but not by much) and I exclaim, "Even a DOG gets put down for killing people! Hell, dogs get put down for even BITING people!"

Is it fair of me to compare people to dogs? Is it fair for me to imply even retarded people should be put to death? Frankly, I don't give a crap. I don't care how retarded he is. He broke into a house and stabbed a mother and her two children to death. Intelligence levels be damned.

Let the mother fucker burn.

Crazyland update:

I AM AFRAID.

Somehow, in the last few days, my boss has started to make some sense. I am assuming this means I have lost my mind and can now understand/comprehend the lunacy.

I'm sure they will be taking me away soon. I hear it's nice there. Please send fresh socks. Fuzzy fresh socks.
Thank you.

We walk on frosted ground praising chrysanthemums bordering fields; sit on the edge of the woods waiting for the moon to rise. Not having to be alone is happiness; we do not talk of failure or success.

-Chia Tao, "When I Find You Again, It Will Be In Mountains"

Latest search to pull up my blog:

"How to quit watching porn".

Hmm, yes.
Also, someone looked up my blog with the search word "shooting". I am very curious as to why. Hmmm.

Forming a new world religion is difficult and not particularly desirable. However, in that love is essential to all religions, one could speak of the universal religion of love.

-His Holiness the Dalai Lama

Crazyland update:

So the only other woman at work that I thought was worth a rats ass informs me today that she walks out the door with stuff all the time. As in, steals it. I was like, "Oh." So apparently I truly am the only person who isn't lifting shit.
It really disturbs me to be surrounded by this crap.
On another note, I got to actually carry on conversations with Mr. Crazypants today. Ok, they were mostly discombobulated, but some made sort of sense. I mostly spent the say standing next to the computer making maps from mapquest. Yah, STANDING next to the computer. I would have sat down, but both stools were covered in papers and crap.
Ugh.
I realized after a while that my feet were swollen.
I wonder why I'm cranky?

Whiny moment: I want a nap. A 2 1/2 day nap.

Bad Buddhist

Last night I was thinking about Buddhism. I was also naked in the shower, but that point seems extraneous. Anyway, I was thinking about how I've half-assed studied Buddhism for years (read: I have some books and I read some stuff about it sometimes) but I still don't call myself a Buddhist. The reason being? I view myself as a bad Buddhist. I can't seem to grasp some basic concepts and constantly freak out and stress out over stupid shit, and that's really not very Buddhist at all. I can't say I know any neurotic monks, you know? So I feel incapable of it and I get frustrated. I get discouraged and drop it for a while, then try again.
Well, I've been dropping it and trying again for over 10 years now. And I'm currently trying again since Mr. Wonderful is a Buddhist. Having a Buddhist around seems more congruent than trying to accomplish Buddhist theory while surrounded by alcoholics. Yes. So, I got to thinking about how I am a bad little Buddhist and how my claiming to be a bad Buddhist is just punishment for myself. Seeing as how Buddhism is more a journey than a destination (unless you view enlightenment as a destination...), telling myself I am inadequate is ridiculous and counterproductive. Like, maybe it's just something to distract myself with.
Hmmm.


On a side note: I have been really pissed off and irritated since starting this job. I think it's not so much the job as it is not getting to be alone, ever.
Sometimes I wish I could just enter a monastery and have quiet guidance.
I want to find the answers. I don't like being constantly distracted. But perhaps that is all part of my lesson.
If so, that blows.
(***raspberries***)

Thoughts on thievery:

More specifically, about my ability to steal things left and right from work, and yet I refrain.
I have blogged recently about how my boss is a lunatic and annoying as bloody hell. A confusing pile of walking irksomeness. Yah, I made up a word just for him. Oh, ok, it's already a word. Well, shit. Anyway, this man is high maintenance, the job is futile, and it pays for crap. But I was looking for a job and then I found a job ("Heaven knows I'm miserable now....") so there you go. I took it. I may not keep it. God I ramble tonight- sorry, I'm really tired.
At any rate, I have noticed how incredibly easy it would be to rob this man left and right, and I'm sure the majority of his employees do... And today I decided to just keep track of how much money went through the register (although nothing gets typed in, you just open the drawer) and you could just pocket it, there's no receipts, no inventory to ever notice what's missing.... I mean, it's nuts.
So today:
$230
that I didn't steal. But easily could have.
I want kudos here people. Sometimes good karma just isn't enough.

Greater in battle
than the man who would conquer
a thousand-thousand men,
is he who would conquer
just one--
himself.

-Dhammapada, 8, translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu.

Crazyland update:

Ok. Today I show up for work and find some other new guy waiting. I can see he is confused, since no one else is there, yet the the sign clearly says "OPEN". Mmm, yes. Lights off, door locked, but Open. Ok. I pull up, walk to the door to make sure no one is there, and go back to the truck. I read for an hour. I watch another employee ride up on her bike, and then ride off. But I wait, so I can feel justified for getting paid to read a book (because you bet I'm counting that time, yessiree).
I don't bother to talk to anyone, because what would I say? Hi, you don't really speak English, no I don't know where he is, no , I don't know what time he's coming back, no, I don't know why we're having this conversation. Sounds like a dull talk. So, I refrain. The guy finally drives away. I wait some more, than decide I may chew off my own foot. I leave. I go home and call and leave a message for him to call me when he gets in. I realzie even his phone message sounds insane. Ugh.
Finally at noon I call him and he says he's never checked the messages on that phone is 5 years. (*blink*) Seems like it would kinda full by now, but ooooook Mr. Crazypants. He says he tried to call me but he couldn't find my application (which I stole last week since it's sitting next to the cash register with everyone else's application, where, you know, anyone could steal the whole stack and have an identity theft PARTY with them all...all those social security numbers and what not).
Idiot.
So he asks if I still want to come in. I had the last 3 hours to think about it, and while I want to vomit at the idea of being there, the thought of sitting around my house and running all over town going crazy to FIND a job seems somehow WORSE. I go in.
Today, of all days, he seems somewhat sane. That is to say, he actually managed to carry on 3 seperate paragraph long conversations with me (a first!). He also gave me my own key to the store and showed me how to work the security alarm.
Uhhhh...ok.

I'm thinking it's not that he's crazy. This man is tweaked out on drugs, and maybe today he did less.
I don't know.
I got shit to do- more musings later.

HOOTERS

At work Friday, I was talking to the cable guy about Hooters. Seems he had just eaten there for lunch. He was trying to tell me that "Women think that the whole reason men go there is to look at the girls, but that's not it!" and I laughed. I told him it was the same principal at work when women like to go to nice restaurants. We go for atmosphere. Hooters: men go for atmosphere. Maybe not to outright ogle the chicks, but you bet you're sweet ass the ass is why they go. I said to him, "Well, it's cheaper than nice restaurants so you're still coming out on top, " to which he replied, "No, it's not cheaper! I just dropped $20 on lunch, and didn't even drink a beer!" That was the icing on the cake for me.
Ok, let's clarify: working class men do not want to spend $20 on lunch (unless there's at least 4 beers included). The only way you are going to get a blue collar guy to spend THAT kind of cash on a freaking sandwich is to involve T&A.
And most restaurants are a gamble as to whether or not their waitress is gonna be hot. Hooters is a pretty much sure bet.
So, to reiterate:
Any man who says he goes to Hooters but it has nothing to do with the nearly naked girls may not be lying...but he definitely hasn't thought it through.

I mean, would he have blown that much on an ugly waitress at Applebees? I doubt it. And the owners of Hooters are fucking genius. Anyone who has been to a strip club knows that there's something about a nice rack that makes a man forget about the size of his wallet and just spend spend spend.
Brilliant.


Side note on strip clubs: it's sad. It's sad to watch a guy spend $50 on 6 minutes of a chick shaking her ass in front of his face and he gets nothing. I mean, it's $50 dude. You should at least get a blow job for $50. Don't be such a sucker.
I went to school with a girl that stripped. She said she viewed the guys as walking talking ATM's. Yet the guys were so in love with her. Very sad. Ok, pathetic.

so darn witty!

today at the beach:

I see this strange grouping. Quite unusual. I do believe it is a rare sighting of the North American Pot Bellied Speedos. These looked to be all older in age, but still involved in the complex and bizarre mating rituals.
I have researched it greatly and can not come up with any more information on this species. I am somewhat relieved.
That is all.

bumper sticker update:

There's honest advertising for you.

On the way to the grocery store, I drove past work. I totally wanted to roll down the window and scream, "You're a total freakin lunatic!" at the top of my lungs. Which would have been funny, you know, cause I would have looked like the crazy one.

It's happening already.....

We're babyitting for our neighbors and the baby is asleep in one arm while I type with the other. He really is beautiful and fat and perfect. So much so that I think I should go eat the entire pack of birth control pills in the cupboard.

jet noise x a bajillion

You know, it's usually pretty noisy around here. When you live near a base, you hear a lot of jets and stuff. I have, in previous blogs, bitched about the noise.

I take back everything I said. That was not horribly noisy. I have now discovered what truly loud jet noise is and it's a Super Hornet.

This weekend is the Oceana Naval Air Show. The last three days, Super Hornets have been flying over our house. They aren't just loud; they break the sound barrier. You don't hear them coming. You hear the sound barrier crack open like a overripe cantaloupe filled with explosives. Then you notice the Super Hornet, which is already out of sight.

THAT is loud.

How fast these things go isn't just audible my friends. You can actually SEE it happen. I did manage to see one out the front window this morning as it came in very very fast and I SAW it do that thing it does. What the hell it is, I don't know. It's beyond my scientific grasp, but it's like the physical manifestation of the sound barrier being broken. It was so awesome I just gaped out the window after it was gone, my poor feeble mind blown and could only come up with was, "Dude."



(This picture, although I didn't take it, is an accurate portrayal of how close this thing is, visually, to my house. It's like, right up There. No shit.)

F/A-18 Super Hornet Tactical Demonstration

The US Navy's F/A-18E/F Super Hornet is an all-weather strike fighter aircraft that performs fighter escort, fleet air defense, force projection, interdiction, and close air support. An upgrade of the F/A-18C/D Hornet, the Super Hornet is 25 percent larger and offers longer range, greater endurance, increased weapon- and fuel-carrying ability along with improved survivability and the capacity for future growth. This will mark the first-ever performance of the Super Hornet Tactical Demonstration at NAS Oceana.


Ka-blam.

dude! that's what I've been saying....

A layman who has chosen to practice this Dhamma should not indulge in the drinking of intoxicants. He should not drink them nor encourage others to do so, realizing that it leads to madness. Through intoxication foolish people perform evil deeds and cause other heedless people to do likewise. He should avoid intoxication, this occasion for demerit, which stupefies the mind, and is the pleasure of foolish people.

-Sutta Nipata

bumper sticker update:

latest searches to pull up my blog:

"honk if you don't exist"

"huge abnormal tits"

Those go together so nicely, too, you know?

Omission, part II

Just as I'm posting about omission I am talking to Mr. Wonderful on the phone. He says he's working late. I remind him to eat something. He says not to worry, he still has his lunch....and starts to trail off...then brightly finishes with "We all went to Rally's!" My hackles raise. "We all? The whole gang went?" I ask. "Well, me and Lisa," he says.
Speaking of omission.....
nice.
I mean, that was not even omission. "We ALL?" All two of us?
And he used the same tone my X used to use when he was covering shit up.
That's a great way to make me want to vomit.

.....the phone rings......

It's him. He says he can hear me grumbling (we have a psychic thing). He asks why, I tell him because he's being a wiener. He asks why and I tell him. He apologizes and says he was nervous to tell me about it because he's already staying late and the last time he hung out with one of the girls he works with I was really upset. I was still in Asheville, it was awkward....he never did anything wrong, it's just certain things set me off and that night set off about 4 different fires in my poor overtaxed brain. He's been careful not to push my buttons since then. I appreciate it.
I tell him I don't care if he has lunch with Lisa (she has a boyfriend, otherwise I may care a lot more). Although I am irked that I made him food....harumph! But it is just leftovers... At any rate, I tell him I am not annoyed that he would go eat with his co worker (they used to go eat together before I flipped out on him that time) I am annoyed that he's acting suspicious. He says he was worried I would be upset. Not so worried he wouldn't go eat with her.
This feeling makes me sick.
~long pause~
I don't want him to worry. I don't want to worry. I don't want to have to microscopicly analyze everything a person says and does to decipher if there is some evil intent I need to be aware of.
That's no way to live.
I know, I've tried.
~pause~
I just want us to be cool, have friends, have trust, and be in love.
You know, be happy.

Baby, just tell me the truth without being nervous that I will freak out.
And I, in turn, will do my best to not freak out.
Ok?

For many years I have tried to decipher what the truth was so that I could deal with it. I never did get it. Always some bizarre twisted version of it. I know I'm fucked up. I know I'm hard to deal with. I know sometimes I freak out over small things because I'm afraid they are a sign of something larger that I haven't yet discovered. The fact is, in the past, they always were.
Suspicion sucks.

Omission

Back at crazyland.
Note from today:

I clean the bathroom. I still wouldn't pee in there, having seen the filth before I cleaned it...I doubt any amount of bleach could wipe that from my memory.
Within 10 minutes of me cleaning it, someone had pissed all over the seat. Not like a few drops, but a puddle of yellow pee on the toilet seat. Seeing as how Crazypants (the boss) is the only man there, and there is only him, me, and the other girl, it pretty well narrows down the possibilities. A few minutes later he compliments me on cleaning the bathroom. I look at him and say, "Yah, so how about you stop peeing on the seat?" He says, "What? I never pee on the seat! I 'm the only one who has ever cleaned that bathroom until now! I clean it like, 5 times a day!"

>insert I-hope-weasels-slowly-gnaw-off-your-penis expression from me<

That bathroom has quite possibly NEVER been cleaned. The grime on the floor was revolting (I'm not ever getting into the grime elsewhere...). Dude. Customers use this bathroom! How stupid can one man BE?
Plus, he is trying to imply someone else did it, when there is no one there to have done it but him. Also, if he thinks I'm buying the "I clean it 5 times a day" gag, he's insane....oh, wait. Yah. But he hit my number one pet peeve: Treating me as if I'm stupid. I'm guessing he's actually so stupid he really thought I would buy that. And that's sad. Stupidly sad.

10 minutes later he's talking to a customer, maybe 20 feet away. The phone rings. He has a radar for this phone that is uncanny. At any rate, he is busy, so I answer the phone. I put the lady on hold and tell him, "Line 1 is for you, " at which point he exasperatedly snaps and yells at me, "How LONG have they BEEN on HOLD?!?!" I stare at him with a God-you-truly-are-a-fucked-up-asswipe-of-a-human expression and answer back in his same Holy Shit The World Is On Fucking Fire! tone, "Uh, 3 SECONDS?!?!?" He very calmly says, "Oh. Ok." And gets the phone.

Later he calls up to ask me how to spell the name "Matthew" for some business cards. I don't know of any other way to spell it, plus I know that Matthew is leaving in 2 weeks but hasn't told Mr. Crazypants yet, and making him business cards is a waste. I decide this information is pointless. I tell him nothing. I spell "Matthew" for the jackass and leave it at that.

Twice today we had the cable guys come in. The first time is because his modem isn't working, that was legit. The second time was because he's getting a lot of pop up ads and doesn't want to see those anymore. The first cable guy explained that pop up ads were not their problem (he was totally nice about it) so I guess Mr. Crazypants thought he would get a second opinion. Jackass. The second cable guy wasn't happy. Especially since he showed up when Mr. Crazypants was out, and I had no freaking idea why he had called him, and no way to contact him, since he suddenly wasn't answering his cell phone. So cable dude had to just sit in that Office Purgatory and wait.

While this is happening, customers are coming in wanting to buy things. But these things have no prices on them, so I can't sell them to them. I explain that I am new and couldn't begin to even guess where that information would be...but I can call him. This is protocol, by the way. If he is gone, I am supposed to call him, describe the thing, and he tells me how much to charge. This man can't keep an office straight, but can keep a freakin warehouse full of stuff priced in his head. Ok, whatever. So I call him but can't describe this thing to him, so he says tell them to be patient, he'll be back in 8 minutes. I realize this is folly to tell them but do so anyway. 45 minutes later, he's still not back, the cable guy is waiting, the new chick is standing around wondering what to do, I have to leave, the new lemmings (what I've named the two laziest high school kids he hired) are outside getting high and he isn't answering his cell phone. Needless to say, the people left and he lost the sale.

When he gets back I inform him of this and he implores, "WHY didn't you CALL me???" I stonily reply, "I did. Check your messages." And tell him it's time for me to go, bye bye now.

Also, while he was gone, his printer (his brand new printer) ate some paper funny and is jammed. I don't know how to fix it. I figure he'll freak out. I've been told by the other employees that he freaks out and "screams at people for no reason". Well, that may or may not be true, but I've seen the way he operates and I'm fairly certain this will seem like a good reason. I weigh how I feel about being dishonest and not telling him. I am a very honest person, mostly. There are occasions that warrant untruth. I decide that 1) he will not notice it's jammed any time soon and 2) he won't have any idea why it's jammed and 3) he won't have a clue HOW it got jammed. The man is so clueless he may well thing it just ~blurp~ did it on it's own. I decide to let it go and be untruthful by omission. While this goes against my basic moral policy, I decide this will be the exception because 1) this man is insane and 2)there was nothing I could do to change it or prevent it and 3) he wouldn't understand that and instead blame me unjustly. I have no desire to be yelled at for his printer eating paper and decide to remain silent.

I am disturbed, however, that the insanity of this place is making me feel justified in lying. I'm afraid the "crazy" is contagious and I'll start acting like an asshole. I had the very real urge to steal things today. I don't believe in it, bad karma and all, but my klepto days aren't THAT far behind me and this guy IS a little shit, and it's easy to justify crappy behavior when surrounded by crappy behavior!What do people call that? Not 5 finger discount...oh, it's creative wage enhancement. This guy INSPIRES that in me. He doesn't pay crap, you have to put up with crap, why not steal crap, right? (sigh~ wrong)

God, there was something else...now I can't remember....eh...(shrug)....whatever.
That guy is insane.
It's why everyone leaves. It's why I'll leave. But until I do, you will get all updates concerning his insanity. I promise.

A train of thought disturbed me this evening and got to me to thinking about crap.

You know, Ex's-That-Done-Me-Wrong crap. Woe is me crying in my beer kinda shit.

The last few boyfriends I had really fucked me up. Then I started thinking back and realized the last nice boyfriend I had was 9 years ago. It may have been 10.
I wonder what the hell happened then that I went off on such a bastard binge?
I mean, the last one was sort of nice to me for a while. Then he decsended into Bastardom.

Hmmm.

So the last one was an alcoholic who was totally irresponsible while drinking, would occasionally pick (verbal) fights with me while drinking, and eventually fucked some slut he works with (after almost 5 years of us being together and him telling me all the time he wanted to marry me, blah blah whatthefuckever!)

The one before that was very brief, Mr. Eye Candy, who was too young and announced that he was moving across country, but that it would be totally ok if we had sex until we left (yah, nice, thanks) then falls head over heels for a blond perfect model who is also a virgin and moves to New York to be with her. (Nothing like salt in a wound, whatthefuckever!)

The one before that was so breif he deserves no recognition. So that's what he gets.
(whatthefuckever)

The one before that was my sons dad, who (deep breath) was a beligerant sober (he was MUCH nicer drunk), spent all our money on coke (unbeknownest to me) while we got evicted out of one place after another, was a total control freak, and fucked about 20 girls by the time I actually managed to catch him at it. Hard to catch him when he's got my car and I"m home with the baby and he refused to pay the phone bill so I have no phone (didn't have a computer back then) and we lived out in the middle of nowhere. Yah. He cut me off from the outer world pretty nicely. Easier to do coke and fuck whores that way, I guess. WHATTHEFUCKEVER!

The one before that seemed very nice (didn't they all?) at first but after I moved in I realized he was an alcoholic that actually could black out after 2 beers and would sporadically punch me. No more needs to be said after that except WHATTHEFUCKEVER...no wait! When I told him I was leaving he said if I did he would kill the dogs, cats and horse, then himself....when that didn't work and I left anyway, he stalked me for months.
WHAT THE FUCK EVER!

Why? you ask....
WHy would I date such pieces of crap?
You know, I'm sitting here wondering the same thing.

What irritates me is that Mr. Wonderful seems to have the honor of cleaning up the mess these fuckwads left. And he seems ok with that. I'm not sure why. I mean, I guess when you're in love you take the good with the bad...but I come with a lot of baggage and I feel bad for him. I tell him I'm sorry I'm so fucked up sometimes, and he tells me to hush and stop apologizing.

Why did I do that to myself?
Why did I pick those assholes?
Why?

The only big thing I can remember happening (in the last year of me having a nice b/f) was the rape issues came up. For the first time since it happened and I mostly managed to bury it, it all came up in a swooping blow that year. I had thought at the time that I was making incredible headway, I was reading self help books and meditating and writing all this angst filled poetry to vent it all out...
but then I start dating cruel assholes....
There were a few occasional assholes in my dating career before that. But nothing major. Nothing truly CRUEL. Extended cruelty...

I thought I was developing some self love finally but seemed to have developed some latent self loathing instead. And decided to punish myself, perhaps?

This ones going to have to be food for thought, I guess. I don't feel any answers bubbling their way to the surface.
Eh. (shrug)

Argh, my neck is killing me.

But what of my day, you ask?

Well, today they hired the kid who yesterday claimed he "wanted to do nothing, you know, stand around and shit," when asked what position he was inquiring about. And moments later elbows his friend and says, "Dude! Can you imagine what it's going to be like coming in here tripping?"
Yah. He got hired. Of course?

As well as 2 other kids, who both showed up when Mr. Crazypants was gone, so here's all these new people showing up and asking what they're supposed to be doing, and no one to tell them.


The woman who trained me yesterday turns out to be a crack head. Literally, according to the gay guy. He was the most help, since he's been there for an entire month. He's got tenure, oh yah. When I asked him why no one stays longer than a month or so he laughed and said, "You've met him (the boss) right?"

more another time.....
urgle shmurgle murgle

Holy fucking crap, dude.

Latest search that SOMEHOW pulled up my blog:

"Shooting your spunk stories"

(deep breath) Wow. I bet they were dissapointed.
(laughs)

playing football with Mr. Potato Head

This morning I am driving Mr. Wonderful to work. (In the big gorgeous truck that I don't ever want to give back to the rental place, but I digress.) We are discussing my new job and my anxiety concerning the chaos factor, and my seeming inability to deal with it. Particularly, I am anxious about going back in. Last night I got to thinking about that ridiculous "office" and had a panic attack about it. I decided to not think about it anymore and go to bed. Well, now I am awake and thinking about it again.
Mr. Wonderful is of the opinion that I should somehow transcend the bullshit. He seems really annoyed with me this morning because I cannot grasp what he is saying. I explain to him that I am listening, but what he's saying does not compute. I am not being obstinate about his suggestions, I honestly cannot grasp what he is saying. I can repeat it. But that in no way implies I can DO it.
How do you transcend chaos? I used to be able to meditate while my brother blared Slayer in the other room. I know I had the ability, so I assume it still exists.
I think of Mr. Crazypants (my new boss) and the thought of his office actually ANGERS me. Why?
I feel put upon and pissed off. Like he's handing me a sack of dog crap and telling me to turn it into perfume. But perhaps he isn't asking for the impossible, perhaps he really just is asking for the minimal amount of work from his employees. In which case my Type A personality is taking it Waaaaaaaaaaaay Overboard.
Hmm.
I feel insulted that he would ask so little when I am clearly capable of so much.
I like hard work. It makes me feel stronger, more capable, competent.
Working in a pig sty accomplishing little to nothing feels WRONG.
That makes me feel weak and impotent.
I like exerting the amazing powers I posses (in a positive way). This job seems like a total waste of my abilities.
Mr. Wonderful tells me I'm looking at it all wrong.
And maybe so. I know that I feel this job is an insult to my abilities. And that irks me. And maybe I just can't look past my own pride.

I have this image in my head, of me walking back in the door, and Mr. Crazypants being surprised (it seems no one stays for long, no surprise there), and him asking me why I came back, and I stand there and blankly say, "I....don't....know...."
It seems futile.

I feel I have no purpose there. Other than to scrape some shit together and call that work. Is that work?

I like being part of a machine. I don't mind being a cog at all- when the machine is a giant sexy robot! Seriously, when a company runs like clockwork, I get off on it. I like being surrounded by capable competent people who all do their jobs well. It makes life easier for all of us. It's a beautiful thing to be part of a team when it's winning.
This new job is like joining a football team of Mr. Potato Head people. You throw a football at them and their parts fall off.
Ok. At least that made me laugh.
I gotta go. I gotta get ready for work.
Off to Potato Head Land.
HUT! HUT! HIKE!!!

birds of a feather flock together in an asylum

Oooooookey dokey then.
Today was my first day at my new job. I have decided: Everyone there is insane. In some way. Boss: certifiable. Female employee: couldn't give a rats ass about anything but her cell phone (she's 40+, not a teeny bopper) Shipping guy: might be stoned to the gourd or doesn't speak English well enough? Don't know. Don't really care.

I don't know what to say here. There are so many stories I could tell but I think it would make this guy (boss dude) recognizable, and I don't want to commit libel here, I just want to vent.
OH MY GOD SO MUCH TO VENT.
Such disorganization I have never witnessed. I am guessing, if Hell could be created (not that I believe in it) by our own fears, my personal Hell would be this mans office. Hell would be the most disorganized unfixable mess ever created.
Standing in the office today and trying to help him connect his new printer, the chaos was overwhelming. It was nearly as overwhelming as the smell of curdled milk coming from his trash can. Ungodly.
But standing there in the chaos I had the image of me trying to melt an iceberg with an unending supply of matches. To clean would be an exercise in futility. Anything at all would be an exercise in futility. Any expense of energy at all seemed wasteful. Which is probably why I was the only employee doing anything at all. I'm wondering how many days it will take before I just give up. I don't know.
Other people are telling me enjoy it, it's a "cake job". I don't want a cake job. I want something I can sink my teeth into, something that makes me feel like I accomplished something at the end of the day, and something that helps humanity.
Ok, I knew going into this one that there was no help of humanity, at least on any tangible scale. The only help I could be here would be to perform a coup d'etat.

On another note, I realized I was going to have fabulous fodder for blogging.
I could blog all day from his computer but he's got stuff stuck to the screen. All over the screen. Yah. He uses it like that. You have to lift stuff up to figure out where you're scrolling to.
Fabulous fodder.
Too tired now.

kick ass

I have some great new searches that lead people to my blog:

"Ron Moore + district attorney" (bet they got a eyeful!)

"Starnes Cove + flooding"

"Dave Albo child molester"

"girlfriend Paxil clingy angry"

"women suck at driving"


People never cease to amuse me.

Holy crap, blogger has been loading up sooooo sloooooooow! What is the deal?

Anywho....

This morning at the bus stop some of the older kids were tormenting a first grader. It pissed me off, to see them being such evil little bastards. And doing it right in front of the other parents (all mothers) made me think that they obviously don't see mothers being any threat.
I would like to change their minds. Permenently.
And it's moments like this that make me think how easily I could end up with a lawsuit. Because I can tell you I would have like nothing better than to smack each of them upside the backs of their heads and tell them to stop acting like fucking retards. (Sorry to any of the mentally challenged- you act MUCH better than these little assholes.)
I mean, I was annoyed enough until I came out later and saw that one (I call him "Jughead", and DUDE it fits him to a T) was actually waiting for the middle school bus. Yah. So he's a middle school kid, hanging out at the bus stop bullying a first grader. What a fucking loser. I hate this kid.

~sigh~

poeticness

Here's one I found from 2-2-94, which was apparently a Scorpio moon.

Ode to Scorpio Moon
----------------------

deep in psychic dreams
lulled into wakefulness by a
warm tongue lolling on
the edges of words...
swimming through the midst of meaning
instinctual power
coursing through every vein in it's erotic persistence
filling me completely
hot scorpionic magic stroking the moon into ecstasy
igniting every cell of my being
swirling into orgasmic whirlpools of sensual familiarity
dripping in every moist vibrancy of color and hue
creating new life in the steaming shadows, sweating out urgency
so close in the space above the ashes of the phoenix

Going through some old stuff and found this from high school:

Egotistical maniacs
possessed by impression
Caught up in self-pity
Afraid of who is right

Which amused me, because looking back, that damn well summed up my feelings about my fellow classmates.

Going through some old stuff and found this from high school:

Egotistical maniacs
Posessed by impression
Caught up in self-pity
Afraid of who is right

Which amused me, because looking back, that damn well summed up my feelings about my fellow classmates.

bumper stickers we're going to see soon....um...somewhere (not on my car)

(Thanks for sharing- my car also has a stereo. You can turn yours down.)

(Your giant SUV is awesome! Were the dead Iragi civilians included in that or was that extra?)

(What would Jesus do? First, he would be Jewish.)

(This driver participates in the pantless driver program.)



ps) don't bother with the nasty comments. I'm merely giving you a bumper sticker update. If you think these are bad, click on the link. The "I love abortions" sticker was too offensive to even copy. It also comes as a baby bib.

things that made me cry this morning....

It's so horribly sad.

TRUCK-GASM

Ooooooooooooh mmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyy,

Ok, a month or so ago, some guy rear ended me in traffic. I would like to personally thank him. Because of him, his insurance has loaned me a replacement vehicle while mine is fixed. I have a truck. So they loaned me at truck. But the truck they loaned me is a Dodge Ram 1500, and if it were possible to have sex with this truck, I might try. It's big (and here, size DOES matter) and roomy, strong and fast. It's even silver- not one of those crappy colors like Look-At-Me-I-Need-Attention Red. This truck is One Slick Bitch. Even the stereo rocks.

I'm not sure if I can sit here today. I may have to go drive around, pimpin my bad ass. Maybe with some Barry White blaring. Oooooh Yaaaahhh.

Ok, I got a job today. Of course it would be working for someone who is quite possibly insane. Although, I point out to Mr. Wonderful, this guys insanity could make me feel totally normal and capable by comparison. Perhaps....(rubs chin thoughtfully) why I seek the crazy people out. Hmmm.
My last bosses weren't nuts. They were very nice. I'm hoping this guy is very nice, also. Maybe crazy but very very nice? That would be dandy. Crazy I can deal with. Unreasonable and cranky, no deal.
So there is some sales involved to this job. I think it's going to take me some time to get back in the hang of sales (it's all no pressure kinds of things). But commission is cool. Especially when there are piles of things that cost $3000. That's always cool.

So I want to say I'm sorry to the rest of Virginia Beach. I'm sorry you did not snatch me up to work at your establishments fast enough. It is your loss. Depending on the level of insanity, I may once again be available for employment, but perhaps not. It's your own fault, you know. You snooze, you lose. Suck it up.

Onward.

I've got a job

Can I relax now?

from a friends e-mail:

A very attractive lady goes up to a bar in a quiet pub. She gestures alluringly to the bartender who comes over immediately.
When he arrives, she signals him to bring his face closer to hers. When he does she begins to gently caress his full beard. "Are you the manager?" she asks, softly stroking his face with both hands.
"Actually, no" the man replied.
"Can you get him for me? I need to speak with him" she says, running her hands beyond his beard and into his hair.
"I'm afraid I can't," breathes the bartender. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes, there is. I need you to give him a message," she continues, running her forefinger across the bartender's lips and slyly popping a couple of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently.
"What should I tell him?" the bartender barely manages to say.

"Tell him," she whispers, "there is no toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels in the rest room."

from a friends e-mail:

The government today announced that it is changing its emblem from an Eagle to a condom because it more accurately reflects the government's political stance.

A condom stands up to inflation, halts production, destroys the next generation, protects a bunch of pricks, and gives you a sense of security while you're being screwed.

Damn, it just doesn't get more accurate than that.

waiting for lunch to heat up...

...and thinking, "God, I need a microwave."

Well, the wind from Ivan is still hanging around. It was windy most of the weekend, and righteously awesome at that. Although I loved it during the weekend, I don't care for it much today. Reason being, I am home alone, and my house is making weird noises and I keep freaking out thinking there is someone is here....
Paranoid? Generally.

(whistles to self while stomach growls angrily)

It's weird, the conflict I am having over this job search thing.
On one hand, being home alone is heavenly. I never get time alone, and it's great. Unfortunately, I can't enjoy it, because I don't have a job, I need a job, and therefore trying to relax at home just inspires waves of guilt. But currently I am exempt, due to my toaster ovens slowness at heating food. I almost left without eating. THAT would have been a wretched mistake. I did it last week. Yah, the blog where I endlessly got lost on craptacular Laskin Road? Not again, my friends, not again.

There seems to never be enough time. Mr. Wonderful was commenting the other day on how time seems to be flying lately. Perhaps it is not time I lack, but a realistic time frame in which to do it. I mean, how soon do I need to wash the windows, really? The laundry? Go hang gliding? Just sit at the beach and listen to the ocean, sounds fabulous. When will that occur? Christmas, perhaps? Does it really matter? Why must I feel freaked out about accomplishing everything quickly? When did I buy into that? As soon as I learned the fine art of multi-tasking I took it to neurotic extremes. I've noticed I rarely make it through a meal without trying to do at least 2 other things. Yesterday I made food, then ate a few bites standing up and threw the laundry into the washing machine..then came back and ate another bite...walked off again...
Manic? I don't think so. Easily distracted, sure. I definitely seem to believe that the more I accomplish = the better person I am.
Well, that's a pile of crap. I mean, growing up in metro Detroit inspires workaholism, I think. Having a Depression era dad does that to a kid. So I can see where I came up with that. And to an extent, it may ring true. But not the extent I take it. I can barely relax once my crazy self is in GoMode.

Come to think of it, that's probably why I love going out to eat. What am I going to do, bus someone else's table? No. I sit. I relax. It's a crazy notion, but hey!

Yah. Food is ready. Gotta go.
(proceeds to run down hall making crazy noises)

Why is Jack in jail?

Doctor Assisted Suicide

Do you believe doctor assisted suicide should be allowed when a person is terminally ill or suffering from a painful disease?


Yes, it's a persons right to choose when to die (2246) 84%

No, it should be illegal and a person should have to run the course of their life (438) 16%



Total Votes: 2684

ways to make absolutely certain your child is beat up on Halloween

aptly named for most children

you know you want to look....looooooook.....loooooooooooooooook!

Aw crap, little sea foam aliens

domestic disputes

I woke up at 3 am this morning, hearing a woman screaming. It was so loud I was sure it was coming from the apartment below us, but realized it was coming from outside. I ripped the window open and smashed my face up to the screen, to try and see where the noise was coming from. I hear her yell, "Just stop it! Stop it! I'm already leaving!" I notice a guy across from us is standing there looking off, so I follow his gaze and see where they are. A bunch of people skulk around the corner (4 of them, to be exact) and duck behind the building. Just as I'm about to call the cops I can hear the sirens (they are really fast, I'm impressed) and the cops pull up with the sirens off now and no lights. Smart thinking, guys. And they start talking to two people (I can barely see them), I assume the fighting couple...
And I see the four skulkers come out from behind the building and duck into an entrance to another building. Huh? Maybe they live there? But a few minutes later they come out and walk on down the street, heads ducked.

Hmm.

I'm guessing a drunken party with the guy/chick brawling. Also guessing some other drugs are involved, hence the skulking...

I watched out the window for awhile, to see if they came back, to see if the cops arrested them, to make sure everything is ok, no ambulance or anything (for which they made need a witness, not that I could see anything).

I wonder...how to people argue so loudly? I mean, when the X and I broke up, I did some serious screaming in his face. Never in front of my son, and never while he was home. But the two of us, alone, me packing, him begging me to forget about it, me wanting his head on a pike, those were times of screaming. Always inside, always daytime. Shit, I even apologized to my neighbor, who nodded wisely and said, "It's scream or kill him ,right?" and added "You go, girl." I'm not sure if she was being supportive of my venting and telling him off or if she thought perhaps I should kill him... I really should find her number and call her...
Oh. Sorry. Anyway, what I'm wondering is how people can do that in public. How do you stand in the parking lot and scream at each other, while it echoes between buildings, at 3 in the morning....loud enough to wake up your neighbors with their windows closed who live 500 yards away (at least, I'm a bad judge of distance). How do you not care what people think? Do these people lack shame? Humility? Couth? Um...sense?
Perhaps they think this kind of behavior is acceptable or normal. I don't know. Maybe they need to take Jerry Springer off the air.

So I tell Mr. Wonderful about it this morning (he slept through it all). I tell him it's sad. I cuddle up next to His Hunkliness and says, "I'm glad I'm not them. I'm glad I'm us." He agrees.

Yeesh.

some people I hate

They give me good reason.

And after reading that, I think I know where the psycho son get it from....

Thanks for everything Johnny. We'll miss you.

an almost forgotten moment...

While cooking I remembered a moment in driving that I would hate to lose to my faulty memory:

My son and I were driving to see Mr. Wonderful. My son is gazing out the window at the clouds at sunset. I am, too. They're gorgeous. He pipes up, "That cloud looks like a horrible monster, " which totally takes me by surprise. He then happily sighs and murmers, "Good times...good times...."
The crazy apple doesn't fall far from the crazy tree, hmmm?

Ivan rolls through Asheville....

9/17/04 Sarah Arrowood's home on Arrowood Rd. off Starnes Cove Rd. where she had to be rescued from her bedroom.

Ewart Ball
Sep 17, 2004



9/17/04 Sarah Arrowood 82 had to be rescued from her bedroom last night during the storm by her son Doug Arrowood.

Ewart Ball
Sep 17, 2004

****************sigh****************

duuuuuuude....

The season finale of Star Gate Atlantis is a cliff hanger...the pain! The agony!
ARRRGGHH!
I have to wait till WHEN??
Ugh.

I am beautiful because...

(a post inspired by Faye, who was inspired by me....it's all very inspiring, really...)
**************************************************************

~ I strive to be a better person, every moment of every day

~ I look for the beautiful and divine in everything.

~ I am learning to accept people as they are.

~ I have fabulous greenish gray eyes. (Most people mistake them for blue. They are not. They perfectly match a khaki scarf I own.)

~ I laugh at myself.

~ I recognize there is a lot to laugh at.

~ I psychoanalyze my weaknesses (and strengths, but they are harder to obsess about).

~ I feel guilty for eating meat.

~ I'm a great mom.

~ I'm a great cook.

~ My house is clean, baby, clean. Well, it's pretty damn tidy, anyway.

~ I'm learning how to stand up for myself.

~ I've learned how to differentiate between a good man and a boy that needs to grow up still.

~ I've got a good man.

~I endlessly and wholeheartedly appreciate a good man.

~ I've learned to be a partner and not a mother-figure.

~ I am willing to explore the darker painful parts of my psyche in support of my own growth.

~ I seek a way to help the human race.

~ I strive to do no harm.

~ I admit I don't always succeed.

~ I quit smoking. (It's been over 2 years. *BOWS*)

~ I love geeks.

~ I recognize that brains are waaaaaaaay more important that "cool".

~ I recognize "cool" is in the mind of the beholder.

~ I flaunt my sexuality when it is appropriate.

~ I protect myself.

~ I protect those around me.

~ I protect those I don't even know.

~ I am willing step back and let people make the mistakes they need to to learn what they need to.

~ I do the right thing because it is the right thing to do, not because I think I'll get caught.

~ I find gossip to be gruesome. (This is different that psychoanalyzing people when they're not there, in the sense that I mean no ill will, I am merely interested in the motivations of the human psyche.)

~ I did not harm my ex-boyfriends Skank, no matter how very very very badly I wanted to and she deserved it. I took the high road.

~ I continue to not harm her, because the desire still exists.

~ My best friends I have had for 17 years, 13 years, 12 years, 11 years, 8 years, 7 years, 5 years, 4 years, and 5 months. You all know who you are.

~ One of those best friends is my son.

~ I don't mistake my friendship with my son as an excuse to spoil and confuse him; this is a dictatorship, not democracy. I'm just a friendly dictator.

~ Mr. Wonderful and I based where we were going to live on the best school system so my son could have the best school (bragging rights: this was Mr. Wonderfuls' idea!)

~ I have managed to let go of the majority of my pack-rat collection.

~ I know what I want to do in life.

~ I love the rain and sun. I love it all.

~ I have VERY SERIOUS lust for the Star Wars DVD Trilogy (the commercial is on TV right now.)

~ I am ridiculously in love with the Star Wars story (movies and books- I've read up to where Luke and Mara fall in love....more to go, I know- I quit reading them when I found out Chewie was eventually going to die. Can't deal with it, maybe someday.)

~ I feel guilty for ragging on people, even when they totally deserve it.

~ I am learning to admit I am fragile.

~ I am learning to strengthen myself through acceptance, not avoidance.

~ I think a bit of pudge is A-Ok. Pudge is comfy. Pudge is cuddly. Bones... not so much.

~ I have a vast array of talents.

~ I am intelligent.

~ I have managed to apologize to most everyone I've ever hurt. Even if I despise them.

~ I regret nothing. Life has been a winding painful road that has led to me to the place I am. I wouldn't trade that for anything.

~ I endured 25 hours of painful labor to give birth to my son. 20 of that drug free (they drugged me near the end...ended up with a C-section anyway...)

~ I would do it again.

~ If I feel the urge to rip on people in my blog, I don't mention their names. My opinions are my own; there's no need to publicly diss them, I just need to vent.

~ I have voted for every Presidential election since I turned 18.

~ I am a blood donor.

~ I did tons of drugs and was smart enough to realize they only get you so far; the rest is done within.
**********************************************


I'm getting tired of making this list. However, I may continue to add to it from time to time. It's cathartic. It's awesome. I feel great.
Thanks Faye. Great idea.

All the faults of our mind – our selfishness, ignorance, anger, attachment, guilt, and other disturbing thoughts – are temporary, not permanent and everlasting. And since the cause of our suffering – our disturbing thoughts and obscurations – is temporary, our suffering is also temporary.

-Lama Zopa Rinpoche, Ultimate Healing

Sometimes nothing makes a girl feel better than a good sobfest.

It's like molting.

preying in the flood

I wonder if the Mantis is pondering what the hell is going on...

bumper sticker update:

Indeed.

Kitty Island: An exclusive cat resort and boutique.

I'm not sure words can possibly convey the feeling I have.

vote. vote correctly.

My Ego

So I post about job searching yesterday. I'm talking about a lot of stuff, one thing being the reaction I got from two women yesterday (one after the other). They both gave me this "You're pretty and I resent you" expression.
I get some comment from someone about it!
Funny stuff.
They take offense at my opinion. They seem to be offended that I think I'm cute, and that I would think what I did about these two women.
I will go so far to say, if you haven't received this look from someone, you have made it. Perhaps both. I have been on both sides of the fence (albeit when I was younger... and may do it again when I get older. I doubt it though.).
Why someone would feel offense at my post has me curious. Why would someone be angry because I think I'm cute? How odd. I mean, I know the basis of their argument was formed on their misconstrued opinion, and therein lies the problem.

Also, I am offended.

How dare someone come into my blog, twist my words around and insult me? What kind of crap is that? Is their post serving some greater good here? I have given much thought (ok, a little anyway) to this and came up with: no.

However, I realized that in case anyone else should consider me a vain bitch, I will clarify:

I AM SERIOUSLY CUTE.

(bursts into laughter)

Now, this isn't meant in the way that egotistic snotty bitches mean it. No, this is meant in the way that someone who grew up with an ugly duckling syndrome can say it. I had a totally booboliscious best friend that all the guys adored. She was blond, her parents had money, and she got boobs at like 10. I, on the other hand, was a mop headed brunette, who was horribly poor and flat chested. We would go places and guys would hit on her and she would LEAVE with them. As in, leave me there. Wherever we were. Pretty harsh.
Her closet was filled with stuff. Cool stuff. At 12, she had a closet full of clothes from Express. (We're talking 1987 here, people.) She had Swatches. She went horseback riding, joined cheerleading, watched MTV. I had clothes from Goodwill, played in the woods/read books, and wrote angst filled poetry.
She was in a video for RATT. (Or was it Motley Crue?)
I was in the school band.

You see where this is going?
I must have been around 20 before I realized guys actually thought I was cute. And this surprised me. People would tell me I was the center of attention, and I was totally baffled. What? Why? This does not compute.
I started to realize they were right. And I did not like it. Well, the attention starved part of my ego soaked it up. The paranoid PTSD girl who is freaked out about being stalked did not find this so great.
You can call it a conflict of interest.

At any rate, in the next 10 years I have discovered that I posses sex appeal. This is awesome and frightening. It is a powerful ally to have, and one that cannot be abused. I do not abuse it. For me, the fear is justified. Having been raped, I speak from experience. Although the rape wasn't caused by an abuse of sex appeal (none are, it is an act of violence and domination, not sex), and I didn't have any that I know of at thirteen years old, I still have some fucked up equation in my head that if it were to happen again and I was strutting my ass around town looking superfoxyfine, I would somehow be responsible. That is not true. But I know how rape works in the human mind, and it defies the logical process. Kinda sucks that way.

So here's the deal: I am cute. I am downright fucking adorable, in my better moments. I am a hot sexy bitch, although my own opinion of that falters at times, too.
My beauty is inner. It is not a tanning bed-makeup-fake nails-Abercrombie-gold jewelry-bling kind of beauty. I am beautiful because I was blessed with good genes, but more so because of a life time of introspection and a desire to be a better person each day. I am beautiful because I look for the beauty in each and every thing. I don't always find it. But a lot of times I do. I strive to make the world better, in any way I can. I give great consideration to how I raise my son, so he may have these same skills and be a great man, and surpass his mom in enlightenment.

Yet someone could come into my blog, read one paragraph out of the 135,295 words that are written in it, and try to stretch what I say into something they can find fault with...it's offensive. What offends me is that they could be so short sighted and judgmental. I don't take what they say to heart, really. I'm sad that people can be so small minded. And I am offended that they took the time to...insult me? I'm not sure what that was.
It's just sad. It makes me sad. I'm not sad for me, I'm sad for them.
If I read someone else's blog and I don't like it, I leave. There is no need for me to post a comment about how I disagree with their opinion. To assume my little comment is going to change their outlook on the world is folly. Besides (shrug) it's their blog. I am glad they can vocalize their thoughts. I am glad they feel the urge to share, in a manner that is passive and inoffensive. No one forces me to read it, and therefore there is no reason for me to argue with them.
Ok, one could say that straightening out a dumbass is everyone's job. But is it? I mean, you're pushing the river on that one. If the dumbass wants enlightenment, they'll go looking for it. Otherwise, why waste your breath/fingers?

At any rate, if anyone would like to argue with me about something they know little about, go find something constructive to do and quit talking out of your butt. If you feel you must, though, I may respond. If it's something I feel inspires introspection...
(grin)

Driving back from the store last night I noticed some houses without curtains. I can see right into their living room. There they are.
And I wonder, how is it people can do that? How can they live in curtainless security, knowing anyone can see them, but not care?
I know I am different in this regard. Some people don't give a crap.
My parents don't give a crap. There they sit, night after night, watching TV in front of a big bow window, anyone driving by can look in...
HOW?
Am I really so strange?
Ok, never mind that.
I wonder though, if everyone SHOULD be more paranoid. I mean, maybe they just haven't ever stopped to think about it.
This could be the PTSD talking, I realize. But still!
(shaking head)
I don't know.

hilarious

"You will never find a more wretched cake, all crumbs and vanilla-y." (harperwi)

(For those of you unaware, the original qoute is: "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.")

job search: day II

Well, today was less frustrating, more annoying.

I spent the morning calling new places, a brief search online to see if anything new was there, then the online application for the bookstore.
Ok- that guy wasn't kidding. Although it was faster to do at home, it took me at least an hour. There was a 38 page personality assessment. I didn't see that coming. Regardless of whether or not I get this job, I am infinitely curious to see what it said about me. Hmmm....

There was a freak storm today at lunch. I was making Mr. Wonderful lunch, since he forgot his (so cute!). Anyhow, it starts pouring like freaking mad. I leave, and drive 30 mph down the highway. With my emergency flashers on. And that was pushing it. Crazy.

I have lunch with Mr. Wonderful who is hot delicious fabulousity. Lunch was good, too.

The health food store was cool. I find it hard to believe a place as small as that needs people...but ok. The application has a few odd questions (one would expect nothing less from a small health food store, right?) that ended with (no foolin'): "If you could be any animal, what would you be and why?"
That one stumped me for a while. I mean, so many options! So many reasons!
I ended up picking an elephant, because they 1) they live long lives 2) they are very intelligent 3) they have strong family structures.
Bizarre.

There were a bunch of places I drove by that had signs in the windows and I stopped at them. One lady was a crazy bitch who, upon me informing her I was looking for morning work, waved me away and said she only had a position open for mornings. I stared at her. Do I correct her or slowly back away? She gave me an application and said maybe she could use me for Christmas. I took the application and left, shaking my head at that one.
Another one went really weird... I asked the lady what positions she had open and she asked me what hours I could work. She makes a disappointed grumpy face at me, so I know that isn't what she's looking for. I am ready to leave, but she asks me to fill out an application. Uh...ok....so I do. She asks me questions, which I answer. I ask her questions, and every time she just looks at me for a minute, without smiling. As a matter of fact, I don't think she smiled once. Anyway, she would look at me, silent and unsmiling, then finally answer my question, once I had already concluded that she was 1)creepy 2)a bitch 3)demented. After I finish filling out the application, she starts in asking me about what daycare I would put my son in so I could work afternoons whenever she needed me to. Since I have clearly stated that I am looking for work while my son is in school, and want to be home by 3, I find this presumptuous and rude of her. Is she not listening? Does she think whatever I said is irrelevant, and that I will bow to her will (the impression I get)? She even starts suggesting places I will take my son. I decide I already hate this woman and would never want to work for her. I mean, I walked in the door clearly stating my needs. If she can't meet them, say so, we both move on. Why is she wasting my time having me fill out an application, only to inform me I will need to do hours I am unavailable for? Fucking DUH. So I tell her, sure, yah, you call me, we'll talk. So I can waste some of your time, too, you crazy arrogant bitch.
Both of those crazies had the same thing going on, I think. They both gave me the "You are young and pretty and I resent you" face. I've seen it before. I call it the "Mirror Mirror" face. You know, in Sleeping Beauty, the crazy step mom is obsessed with being the prettiest and offs her step daughter for being prettier than her. The lady in the toy store was the worst (the first one). I think when I got up close and she had to look waaaaaay up at me it pissed her off (I'm 6 foot in heels, intimidating I suppose). And she was, mmm, trollish. Yah, I said it. Well, I refuse to see being cute as a curse, so if she doesn't like it, so be it. My last boss said they loved that I was cute- it spoke well of their company, she said. That's the way it should be. Says me, anyway.
Moving on...

Quite a few places needed someone at night, blah blah. I knew this ahead of time for the places I had called, but some only have signs in the window, so it's a crap shoot there. I shot a lotta crap.

~shrug~

The health food store looks like the most hopeful for today. That or the bookstore. We'll see.

I'm sure there's more details that were interesting, but honestly, it blurs after awhile. I should be keeping better notes, I suppose. Note to self.

I want a nap. Who knew looking for a job would be more exhausting than having one? The stress of it, I guess. I hadn't thought of that...

More details coming.
More craptastic action.
Stay tuned.

pizza

Note to self:

When living in stay at home domestic bliss with man and eating only home cooked meals prepared by self, the occasional pizza will taste orgasmic.
Keep in mind.

Thank you,
self

bat dude rules

the job search

Well, today is my first official day of Hitting The Pavement and job searching. My heels gave me a couple of blisters. Although I have no job yet, the blisters make me feel as if I have accomplished SOMETHING, which is good because this is a frustrating process.
The first place I looked for and never found. I'm guessing it's a misprint in the phone book or something. I'm going to have to call and find out where the fuck this place actually is, because I can tell you where it isn't, and that really isn't terribly helpful.
Second place was totally on a whim, didn't know if they were hiring, just thought working at a florist would be cool, and having mass amounts of experience with plants I figure I have that working for me. Turns out they are indeed hiring, but the place to apply is elsewhere. I find this serendipitous. I get directions, I find it almost an hour later (missed my exit, um, multiple -separate- times). I fill it out, and the girl tells me I need a recent record from the DMV. Ok, kooky, but fine. Good luck me finding that, I think , but tell her I will be back within the week with my record which, I point out, is spotless.
Ok...an hour later I finally find my way back from there and try one more time to find the first place...still no luck. I thought maybe there was a chance my dumb ass just missed it, first thing in the morning, you know...but no. I started to feel like I'm in some boring episode of The Twilight Zone, where you drive around the mall and never see Starbucks...for all eternity.
Onward...
The next place has an online application, with their computer in the store. The girl told me that on the phone. Ok, so I go in and some guy is trying to get the thing up and running. It's being a pain in the ass and I make jokes about computers being insubordinate...and wait. And wait. Finally I ask the guy if this is something I can go online maybe at home?, my computer being fast and all (thanks Mr. Wonderful). The guy says yah, I'd have better luck doing that. Ok. I decide I want to work there because of this guy, who is the epitomy of Pencil Neck Geek. He was lacking the taped glasses and a pocket protector, but it was easy enough to imagine. My reasoning was that if this delicate creature can work there, so can I. Must not be too stressful.
Then I really started getting lost. Round and round I go, filling out applications, and getting more and more pissed off and irritated as the day goes on, because I keep getting lost. Job searching would be much better if I didn't have to get lost all the time. GRRRRRR. At one point I was looking for a place on Laskin Road, only to finally look over and realize I'm on Virginia Beach Road, which MAY be why I can't find the place I'm looking for. And Laskin Road...WHO THE HELL INVENTED THE SIDE ROAD? All along this road there are additional roads. Doesn't make sense? No, it doesn't. Basically you have a 6 lane road, separated by islands, and flanking both directions are extra roads, and those go both ways.



There. There's my two minute crack head paintshop interpretation of this suck ass road.
At any rate, I'm going back and forth on this road, endlessly in traffic, turned around and trying to figure out where the hell I am, and trying to actually FIND the places I'm looking for (there were quite a few on Laskin).
Finally I realize I am starving and nearly broke so I come home to eat, ease my blisters, and fill out the online application.

All the annoyances aside, I hope I get that first job (the first one I found, anyway). Working with flowers would be cool, and delivering them would be awesome too. I dated a guy in high school who delivered flowers and I always thought that had to be pretty cool.
Me, walking into office....all women look up, hopeful....I announce who the flowers are for. I hand them to the receptionist. The girls ogle. I smile. I leave, and continue on my way...

Yah, that would be a little bit of all right.

Poor little Asheville-

Dear Old Town of Mine,

I do so love you. I am sorry you are a bog. I am sorry Ivan is heading your way. I'm sorry I'm not available to help you out in your time of need.
Just know that I love you.

-Me

no baked potatoes and chili for The Poontweezler

What is laughter, what is joy, when the world is ever burning?
Shrouded by darkness, would you not seek the light?

-Dhammapada 146

Will Ferrell rules.

Sometimes you gotta be proud of the little things. Like winning Spider Solitare in 93 moves. I'm feeling pretty cool. Ooooh Yaaaaahhh.

Wow. I really don't think there is anything I can say. Truly.

far too hilarious to have made it to print

Norfolk Mayor Paul D. Fraim pops in on the latest additions to the Virginia Zoo by way of an underground bubble. The $344,000 interactive exhibit opens to the public today. VICKI CRONIS PHOTOS / THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT

I had no idea the mayor of Norfolk was actually Spaceman Spiff.

So I'm lying in bed thinking about the X, and his Skank, and the night we broke up. How I sat outside his work and spied on them throught the window, watched him play with her hair, watched her hug him, blah blah blood boiling blah. An hour or so later, he and I were in a bar down the street breaking up. Yah, he wants to tell me we should break up IN A BAR. That's classy. (ugh)
So I tell him that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard come out of his mouth (and there have been some JEWELS over the years) but whatever, the time has come. Obviously. So I get up to leave and tell him, "Well, have a nice life, " and I leave.
As I am remembering this moment, I hear an explosion outside. Long story short, I don't know what it was, but the cops arrived and left so I assume everything is kosher.
Strange.
Also strange was the timing.
Us: breaking up. Me: walking out. Cue: explosion.
Nice.

damn blogger ate my blog.
RRRMmmmmmmfff!

zoomy

Mr. Wonderful spent the afternoon/evening/night formatting my computer. It's wiped clean, baby! Spanky! Now it goes zoom!
IT ROCKS!

Will this make me blog more? Faster? Magically more interesting? Nope. But it rocks anyway. Thats all you need to know.

no love for Ivan

Ivan also killed one person in Tobago, five in Venezuela, one Canadian woman in Barbados, and four youngsters in the Dominican Republic who were swept away by a giant wave Thursday even though the storm was nearly 200 miles away.

Holy shit.

GRRRRRRRrrrrrrrr...

manhood...

My son is surfing, and comes across something about what kids do. He says to me, "One boy has been plumbing since he was SEVEN! Now THAT is a real boy!"
Apparently manhood is judged by the length of your plumbing.

Senility prayer

Grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway,
the good fortune to run into the ones I do,
and the eyesight to tell the difference.

babbling in the sun

An odd day.

Took Melatonin last night before bed. I took it once before and had the same reaction: woke up tired as hell. Well, it's not supposed to do THAT. ~sigh~
I've been reading a lot about serotonin (of which I have an apparent imbalance, I say so with my doctors degree I just pulled out of this here box of Cracker Jacks). I've been thinking a lot about chemical imbalances.
And I've been thinking about food.
Funny thing, when you have a serotonin imbalance, you want to eat a lot. A lot of carbs. Yummy delish carbs. (Sorry, wiping up drool.)
So, what I'm reading is informing me that the body craves carbs in serotonin imbalances.
Which of course gives me the awesome excuse to eat like a pig, cause it's a chemical imbalance, right? But that does not FIX the imbalance, and instead it makes me fat.
Fat will not make me happier, last I checked.
The times that I have gained weight, I was really depressed about it. Depression is also a chemical imbalance of serotonin.
HMMMMMMMMMMM
Kind of creates this wicked circle, you see?

(Editors note: bloggerette is sitting topless on deck in sun. Enjoying it greatly. Blog rambling. Fault of sunshine. Also temporarily blinded. Thank God for spellcheck.)

I read a book recently, entitled "Food and Loathing". Also read, "When Food Is Love" many years ago. Being interested in psychology and food, the two together seem to be a no brainer for me.
I have never been a bumilic or anorexic, although that brief period after finding out my boyfriend cheated on me may count. God I was thin. It ruled. Not that I am condoning eating disorders, I've had a few friends with them. It's sad to behold.
The only problems I've ever had with food is loving it WAAAAAAAY TOOOOO MUCH. So I have had moments (ok, days) where I have wondered if I am a compulsive eater. The answer is yes, but not all the time.
So back to the books. (Editors note: See? I told you. Space cadet.) Food and Loathing is about a chick who has trouble with compulsive eating for years. Her doctors test her and see she is bi-polar (Manic Depressive for those of you not in the know). They give her lithium but give her way too much, as it was many years ago and they hadn't quite fined tuned that yet. Anyway, she decides Lithium is Not For Her and goes on about her life, being thin during her manic cycles and fat during the depressive ones. Sees shrink after shrink. Finally one shrink talks her into trying Lithium again, and she gets a CORRECT dose and does fine with it.
She misses the manic stages (who wouldn't?), but her weight finally evens out. (I do ramble, don't I?) What's fascinating throughout the book is her self loathing for the binge cycles.
As much as a gallon of Breyers ice cream would taste good, it's impossible to enjoy without guilt. So how does that pay off? I mean, if I could eat crap and not feel bad, wouldn't that be better? I wonder how much of it is an addiction to the guilt itself...
there are people who inflict injury upon themselves ("cutters"). Isn't overeating the same thing, but slower? Totally the wussy version. ~sigh~ (I can see the over eaters being like, "Yah! I'm gonna be hard core and start slashing myself!" NO NO NO)
What I'm trying to babble on about is this:

over eating is painful to oneself.
Crapulent, even.
If I can figure out how to stop doing it, I'll let you know, ok?
I'm going on the serotonin thing until proved otherwise.

The thing that blows is anti-depressants (SRI's) that correct the serotonin imbalance make me eat like a pig, too. What the fuck is up with that, I don't know. So that doesn't solve the problem. Then I won't be chemically imbalanced but I'll still be depressed I'm fat.
~sigh~
I'll figure it out. Cause I am... (cue music) The Introspectre.

check back, same crazy time, same crazy channel....

photo: Steve Dixon
The French Broad River Park on Amboy Road, viewed looking eastward, lies underwater Thursday. Interstate 40 is pictured on the right and Amboy Road is on the far left. Much of Western North Carolina suffered flooding because of the remnants of Hurricane Frances.

I used to take my son there to play. Poor Asheville.
~sigh~

"We should not seek revenge on those who have committed crimes against us, or reply to their crimes with other crimes. We should reflect that by the law of karma, they are in danger of lowly and miserable lives to come, and that our duty to them, as to every being, is to help them to rise towards Nirvana, rather than let them sink to lower levels of rebirth."

-His Holiness the Dalai Lama

NICE!

Latest searches to pull up my web site:

The first time I saw a penis

The first time I saw a penis + my dad

"dave albo" + asshole



God I love people.

I honestly do not understand how it is the owners of the H2's don't drive down the road with BAGS over their heads.
Seriously.

tint now, pay later

Props to Mr. Wonderful for spotting this one.

Hey, don't worry, if you DESPERATELY need tinted windows but can't afford it, you can tint them here!
I mean, you've obviously got priorities.
Priorities that require dark dark windows.

why you should never trust a man with two first names

Found this going through some old boxes.
Also,



Winks for MET

~chuckles~

shot down

I went to apply for a job today. In my crazy ballsy bitch way, I completely and totally expected to be offered a job, on the spot, which I would so graciously accept just to do them a favor, right?
Didn't turn out that way. Pisser. Instead, they informed me they couldn't use me for the hours I had available.
Wha? (in the voice of Jon Stewart)
WHHHAAAAA?
You aren't going to INVENT a job for me?
No?
Oh.
Well, then.

you get the idea

Petty, Mostly Sadistic

Pissy, Mad, Sad

Poser Man Sucketh

Pissiness, Men Sicken

Pretty? Mistaken, Surely

Puny, Mean, Surly

in an ideal world....

...people would not live in trailers in areas that have hurricanes.

...people would not live anywhere that alligators live.

...or anacondas, for that matter.

...misquitos would not exist.

...I could stuff my face all day without turning into a lardass.

...America would be supercool and have national health insurance.

...pot would be legal and drunk driving laws would be insanely tough.

Ahem (soapbox is out).
This last one requires a tangent. Anyone who is a pothead or knows some potheads, you know that these people are not a danger on the road. Stoners drive freakishly slow and careful. FREAKISHLY, I say. I had a cop tell me one time how he could pick stoners out on the road: they drive a good distance behind the car ahead of them, and stay CONSTANTLY at that distance. Never closer, never farther. They concentrate INTENTLY on what they're doing. And without someone to follow to set the speed for them, they usually lag behind the speed limit a good 5 to 10 miles an hour, only speeding up when they notice how slow they're going.
Having been a stoner, I agree.
Compare this to drunks, who are totally reckless, without a clue to how reckless they are. Bad driving + overall stupidity/ignorance = death for other people, rarely the drunks. They drive fast, weave, tailgate, they're so easily distracted it's retarded, their reflexes SUCK...and they kill people every fucking day.
Hmmm, now let's see, which would I rather have on the road... let me think about that one....

(rolling eyes)

COME ON!!!!

That said....

...recycling would be mandatory, to do anything otherwise would seem to be madness.

...I would hang out with George Lucas on a regular basis.

...George Lucas would make Star Wars movies until the year 4000 AD, which of course I could somehow watch from beyond the grave.

...I got paid to sit at home and ponder what Star Wars movies would be like in the year 4000 AD.

...I could call a time out and have sex whenever I wanted. (in a meeting: Boss says, "Blah blah blah productivity blah blah resources blah blah end of year something or other blah blah" I say, "Yah, you know what? I gotta go get laid. Y'all just hold that thought, I'll be back after sex and a nap. Maybe a snack, too come to think of it. Just stay right there, I'll be back in a little while." Boss: "Ok, that's cool. This meeting is on hold until then. Enjoy yourself." Me: "Well, DUH." Boss : (laughs) "Yes, how silly of me." Me: leaves room thinking about how dumb my boss is and how I'm probably not coming back for a few days. Drooling by the time I get to the door.)

~~~~~~~~

It occurs to me I have way too much shit to do right now.
Onward.

here you go boys. stay busy.

conflict of interest

Some other blogs are vastly amusing. Like Jason Mulgrew's. He gets my Superfreak Of The Year Award. Also King Of The Shameless Hussies, for his 547 pages of comments. You rule. Seriously.
At any rate, I read blogs that amuse me to no end, and I think to myself, I want to amuse! I want to make a reader come back for more; an unquenchable thirst for the thoughts in my head. However, my inner critic informs me that the thoughts in my head really aren't THAT captivating. I then took my inner critic into a back room and duct taped him to a chair and stuffed a raquetball in his mouth. Who the hell does he think he is....
But the point of my blog is not to amuse you. It is to enlighten us all, in any way possible, preferably by enlightening me first. I mean, this is sort of an ongoing dredging process here. In case you haven't caught on to my insanity yet. Oh, sorry, that's Anxiety Disorder. Whatever. Look: I need to share. I don't need to share everything, however. If I did, this would be far more interesting, methinks (heh heh). What I do need to share are the million and one things that I witness during the course of a day...the things that random strangers get a little freaked out about if you just run up and go, "Hey! Would you look at that! You know, that reminds me of when I was 13, and blah blah blah blah...." And then they smack you and say, "I think it's clearly obvious that I am a Random Stranger! Hello?"

Thanks, all you random strangers (and those not so random or strange), for letting me vent on you.
Thanks.

proof I'm not paying attention

I read this line in someone else's blog, "The Olympics may be over folks, but..." and I thought, "Oh. Is it? That was fast."

(eyes rolling)
Ugh.

stress brained

Last couple of days I've been getting these weird headaches. It feels like somehow someone has tightened the bones inside my face and skull, like it's all too tight and it freakin HURTS. Certain ways I turn my head hurt worse, too. But it all comes up when I'm stressed out, otherwise nothing.
I swear to God, I can't wait to get my crazy ass to a shrink and fix the messed up innards of my head. The answers are in there. I just can't seem to find them, and lack a map.

There are times I am glad when people have way too much time on their hands. This is one of them.

ouch.

one kitty who will never go near water again

A 16-year-old cat named "Cat" was trapped in the office of Harrin's Sand & Gravel. Pictured here, Cat is in the window, with water levels rising. Photo by Keith Leonard.



Jeff Rice, in the front of the boat, and David Ingram rescue Cat who was handed over to Robin Rice. Photo by Keith Leonard




Good job guys.

karma

Well, at least the auto shop that overcharged me for the work done on my truck went under. Under water.


But unfortunate for all those peoples cars who had them there to get fixed. I pray they all have AWESOME insurance, that will totally buy them new cars. That would be righteous.

Frances whooped Asheville's ass....

In a big way.

Here's the U-Haul place I got my U-Haul from to move to the beach...



I mean, DUDE.



And on a note of humor (sorry Asheville, you know I love you, but these are AMUSING)

The award for Stating The Obvious goes to:



And the award for I-Can't-Even-Come-Up-With-A-Joke-For-This-It's-So-Bad:



~~~~~~~
That last one....(gasping for breath)...I mean, I just....(laughing hysterically)...it's so....SO...pointless. Other than to make me laugh.
Thanks, guys.


(all pics compliments of The Asheville Citizen Times)

first day of school

So my sons first day at a new school was today. Is currently, to be exact.
I am a wreck.
I mean, I'm kinda ok right now, because I am using the good old internet and cleaning like a crazed bitch to keep me occupied.
But last night I cried myself to sleep.
Yah. I'm 30 years old and crying myself to sleep because I'm worried about my 7 year old going to a new school.
He didn't cry.
(eyes rolling)
What kind of shit is that, I wonder? I laid there crying on Mr. Wonderfuls shoulder for awhile. Every time I thought I had pulled it back together I'd start in again.
He told me I was projecting.
WELL YAH.
(laughs)
All I could think about was being bullied and missing my stop, missing my bus, getting lost, blah blah blah- all the anxieties I felt in elementary school. All the anxieties I felt like he should be feeling, but of course he doesn't. He's not a freak who is insane, like his mommy. (insert bland pokerface expression from moi)
So there I am bawling my eyes out while my son sleeps peacefully (he did have nightmares later on though....)
I told Mr. Wonderful that if (my son) could handle it, I should be able to, too.
Then I commented on how fucked up it is that I am basing my emotional responses on the reactions of a seven year old. How lame (read: insane) is that?
I finally stated: "God I need a shrink."

If you happen to be a cool shrink here in Virginia Beach and want to take in a crazy brilliant gal who only has slight delusions of grandeur, for free, cause she's broke right now, you let me know, ok?
The occasional prescription for Xanax would be great, too.
I drank an entire cup and a half of tea and my heart is racing. I feel like my heart is beating in my throat.
It's TEA, people. Not coffee. Not crack. What the hell? I used to be able to drink a POT of coffee.
I miss caffeine. Not that I need it (crazy yakkety bitch).
~sigh~

I can't wait till he comes home and I can hear how his day was.
I should be enjoying the time alone....
~sigh~

a qoute from David Sedaris

"It wouldn't matter where I grew up. If you hate that time in your life, it's not what you had in mind. You want to live on Park Avenue and have a house full of servants and you live in Raleigh, North Carolina or Phoenix, Arizona or... it doesn't matter. It's just not what you had in mind. Now I welcome all that stuff. Like, I wish my school had corporal punishment. I could write a story about being beaten by a key chain. Now I just wish that all those people had been worse. I would have had more to write about."

I think I need to write a book then. I have quite a few friends who suggest that I do. I have a lot of great stories (read: shocking, disturbing, hilarious) to tell, and I refrain from writing them here because I am tossing the idea of a book around.
We'll see. Hmmm.

"You must show no mercy
nor have any belief whatsoever in
how others judge you
for your greatness will silence them all."
-Warrior Wisdom

no....

I take the last blog back. It might be, instead, Let's Get It On by Marvin Gaye.

sometimes....

only the song "Big Balls" by AC/DC will do.

Interesting

It's always fun to google people that you don't like from your past and find out they are still just as retarded as you thought they were.

"The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist."
Seriously.

VERY IMPORTANT NEWS ITEM!!!!

"They are accessible, humorous and occasionally blow each other up," said Roland Jackson, of the British Association for the Advancement of Science (BA).

Holy @#*%!, Frances takes its toll

and various other church-steeple-ripped-off-and-stabbed-through-the-roof puns.

Yeesh.

I just read the blog of a sixteen year old girl describing giving a guy a blow job for the first time.
No you sick bastards, no link.
She's a KID for crying out loud. Something about it was just disturbing.
I remember thinking how grown up I felt at that age. Looking back, I shudder.
I don't know, it just really disturbed me.

Most interesting phrase so far, that has pulled up my blog through search engines:

"Pictures Of Interbred People"

Whooooaaa-oa-oa-oa

so many puns, I wouldn't even know where to begin...

late night rambling

After moving, I still have a few (thousand or so) boxes to go through. So today Mr. Wonderful and I decide to caffeinate and get the shit done.
First for me is the music collection. I have a box of cassette tapes. Yep, no typo there, I still have all my cassettes. Why? I'm cheap. Do you honestly believe I would buy all that music on CD? Seriously. You're funny. Anyway, I never actually LISTEN to them, that's the shit part about it. So I go through and toss tons of stuff based on the "I may listen to it" versus "Really not a chance in hell" method of sorting. All Led Zepplin stays, without a doubt. Anyone who dislikes Led Zepplin I really have to wonder about. At any rate, I came across all kinds of amusing things: The Mighty Lemondrops, Erasure, The Swans, The Clash, Juice Newton, Yellowman, an awful lot of an X's band (set those aside, yech), a tape me and my brother made when we were REALLY young (he's impersonating Howard Cossell for God's sake), on and on...
I found a tape I made some stoned night. God I smoked a lot of pot back then. I really didn't know just how much until today. So here's this tape, an hour long, of a party I'm at. I did this a lot, by the way. Just randomly taped people for the fun of it. Mostly without them knowing- I had a small tape recorder I carried around. The occasions tripping were great to tape. The hysterical laughter/confusion. Ah, those were good times. Anyway, this tape goes on and on, and I can hear myself talking to the guy nearby (who sounds gay) and all these people are in the background but clearly audible. The odd thing is I have NO IDEA who these people are. None of them sound even vaguely familiar. One girl is even calling peoples names out when it's time to go eat, and I still am clueless. SO I sat there on the bedroom floor, head clocked to one side, asking the walls, "Who ARE these people???" But the walls had nothing to say. Nothing important anyway.
Dude.
I can hear me talking. I have NO memory of this whatsoever, nor do I even have any clue who these people WERE.
I wonder how much of my life is forgotten by me, you know?
But then I also think back to the bland conversations we were having. I mean, pleasant, yes, but in no way memorable. Who cares? Don't I have more important things to take up brain space? Obviously these people weren't terribly (even vaguely) important in the course of my life.

~~~~~~

Then I went through boxes of old letters, poetry, scraps of stuff... after a while, I was just emotionally exhausted. I finally had to stop for the night. I mean, I really want to chuck more shit. Enlighten myself, as it were.

~~~~~~

By the way, Virginia Beach has the craziest radio station. It's called BOB FM. Don't know what the hell is up with this station, they play almost EVERYTHING. Right now it's Feel Like Making Love by Badfinger. I feel like the biggest Velveeta cheesing out to it, but who can possibly resist? I mean, it's inhumane to resist, right?

~~~~~~

On another note, I think I've figured out somewhere I can work without feeling total anxiety about it all- a bookstore. What could be horrible about that? I'm only looking for part time... and being a bookworm (read: total fucking geek) since early early childhood, I figure I'm a shoe-in. Besides, I use terms like "shoe-in". And "I'm". And the smell of books is nearly sexual. Nearly. And most people in there should be able to carry on a somewhat tolerable conversation since one assumes they can read....I'm fantasizing I can be in there, shelving books, lost in my thoughts (my preferable place to be), and only be interrupted by intelligent people asking me intelligent thoughtful questions. Of course, I will push up my sexy geek glasses (that I don't posses), and pull that pencil out from behind my ear, and thoughtfully chew on it for a second, then answer their questions in some mind blowing way, and Mr. Wonderful will come in late at night (when I really would already be home) and I'd be up on a ladder, and he'll look up my little schoolgirl skirt and give me that come hither look and we'll shove books off of tables do it right there....
what?
wait, did I just say that?
Who?
What are you talking about? I was telling you about this new job. Nobody's talking about sex. God, you are such a freak. I swear. Pay attention. Try not to let your mind wander this time, ok?
LIKE I WAS SAYING......
I think a bookstore would be cool. So I'm going to apply this week. I was really nervous about getting a new job but I knew when the right one came to mind (FOCUS!) I would know. So there it is.

~~~~~~~
Speaking of Mr. Wonderful, he's looking mighty fine sitting over there surfing on his laptop. Yah, that's right. I'm 10 feet away on my computer, he's over there on his....
GEEK LOVE.
Is there any purer kind?
Methinks not.